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Aria shook her head. How could she say no to that?
They waded out past the waves together. She started shivering when the water reached her shins. Her teeth chattered when it reached her thighs. By the time it rose up over her waist, she decided this was the best idea he’d ever had.
Every wave that crashed past them was exhilarating, sending bolts of adrenaline through her. Her mind cleared and her senses opened to the salt water she tasted. To the sound of Perry’s laugh mixing with hers, and his grip tightening when the water pushed them back. She hadn’t even seen it yet, but the magic cove was already perfect.
“We have to go under the next wave,” Perry said, letting go of her hand. “Dive and then swim out as far as you can before you come up. Ready?”
She didn’t have a chance to answer. The wave came, towering and dark and capped in white. She dove and kicked, pushing until her lungs burned for oxygen.
When she came up, Perry was smiling. “All good?” he said.
She nodded, her teeth already chattering. “Race you,” she said.
They swam past the breakers toward smoother water. Cutting through the waves pushed her beyond thought, turning her into pure action. It took strength and yet it demanded surrender as well. It was both, folded into one. Aria only caught glimpses of Perry when she came up for air, but she knew he was right there.
When they finally waded out onto the beach, she was in desperate need of warmth, but she felt better than she had in weeks. The cold had numbed her arm, allowing her to move freely without guarding herself against pain.
Perry pulled her to his side. “What did you think?” he asked, smiling.
“I think you should look more tired. ” He’d moved through the water with the same power and effortlessness with which he did everything.
“Not with you to look forward to. Let’s get a fire going. ”
Shivering, Aria hurried to gather driftwood. Nearby, Perry hoisted a large piece over his shoulder. He seemed unbothered by the bruises that still covered his arms and legs. Shaking a strand of seaweed from a branch, she remembered a story Roar had told her.
“Did you really sneak into the compound once wearing only seaweed?” she asked.
“Had to. ” He dropped the wood onto a growing pile. “Liv swiped my clothes. It was either seaweed or nothing, and I wasn’t keen on the idea of strutting into the compound completely bare. ” He smiled. “For days afterward I woke up to seaweed hanging on my front door. ”
Aria laughed. “The Tides wanted an encore?”
Perry knelt and began stacking the wood. “Never found out. . . . It was probably Liv again. She was like that. She could never let something go. ”
Aria couldn’t see his face, but she knew from the tone in his voice that he wasn’t smiling anymore. While it hurt to see him suffer, it felt better than seeing him retreat behind walls. Liv was gone, but he was letting her back into his life in a new way.
“I wish I’d known her better, Perry,” she said, adding her wood to the pile.
“If you spent an hour with her, then you knew Liv. My sister was . . . she was . . . ”
He trailed off, so she finished for him. “Like you. ”
“I was going to say willful and hardheaded. ” He smiled. “So, yeah . . . like me. ” He took a piece of flint and a dagger from the sheath at his belt. “How’s your arm?”
“Surprisingly good,” she said, sitting on the sand.
“I knew you’d be fine. What’ll really be surprising is if I can get this lit. ” He turned his back to the wind, bending over his hands. He had sparks flinging into the tinder within seconds. She watched him blow the flames to life, consumed by him. He was as wild as the fire. As vital as the ocean. His own element.
He peered up as the fire took and smiled. “Impressed?”
She wanted to say something quick-witted, but she said the simple truth. “Yes. ”
“Me too,” he said, putting the blade away.
They sat, growing quiet as they let the fire warm them. Since they’d reached the magic cove, they hadn’t spoken about Hovers, or about Sable or the Still Blue. It was almost like being free. She realized the last time she’d been this relaxed, this happy, had also been with him.
Perry shifted beside her, sitting forward and draping his arms over his knees. The bruises on his forearms were fading, and his hair was drying in spirals.
She’d only meant to glance at him, but the lines that made him—the muscles along his arms and shoulders, the angle of his jaw and the crook in his nose—were lines that mesmerized her.
