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She looks back up at me with sad eyes. “They’re most likely searching for us as we speak.” She holds the stone up. “I’m going to chip the rock with this—the bar part. Better than doing nothing.”
“Yeah, for sure.”
She takes a long step back. “Waiting to see how you’re swinging, so I can stay out of the line of fire,” she says softly.
“Sure thing.” I cringe at how eager I sound. Something about her voice…I don’t know. She’s not the type that seems to need protecting, but I guess I want to, I realize as I swing the hammer. Shards of rock go flying, and a moment later, I feel her behind me.
“Back to back,” she says. “I’ll work on the other side of the rim.”
I inhale slowly, telling myself it’s okay for her to be behind me; I’m not asleep—or helpless. “Sounds good, Fin.”
Silence shifts between us. When I look back at her, I see tears in her eyes.
Eleven
Finley
“Not a word about it.” I wipe my eyes, glaring at him through my fingers.
He turns more fully toward me, giving me a searching look.
“I don’t like being stuck in caves. And I well and truly hate to be called Fin, so never again, please. I’m not a crier, only cry when very tired or in a fury.”
He lifts his brows, his handsome face gentle and kind despite those too-shrewd eyes that always see too much. “The kind of fury one might feel if one was stuck inside a cave and being called…you know?” He smiles.
“That kind exactly.” I breathe deeply, wiping my eyes once more before I slam my rock into the ceiling.
“Fin doesn’t feel right anyway,” he says as he turns back around. “Think I’m gonna stick to Siren.”
“That’s absurd.”
“How come?” he asks, striking the ceiling with a sharp rap.
“Well for one, I’m not a siren. You do realize it’s a real thing, at least in Greek mythology?”
“A woman-bird. A temptress. Their songs lured sailors into shipwrecks.”
“You’re not a sailor, not except your shameful, depraved language. And neither is your ship wrecked.”
He gives me a funny look over his shoulder. “Finny.”
“What?”
“It’s Finny or Siren.”
“What, pray tell, is wrong with my name?”
His face splits into a grin. “Did you just say pray tell?”
“I did.” I straighten my spine. “And you liked it. Now, get back to work.”
He chuckles as he turns around, tapping the ceiling with the hammer. “Hear that?” He taps again.
“The tapping?”
He reaches his arm out, tapping in another spot. Then he taps the first again.
“That first one sounds a higher pitch.”
