The six-hour wait clawed at my insides like a slow, deliberate punishment. I'd been through anxious days before, gut-wrenching sleepless nights, but this... this was its own brand of agony. The clock on my wall seemed to mock me with each passing second. Its hands dragged like they were wading through molasses. I couldn't sit still. My fingers tapped nervously against the table. My knees bounced. My stomach had twisted itself into a sailor's knot.
He was here. Somewhere out there, on the road, heading toward me. After three years, countless sleepless nights, and too many what-ifs to count, Delmar had found me. The thought was surreal, so fragile that I feared even breathing too hard would shatter it.
How was he coping, really, being away from the sea that had once been his lifeblood? Was he okay? Was he in pain?
I couldn't take it anymore. I left my apartment, locking the door behind me with fumbling fingers, and walked down the steps two at a time. The cold air slapped my face, but it didn't ground me. Nothing could. I stood on the sidewalk outside my building, pacing like an addict waiting for a fix. Every few seconds, I checked the time, my phone, then the street again.
It shouldn't take more than six hours. I had calculated the route a dozen times, Houston to Cary, nonstop. Even with traffic, he should've been here by now. My chest was pounding. My thoughts spiraled. Maybe something had gone wrong. Maybe they got lost, or worse. The panic crawled up my throat like bile.
I was about to dial Mom, fully aware she'd probably be more dramatic than helpful, when I saw it, a yellow taxi rolling to a slow, careful stop across the street.
My heart stuttered.
I stepped closer to the curb, holding my breath. The first door creaked open and a tall woman stepped out, wide-eyed and trembling. She wore a sundress far too light for this chilly evening, and her every movement screamed of discomfort and unfamiliarity. Her pale arms wrapped around herself like a barrier.
Then the second door opened.
At first, I didn't recognize him. The man who stepped out looked more like a human version of the wild creature I'd once known His hair was shorter now, framing a face I could've painted from memory but suddenly seemed like a stranger's. He wore a dark green cardigan, the exact shade of his eyes. His skin still held that ethereal glow, faintly pale, almost luminous under the streetlights.
And then...he looked up.
His eyes met mine with an intensity that made me shiver. Like he knew exactly where I was standing. Like he'd always known I'd be here, waiting for him.
In that moment, the world went quiet. Cars still moved, the wind still blew, but inside me there was only one sound, the rush of blood in my ears and the echo of a name I hadn't dared to whisper in years.
Delmar.
Then suddenly, without thinking, without breathing, I was running across the street without caring about the vehicles.
"Kash."
The way he said my name, it wasn't just a word. It was a sound carved from longing, from raw desperation, from a kind of hunger that could burn holes in the sky. It made something inside me clench. The syllable struck deep, vibrating through my chest like a secret echo that had never really left me.
"Delmar," I whispered, the name escaping my mouth on instinct. A memory. A prayer. A curse. Maybe all three.
We stood like that, still, silent, suspended in some strange pocket of time, until the cab driver cleared his throat and shattered the spell.
"My money?" he asked, impatient, jolting us both back to Earth.
Delmar turned toward him, guilt heavy in his brow, his hand twitching toward the pocket of his brand new cardigan. I rushed forward.
"It's okay. I've got it," I said, pulling out my phone with shaking fingers. I was already Venmo-ing the driver when I glanced toward Delmar again.
"Can you get their luggage?" I added as I hit send.
Delmar held up a single faded canvas bag. "We don't have luggage. This is it," he said.
I blinked. It wasn't just what he said, it was how he said it. A full sentence. No stutters. No gasps for air. His voice didn't just speak; it resonated, deep and oceanic, like a tremor you could feel in your bones more than hear with your ears.
"You spoke..." I murmured, disbelief painting my words with wonder.
"Yes," he said simply. "I did."
And God, something about that steady calm in his tone made the world tilt sideways.
"Come with me," I said quickly, eyes darting away before I drowned in his gaze. We crossed the quiet street together, the city's nighttime hush broken only by the sound of our footsteps and my pounding pulse.
The elevator ride up to my apartment was stiff with tension. The woman clung to Delmar's sleeve like it was her lifeline, her wide, sea-glass eyes darting nervously around the confined space. She looked ready to bolt at the slightest sound.
"Is she... like you?" I asked softly, unable to help myself. "A mer creature?"
Delmar turned to me, voice low and steady. "Yes. She is K'liira. The female your father rescued."
I snapped my gaze to her. So this was her. The creature Vicky had painted as monstrous. Wild. Dangerous.
But standing here, in a too-thin sundress, trembling and terrified, she looked like a frightened girl, not a predator. Her beauty was strange, otherworldly, but it was her vulnerability that hit me hardest.
Vicky had lied. About all of it. Or at least, that's what my gut was screaming.
"Will she be okay outside of the ocean?" I asked, concern coating my words.
Delmar didn't hesitate. "Do you have a bath?"
His voice, calm and matter-of-fact, contrasted the rising panic in my chest. The way K'liira's eyes darted to mine, filled with fear and confusion, made me want to shield her.
"Yeah. Yeah, I do," I replied quickly, fumbling for my keys.
I opened the apartment door and led them inside. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, I rushed them to the bathroom. My fingers twisted the knobs, filling the tub with water as fast as the rusty pipes would allow.
"Here," I said, motioning them in, panicking a little about the woman's well being.
"Calm down, Kash," Delmar said quietly behind me, his presence as steady and encompassing as the sea he came from. There was a new seriousness to his voice, something calmer, firmer, laced with the authority of a man who had crossed entire worlds to stand here.
I turned slightly, just enough to glimpse him over my shoulder. His gaze was unreadable but intent, as if he were trying to decode me the same way I was trying to do to him.
"You look different," he observed, the faintest curl of a smile teasing the corner of his lips.
As if that mattered.
Yeah, I'd been working out. Lifting weights. Drinking protein shakes I hated. I'd been trying to reclaim something, my body, maybe, or my identity. Trying to get someone to look at me same way he had looked at me all those years ago.
So I shrugged. A single lift of the shoulder, casual, indifferent. Meaningless.
And then the clicks came, soft, musical, delicate as rain on glass, unlike Delmar's clicks which sounded more like hailstorm. K'liira peeked out from behind him, her wide eyes glowing with unspoken emotion.
"She's asking if she can get in the water," Delmar translated.
I didn't have to ask what she meant. The desperation was written all over her. She was already swaying on her feet, hands twitching toward the bathtub like it was a sanctuary.
"Of course," I said, stepping aside.
"Get out of the clothes first," Delmar said gently, his hand resting on her arm. She fumbled to tear them off in a frenzy.
"Slow down," he added, his voice going firm like a reprimanding father. His fingers moved with grace and care as he helped peel the fabric away, layer by layer, like unwrapping something sacred.
I turned away, heat crawling up my neck. I wasn't attracted to women, but that didn't mean I was used to being around them when they were naked. Especially not when Delmar was the one helping her. His said reassuring words to her, humans words, not mer, so intimate, so low only she could hear.
And still, still, I felt the bitterness rise in me like bile. I hated the way he looked after her. Hated the way it made me feel.
"I'll wait outside," I said quickly, clearing my throat. I prayed he didn't catch the jealousy lacing my words. I didn't know what right I had to feel it.
He didn't stop me. Didn't even look surprised.
A few moments later, he emerged from the bathroom, his body half-shadowed as he leaned against the hallway wall. He watched me quietly, eyes sweeping over me in a slow, deliberate way that made my chest tighten. His gaze wasn't boyish like before, it was measured. Knowing. Confident in a way that made me feel exposed.
This wasn't the same Delmar I had left behind in Island City. This man had changed. This man had power in his stillness, strength in his silence. There was something smug in the set of his jaw, something dangerous in the way he filled the room without even trying.
"She wants to sleep in the water tonight. Is that fine?"
His voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"Ah... yes. Whatever makes her comfortable," I managed, but my tongue was thick, and there were too many words pressing against the back of my throat. So much I wanted to ask. So much I was too afraid to hear.
Delmar pushed off the wall, the movement slow and fluid. He stepped closer, not enough to touch but enough to make the space between us crackle.
"I guess... we need to talk," he said, his eyes holding mine.
My breath caught.
"I guess we do."