Page 43 of The Sea Witch's Son

“You don’t have to push me out.” His words are barely above a whisper, “I loved her too, you know.”

“It’s not the same.”

The words are sharp and meant to hurt, and they do just that. Erik blows out a strained breath and gets out of the car.

I don’t move for a long time. I just stare at the cracks in the windshield, the splintered glass that somehow manages to hold itself together.

When I finally make it inside the house, my feet guide me to the living room. I don’t stop walking until my knees hit the bench sitting beneath the piano. I reach out and stroke the board, running my finger over the black and white keys.

“I was so mad at you for leaving me.” I whisper the confession, wishing I didn’t feel the lump in my throat, “But now... Now I just miss you.”

A silent tear slips down my cheek and hits the keys.

I sit down on the bench and watch another tear join the first. The unsung notes stare back at me, haunting my conscience and doing nothing to break the dam that’s been built in my chest.

The figure moves through the shadows of the living room. I feel him before I see him, the familiar presence making himself comfortable on the bench beside me.

“It seems like I never know the right thing to say.” Erik sighs heavily, “That’s one thing that hasn’t changed over the years.”

“It’s good to have consistency.”

He’s quiet for a moment, “What do you think she would say? If she could see us right now?”

When I don’t say anything, Erik nudges me.

“It would be something ridiculously optimistic like with every closed door comes a new opportunity. The world is your oyster, so let’s go out for dinner.”

My lips pinch together, “Arielle loved any excuse to go out for seafood.”

“I don’t know why. She would cry every time she saw a crab sitting stuffed on a plate.”

A reluctant laugh escapes me.

We fall into companionable silence, both of us lost in memories about the bleeding heart lost at sea. I run my hand over the keys again, remembering the bruised fingers that would shake and tremble but always knew the right notes to play.

My mother wasn’t a strong woman. She was kind and gentle and very beautiful, but she was not strong. She took the world at face value, never pushing back and questioning whether she deserved better.

Whether I deserved better.

“I need to know who it is.” Erik speaks quietly, trudging carefully over the newfound peace between us, “The person breaking in at night.”

I close my eyes, picturing that arrogant smile. The crashing wave covering his forearm. The tip of his erection digging into my ass.

Goosebumps spread along my flesh as those hands close around my throat and squeeze.

“Marlin Seaborn.”

Erik hisses out a breath.

I open my eyes, trying to forget the way he danced me around the ballroom tonight. The way he whispered threats and promises of punishment in my ear as though they were sweet nothings.

I’m trying to forget the way my body ached for his touch.

The way it’s still aching.

“I’ll get the locks changed tomorrow.”

“That won’t make a difference.”

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