Page 31 of Siren Problems
And that’s when I see it—reallysee it.
Not the power.
Not the curse.
But thefearin him.
The self-hate.
The impossible loneliness of someone who’s been swallowing his own name for too long.
I step forward, slower now. Softer.
“I’m not asking you to unleash whatever magic horror story lives in your throat,” I say gently. “But I am asking you to stop pretending like caring about someone is the same thing as cursing them.”
He doesn’t answer.
But he doesn’t leave.
And for now... that’s enough.
The wind eases, but he doesn’t.
He’s still standing there like he’s bracing for a wave that hasn’t hit yet, shoulders rigid, hands clenched. His breathing’s shallow, barely audible over the hush of the storm. He gave me a sliver of truth—and I can see it already cost him more than I understood.
Most people lie to protect their pride.
Calder lies to protect hispain.
And gods, that’s worse.
I should be furious. He’s been dancing around this for weeks, throwing out half-truths like breadcrumbs and retreating every time I got too close.
But instead, I’m standing here, watching the man who saved my life twice—three times, maybe more—look like the idea of mecaringis what’s going to undo him.
And I realize I don’t want to unravel him.
I want toknowhim.
Even the jagged parts.
Especially the jagged parts.
I step closer again, close enough that the rain between us has nowhere to fall.
“You’re still standing here,” I say quietly.
“So are you.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Calder.”
“That’s the problem,” he whispers.
But his voice cracks on it.
And that crack?
It splits something in me too.
