Page 11 of Cerban
I tasted it on my tongue. It felt perfect.
"Are you warm enough?" Tyrone asked, more gently this time.
"I could do with another blanket, if you have one."
He tsked. "I have plenty of blankets. I even have an electric blanket stashed away somewhere. Don't think I've ever actually used it, but there is a first time for everything."
While Tyrone spread a bright orange blanket over me, Paul rolled his shoulder as if preparing for a fight.
“You’ve done enough,” the resort manager said again, his voice like steel. “You’re not staying here. Not in this room. Not with her.”
Cerban’s gills flared as if he was drawing in seawater, his entire frame vibrating with contained fury. “She lives because of me. You would have let her drown!”
“I didn't even know she was out for a dive! And that’s not the point!” Paul snapped, stepping closer, jaw set. “There are rules for a reason. You broke them, and you’ll answer for it. Right now, the priority is her recovery, not your pride. Once she is better, we will discuss what happened in detail.”
I wanted to tell them both to shut up. My head throbbed with every raised word, and all I wanted was quiet, warmth, and a large sip of water to get the taste of salt out of my mouth. But I couldn’t look away from the finman – Cerban. His name still rolled through my mind, strong and dependable as the tide.
He leaned closer, his eyes on me, not Paul. “I will not leave you.” The words weren’t a promise, they were a vow; deep and unyielding.
“Like hell you won’t,” Paul barked. “This isn’t negotiable.” He nodded to Tyrone. “Back me up.”
The nurse hesitated, shifting from foot to foot, then gave a reluctant sigh. “Cerban, she’s stable for now. If you want what’s best for her, you’ll let me monitor her without… distractions. I’ll call you if anything changes.”
The finman’s jaw flexed, sharp teeth flashing as he ground them together. For a heartbeat I thought he’d fight, that he’d toss Paul aside and plant himself like a sentry at my bedside. Then his eyes returned to mine, searching, asking.
I didn’t have the strength for words, but I managed the smallest nod, whispering past cracked lips. “I’ll be all right.”
His shoulders slumped, defeat pressed into every line of his body.
“I will return,” he rumbled. A promise I knew he'd keep.
Only then did he back away, every movement reluctant, until Paul shoved the door open and gestured him out. The finman cast one last look at me over his shoulder, a gaze heavy with meaning, before vanishing into the corridor.
The room felt colder without him, even under two blankets.
"I will have a chat with Pam and Fionn," Paul said, turning to the door. "I will be back soon. Let me know if you need anything. And Maelis... I'm glad you're alright."
When the door clicked shut behind him, I sagged into the pillows, exhausted by the tension that had sizzled between the two men.
Tyrone busied himself at the small sink, filling a cup before carrying it over. “Here,” he said gently, sliding a hand behind my shoulders to help me sit. “Small sips. Your lungs don’t need any more surprises tonight.”
The water was cool and clean, a far cry from the salt and grit I’d coughed up on the beach. It soothed my raw throat, though my voice still rasped when I asked, “He… carried me out?”
Tyrone gave a short, almost nervous laugh. “Carried you, fought the surf with you in his arms, then stormed straight in here demanding I treat you before I could even check his own injuries. I’d say you’ve made quite an impression.”
Heat prickled my cheeks. “I didn’t exactly ask him to.”
“No,” Tyrone agreed, setting the cup aside. “But you’d be dead without him. You know that, right? I’ve seen near-drownings. Most don’t walk away. You will, thanks to him.”
I swallowed hard. “Cerban,” I murmured, tasting the name again.
Tyrone arched a brow. “He told you his name?”
“I overheard you.”
“Ah.” He scratched the back of his neck, glancing toward the door. “He’s… different from the others. Quieter. Keeps to himself most of the time, but when he does speak up, everyone listens. Pam says he’s steady as bedrock. Some of the staff think he’s brooding. Me?” Tyrone shrugged. “I think he’s dangerous – but only if you’re a threat to someone he cares about.”
Dangerous. The word should have made me recoil. Instead, it curled warm in my chest.
