Page 13 of Waves

“I’ve called you like three times,” she yelled.

“Sorry.”

“Are you alive?”

“Yep,” I confirmed with another yawn. I sat up in the bed and stretched with a groan.

“Good, because I’m going to kill you for making me worry. Call me later.”

“Yep, bye,” I said before clicking the red button and ending the call.

I looked at the clock on my screen and saw why she was so worried, but was more amazed that Ishmael’s bladder and stomach held out this long. My furry alarm clock always pawed at me bright and early. After I pulled my phone off the charger, I noticed Ishmael not in the bed by my feet and snoozing.

I looked left and right, my sleepy brain unable to compute where my dog went. There weren’t many places for a large dog to hide in here. I scanned the room once again, this time stopping at the slightly ajar bedroom door. My stomach twisted, and I scrambled from my bed. Holy crap, Mary would have a field day when she gave me the I-told-you-so lecture.

A smart man would have grabbed the first available weapon, or at least alerted someone else of the situation before charging from the room. I was not a smart man. I rushed down the hall with only my phone in my hand, skidding in my socks across the cheap linoleum when I tried to stop.

Ishmael, king of traitors and a disgrace to his species, snored on the couch with Kai comfortably trapped beneath him. A small laugh escaped now that I could see Ishmael safe and sound, even if I almost face-planted onto the kitchen floor. Kai asleep on my couch also assured me, but not enough to chase away the unease of my door being compromised while I slept the entire time.

I walked back down the hall, opening then locking the bathroom door with a shivering hand. Why I bothered, who knew, since that clearly was not enough of a barrier to stop Kai. I still couldn’t believe he did that—not only how, but also why. What motivation did he have? Not only that, but he always came across as so genuine. He didn’t seem like the type to do something like this, no matter the reason. Clearly, I was wrong. My gut instinct must be defective because even though I had been so wrong before, I wanted to be right about someone this time.

My mind focused less on the facts of the situation, choosing to obsess over what could have been. While waiting for the water to get hot, I tried to breathe and remind myself nothing bad happened. No one harmed. Nothing stolen. Kai didn’t even bother to leave, so that must mean something.

Still not enough to pull me out of my head while I undressed, then pulled back the shower curtain with a shaking hand. I didn’t care if I got hit with icy water. This place was maybe one or two steps up from a dump, meaning everything needed updating, including the plumbing. And it was cheap, which I needed while recouping my losses. Like most of what I had left, it was not exactly attractive but still functional.

I told myself I committed to this place in particular because it was the cheapest listing I found. In reality, I could have afforded to pay more for something even marginally better. While I was near the marina and Mary’s, I could have found something even closer. And yet, I chose this place. Why? Couldn’t tell you. Only that the first time I drove here and passed the private beach at the other end of the road, I could see myself making this journey every day. Something about this run-down one-bedroom home from the fifties felt right after getting away from so much that didn’t.

I had a similar feeling when I first met Kai. One that said even though this might not be the best decision or the smartest, it felt right. Now, I found myself right back where I started. It had been a while since I didn’t feel safe in my home.

* * *

KAI

I could not even express how much I valued a good nap. Only the smell of something delicious wafting from a nearby room could pull me from such a deep slumber. I scrubbed the sleep from my eyes with the heel of my hand and gave Ishmael a pat to wake him. He let out a low and sleepy groan, obviously comfy and not wanting to move. I gently nudged him once more, and when he finally twitched his eyes open, he yawned and sneezed right in my face before hopping down.

“Thanks,” I muttered before sitting up. How I adored that furry prankster.

“Morning,” Ezra said from the kitchen. “Food is on the table.”

I stretched before I stood, then walked a few feet to the small dining area in the kitchen and took the seat right across from Ezra. He appeared preoccupied while he poured himself a glass of gunk with sediment on the bottom. His beverage honestly looked as if the liquid went rancid. I felt very thankful he gave me water again.

In addition to his odd, curdled beverage, his food looked like nothing I could readily identify. While scrambled eggs and orange wedges were on both our plates, Ezra had smeared his toast with a slimy green substance. Before he even tasted his food, he topped his eggs and toast with a red condiment that smelled as if ingesting it would undoubtedly hurt. I could never keep track of the food crazes among the humans. One minute everything they ate was jellied and made in a mold, the next I found myself witnessing Ezra voluntarily eat what I could only guess to be algae on bread.

“Sleep well?”

With the silence broken, I stopped ogling his food and picked up my fork. “Yes, thank you. How about yourself?”

Ezra nodded and chewed. “I slept so soundly, I didn’t even hear my door being opened.” He looked right at me once he finished his sentence and held his gaze, clearly waiting for an explanation.

“Ishmael’s whining woke me. He had to... you know,” I mumbled while motioning at the door to the backyard beside us, “and I felt bad for him. Sorry.”

“How did you get in my room?” His question not quite aghast or even enraged, but direct.

I stared down at my plate and aimlessly shoved the food around with a fork. “I picked the lock.” Realizing how much worse that sounded when said aloud, I winced and released a sudden urge to defend my actions. “But I only let Ishmael out and fed him, then went back to sleep.”

I chanced a look back at his face, and Ezra chewed his breakfast with a furrowed brow. His expression was one I saw before and since then came to realize was the sign of him internally debating his next response.

“Thanks for feeding him,” Ezra said, his voice quiet and somewhat solemn.

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