Chapter 9
ISLA
Finn saved me.
That fact plays on a loop in my mind as I sit at the outdated desk in my childhood bedroom.
“I’m making you tea.” My mother’s voice sounds through my doorway.
“Thank you, Mama.”
Since she grew up in England, tea is her reaction to most problems. Not a solution. Merely a response.
Not that she knows what the problem is. I simply walked into the house and announced I’d be in my room, reevaluating my life.
Both of my parents opened their mouths, no doubt ready to interrogate me about what, exactly, I meant by reevaluate.
However, I’d exited the kitchen and jogged upstairs before they could.
I’d have rather not made the announcement, but living with my parents requires some basic communication.
I need my own house.
But that’s not the most important factor in my life to address at the moment.
Finn saved me.
With Owen’s assistance, but it was Finn who dived into the dark water and pulled me out. Finn who tried to stop my wound from bleeding. Finn who cut himself open for the spell to heal me.
By all rights, he is my fated mate.
After the decision I made this morning to stop pursuing Owen, one might say this is a positive discovery. Instead, my mind twists, as if caught up in a whirlpool, as I struggle to understand the sudden shift.
Why did he tell me now? Does he know what saving a selkie means in our lore?
Finn’s words come back to me.
“We never spoke about it again after that night.”
Owen would have had no reason to tell his friend about our mating myths if the two agreed to keep Finn’s involvement secret.
A small sting burns in my chest, and I realize I’m angry. Angry with Owen.
Since I was sixteen years old, the morning after that accident, Owen MacNamara has been in my future. The gods’ will was clear. A traditional selkie mating was inevitable. Every long-term plan I made, Owen’s shadow loomed as a required component.
But that’s all he was. A shadow I let follow me around. Not concrete. Not something I longed for.
Not like Finn.
Now, when I switch out the selkie for the human, every part of my brain lights up, wanting to make plans with Finn as a necessary part of the structure. Something I should have been doing from the start.
Finn saved me.
As I imagine what the man saw, what he went through, I am in awe. That boy found an injured creature—something I have to admit must have looked nightmarish to a human. But he stayed with me. Held on to my life with his firm, unwavering grip. Then, he offered the witch whatever she demanded.
And after, more than a decade later, Finn still keeps our secret.
“Here’s your tea.” My mother appears before me, and I wonder if she moved quietly into my room or if I was so lost in my head that I just didn’t hear her.
She pushes the hot mug into my hand. “Come tell us what changes you want to make. We’ll discuss them.” Then, she walks out of my room, leaving the door open, expecting me to follow.
My parents are very different than Finn’s father, but I think we react to them in a similar way.
When Ann and Patrick Brown were younger, they lived in England, near the coast, swimming in the ocean on the night of the dark moon.
One unfortunate time, my mother got caught in a fishing net.
The experience almost killed her and left the pair with a fear of the ocean they’d once loved.
So, pregnant with me and worried over the safety of their child, they moved here, to a lake in the United States mythics had started to whisper was safe for our kind.
But even in this new home, where they’ve lived for decades, their anxiety remains. And I have always done my best to appease them.
When Mr. Hammond shoved his son’s hands away from the wheel and demanded to drive, I can easily see how Finn gave in. Just as I allowed my parents to grab hold of parts of my life I’d rather keep control of. Like the idea of who I could love.
Their fear made the idea of mating with a human seem a mountain to climb.
Maybe the difficulty of that trek is real. But if so, Finn is worth reaching the pinnacle.
Ignoring the open door, I step into my closet, choosing my favorite dress.
The one that cups my boobs almost as well as Finn’s hands did last night.
Only after making sure I’m as physically pleasing as I can get, I follow my mother down the stairs, finding her and my father on the back porch, each drinking their own tea.
“I need you both to get in the car and come with me,” I announce, not willing to allow them an opportunity for an argument.
They stare at me. Then at each other. Then move to rise from their chairs.
One thing is certain. The Browns are unwaveringly honest about what we need.
On our way out, I grab my keys and a box from underneath the coffee table, gathering the necessary supplies required for my climb.