37. Nolan
Iknew something was wrong even before I came down to the office.
I can’t remember the last time my father called to have a meeting with me just because.
Usually, it had to do with swimming or school.
No, this felt different from the start; it left a nasty taste in my mouth, and unable to so much as look at Wren before I left.
She deserved better than me, better than all of us, if I’m being honest.
“Ah, my son!” Father meets me at the door, a smile on his face as he claps a hand to my back as if we were great friends simply catching up.
My stomach rolls, and I worry for a moment that I might very well revisit the oatmeal that Wren had made us this morning for breakfast.
“So, tell me how my star student is doing? Still adjusting well, I assume, and you’re, of course, offering her any help she might need, right?”
His words seem simple enough, questions that any concerned dean or father might ask, but I know better. My father only ever cares about what suits him, and the fact that his gaze is set on Wren is a problem, one I wasn’t aware that I cared about until now.
“She’s doing well, taking extra classes to get caught up. She still aims to graduate with her class. I’ve been studying with her when she allows. She’s very…” I think for a moment, looking for a word to best suit her that isn’t an outright lie. “Reserved.”
I watch his gaze harden and know my answer wasn’t what he wanted, but I knew that would be the case; it had to be in order to keep her safe from him.
I’m not sure what he wants from her, but I know it can’t be good. Even if it is only for me to woo her, she deserves much better than me; even if my father hadn’t been the one to put me up to talking to her, she’s simply too good.
“Reserved isn’t an option!” He snaps, moving to get in my face. I don’t flinch, not anymore. “You will get her to open up to you by any means necessary. Do you understand me?”
“I’ve been making progress. It’s just slow. I don’t want to scare her—”
His hand wraps around my throat as he slams me back into the wall, and I stop talking. He’s not exactly stopping me from speaking; I can still breathe just fine, but why push it? I know his goal is to shut me up, and I’m more than happy to not say another word if he’d allow that.
Despite only having known her for a few weeks, every word feels like I’m stabbing Wren in the back even as I attempt to skate around major details.
“I don’t give a flying fairy fuck if you scare her. You will do what you must. Failure is not an option. She will be yours, or I will bury you so far beneath the waves that you never see sunlight again.”
Now I can’t breathe, and it has nothing to do with his hand.
I’ve spent very little time in the ocean, often coming ashore with my father while my siblings stayed with my mother. She’s never left the ocean, something Father is very proud of.
None of my siblings craves the land the way I do, but even loving my mer-half, I can’t deny that something calls to me on the land. I’ve craved my land legs for years, which is why my father has been able to keep such a tight hold on me.
Unfortunately, with his request, he’s also created another weakness for me because while the thought of the abyssal is terrifying, I can think of few other things that would be just as bad, and never seeing my friends, including Wren, is pretty fucking close.
Father snaps his fingers, and the water from his fountain in the corner rushes to him, eager to please the man who controls the waves.
It circles around us like a bubble, the sound of rushing water drowning out anything we might say, even without its magical properties.
Even still, he leans in close enough that I can smell the sand and fishy scent that he always carries with him.
Mortals love the smell and feel of the beach and the ocean waters, but for me, all it does is remind me of this man, the one who was supposed to love me no matter what, but instead only ever used and abused me.
“She’s a dud, which means she’s more easily influenced by magic, as it is in her bloodline. I don’t care what you have to do, but you make her choose you…” His eyes glow, and the water around us flows faster as his temper rises.
Even with all his protection, he doesn’t dare say the words aloud, and I don’t blame him. If he were caught suggesting what he is… well, losing his job would be the least of his concerns.
Though I’m not sure he would ever actually see any kind of punishment, not when he’s old friends with the king.
I have to bite back the urge to shudder; even the thought of that man puts me on edge. I can’t think of many worse fathers than my own, but I suppose he would be one. Then again, everyone says that’s why he’s so awful; he lost his mate and daughter in a terrible crash.
I couldn’t imagine.
“Do I make myself clear?” he spits the words with so much force that he actually spits on my face, and I dig my nails into my palms to keep myself from wiping it away.
Disgusting.
“Crystal.”
With another snap, the water is gone, and so is my father as he stalks back to his desk, a genuine smile on his lips.
Nothing makes my father happier than knowing he’s going to get what he wants.
“Good, I’ll leave you to it, though I expect an update. Don’t make me come calling for information again.” His jaw sets, and with it, a weight feels as though it settles in my stomach.
It was one thing when I was getting close to Wren. It was easy enough to say it was harmless, and as much for myself as my father… but reporting back to him, actively trying to win her over as more than just a roommate or friend.
I give him a nod and push to stand, unwilling to look at him another moment and risk his wrath because now it won’t just be me who faces it. I’ve never seen my dear old dad give up anything, ever. Which means if he wants Wren, he’s going to get her, even if not through me.
And the thought of all the ways he might do that scares the hell out of me.
The second I’m out of the office, I reach for my phone. I’d never used it so much as I have in the last few weeks, not with Julian’s ability to simply pop into my head and annoy me. He’s been strangely quiet, though, instead relying more on mortal technology, the same way I have.
Are you free to critique me between classes?
I hit send before I can chicken out and mentally roll my eyes at how pathetic I sound. Since when do I have this problem where I worry what someone will think?
It’s not critiquing. It’s just a friendly observation with some feedback that you’re more than welcome to ignore.
The smile that pulls at my lips makes my cheeks ache, and I quickly wipe it away.
Right now, my father thinks I’m only interested in Wren because he wants me to be. If he smelled even a hint of a possibility that I was interested for myself…
I make it down to the pool, lost in thoughts of what he might do to her to get to me, each worse than the last, until I’ve worked myself up to the point that I nearly rip the door from the hinges.
“Whoa, what did the door do to you?” My eyes snap to Wren, where she sits across the room on the bleachers.
A smile on her face, her cheeks pink from the heat in the room and the damn purple that Julian and Titus helped her add, as if she needed a way to be cuter.
And just like that, the fear and anger melt away, and I know I’d rather face the abyssal than sell her out to my father, or anyone for that matter.