14. Daphne Imposter Syndrome
fourteen
Daphne: Imposter Syndrome
The windswept eyes of the Pacific Ocean are forever wild and feral. Its boundless, untouched landscape remains rugged and unsettled, jutting into craggy depths, looming ominously behind a veil of heavy clouds. It is violent. Morally hidden. And never apologizes.
Maine felt… different. It was like stepping out of a rain cloud into something you could touch.
Sure, like Seattle, it was salted, but it carried a certain heat that crouched deep into your lungs and stayed there.
I watched it unfold from the back seat of an Outback, feeling like an imposter.
Knowing it was too bright. Too warm! The color of things that break.
It was as if the world had turned itself inside out and emptied of the one thing that could ever make it real.
“The yellow cabin is yours,” a peppered voice said, pointing at the small house perched at the end of a rocky outpost.
I looked at it, still feeling the numbing effects of Nathem’s present in my bloodstream, glancing at my phone to see if Thay had received my text. It was ten, which meant seven at home.
“Am I the only one here?” I asked the blue-eyed man. He had crumpled wrinkles, and I particularly loved the way his black beanie folded around his ears.
“Yeah. Mostly. My nieces and nephews sneak in sometimes, if you know what I mean.” He winked, and I took a step back. “Nell and I are up the road in the main house. The numbers are on the fridge. If anything gets weird, there’s a panic button by the sink.”
I paused. Wait. What?
“I am sorry? Panic button?”
“Yes. It activates an alert on our end. You hit it, and we’ll send someone out.”
“Like the Bat Signal?”
“The what?” he leaned in, stretching his ear so he could hear me better.
“Bat Signal? You know, like, Batman.” I swallowed. “Big light in the sky? No?”
“No, hon, it is a panic button.”
“Okay,” I buried my amusement in a cough. “Sounds easy enough.”
“Also, if a storm comes, do not freak out. This cabin’s survived hundreds of years of wrath, and I think it might be her favorite.”
The thing about Seattleites, or whatever the fuck they call us, is that we don’t share the stormy reverence of beach dwellers whose entire cadence runs in sync with the tides. Those humans live further south. Nope. Seattle just stepped around the Puget Sound like it does everything else in its way.
“Emerson is one of the best!”
I blinked, wondering who that was. Celeste had not filled me in on the details of this internship, my responsibilities, or what it would actually entail. And my stupid sensory system, flashing Thay in big red letters, hadn’t thought to ask.
“He delivered Mae’s baby last spring. I’d trust him with my life.”
“Trust is the greatest thing one person can give another,” I said with a grin that didn’t quite land.
Aside from Thay, the only soul I trusted was Wolfe, who broke a little bit of me yesterday.
I knew I could never be his in that way, but it did not stop me from feeling like he belonged to me.
But it wasn’t just him. Lyla would belong to all of them, and while it might be fucked up, my entire body screamed, treason.
“Here.” He tossed the key into the air, and I missed, making a face when it bounced into the rocks by my shoe.
“I hope you’re better at catching babies!”
Funny guy. I bent to grab it.
“We left you some food in the fridge, and someone will come by tomorrow to fill you in on the next steps.”
“Thanks, George.” I nodded, waiting until he turned to fetch my luggage from the shadows.
George and Nell, I thought, loving the way their names lingered perfectly on my tongue.
Nothing sounded sweeter than the idea of forever, and for a quick moment I wondered what Thay would look like, worn and comfortable underneath the weight of a black hoodie.
Or how the silver in his hair would fall into his eyes while he sketched in the dark at our thrifted table.
It was almost too much to want. Life. Being old. Knowing everything didn’t break you.
I peeked at my phone, hit video, and pressed it between my lips to unlock the door.
“Daph?” Thay’s voice slithered up my spine, and I realized he was staring at the roof of my mouth. “What the fuck?”
“I’m trying,” I laughed, wriggling the lock and shoving past the swollen wood to drag my luggage inside. I spat the phone onto the table. “To open the damn door.”
The sea shack was small, with a kitchen at one end and a bed at the other. Off to the side, a bathroom and a narrow closet sat quietly in the low light.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, straightening the screen. “I, uh…” My eyes went wide, and all the blood in my body fell to my feet.
Thay rolled his neck, the collar of his white shirt popping into view when he gave me a look.
“Don’t fucking say a goddamn thing.”
I shifted my gaze down his blackberry suit, feeling the immensity of him, wishing I could touch it.
“Is Wolfe getting married?” I tried not to care. Of course, he would wait until I left to make Lyla permanent. “What is this?”
“Married?” he lifted his lip. “No. I am being dragged to the Underworld dickoff between the uppers on the water tonight. It’s this moonlight cruise thing, I don’t know. It sounds like shit.”
“He chose you to be the body?” I shifted in the dark, searching for a light switch.
Damn, it was cold in here.
“Yep.”
Body meant playing guard, and I hated protection details because being chosen to absorb the hits was lose-lose when it came to Thay and Wolfe.
“Let me talk to him,” I continued to feel up the wall.
“No. I need to be there tonight. I have to ensure they take the bait.”
Awe. There it is. I flicked it on, squinting in horror. What in the hell! I turned it back off again, rubbing my temple to get rid of the stars.
“What do you mean, take the bait?” I asked when Thay released a slight smile that he refused to let hit his eyes.
“Not your business, Daph.”
I spun, hitting my knee on the table. “Shit!” I yelped, hopping into more wood.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Trying not to die in this kitchen!” I screeched, falling into the bedroom to find the nearest window. “I have to admit,” I said, throwing open the single pane of glass. “I am kind of jealous that everyone gets to look at you tonight.”
“Don’t be,” his voice sank. “They might all get to look, Daph, but you’re the only one who gets to see.”
I leaned into the unfamiliar current drifting through my new window, and suddenly I was tired. And not the kind cured by sleep. This fatigue was in my soul. In my body. In the way I needed him.
“Maybe I want more,” I confessed, writing my sins out loud.
“Maybe I do, too,” he said low.
I paused, glancing back into the phone, searching for the lie, but none was there. There was just Thay and his deadly eyes peering at me through long lashes.
“I’ll call you.” He nodded, and before I could say goodbye, the screen went black.
Like everything else.
The room was empty. Cold and unfamiliar. Just like the world without him.
“Hey!” someone said, popping into the window, but I did not have time to process. His voice hit, and all I could see was red before throwing my fist at whatever I could catch.
“Wait,” the plea shot out, but it was too late. My fingers plowed straight into bone. “Holy shit,” a man groaned, hitting the sand with a thud. “I think you broke my nose.”
“What?” I leaned out, angling my phone down to see my attacker. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Finn Emerson,” he peered up, holding his face. “Your mentor?”
“Oh, fuck.” I scrambled out the window, landing beside him. “I am sorry. I, uh. Reflexes.”
“I tried knocking, but no one answered.”
“So you thought you’d crawl through the window?” Irony caught in my throat, but I choked it down.
“It felt less creepy in my head,” he groaned. “But my aunt forgot to stock the fridge, and since you’re stuck out here, I wanted to make sure you had dinner.”
Make sure I had dinner? Finn’s words repeated until they stuck. I was safe.
“Here,” I grabbed him by his massive biceps, hauling him upright onto his feet. “You scared the shit out of me!” I laughed, flashing an awkward smile.
Finn Emerson was tan, lean, jock-strong, with wavy, sandy-brown hair that made his chocolate eyes sparkle.
“Same,” he groaned, pressing his powder-blue shirt to his nose. “Where did you learn to punch like that?” Finn asked, staring down at me. He had to be at least three inches taller, but he felt manageable. A Squishamallow who let ice cream dribble down his chin.
“Underworld overlords,” I grinned, watching his lips twitch at what he would pass off as a lie. All the men schooled me in fighting, but it was Nathem who taught me how to win.
“Overlords. Huh?” He lowered his shirt and checked the damage. “Most people say their dad.”
“Never had one of those,” I mumbled, pointing at the bundle beside him before he could pivot. “Is that for me?”
“Yeah,” he shifted, picking up the wicker basket and handing it over. “Hopefully, it’s still intact.”
“Thank you.” I carried it to the window and set it on the side table. “Wait. Emerson?” I tilted my head.
“Yes, Finn Emerson.”
“The midwife?” I mouthed, my brows crashing together.
“Oh, she’s getting it. Cute.”
Was he flirting with me? Did I want to be flirted with?
“Wait. You’re a midwife. Or mid-husband?” I bowed in awe. In all my years of studying, I’d never met one male brave enough to claim the title.
Fuck yes.
“Midwife. My whole family is. My mother is Emma Emerson.”
What a name.
Finn blinked, shifting his expression while we stared at each other in the darkness. After a few seconds, I pressed my lips together and looked away. Awkward!
“Holy shit!” he gawked, making me jump.
“What?”
“You’ve never heard of her!” He laughed, his nose already turning purple. “How are you going to kiss her ass if you don’t know who she is?”
Kiss her what? Something inside me thundered because that wasn’t me.
“No. Sorry. I had little time to ask questions before they shoved me onto a plane.”
“Really?” he blinked. “I mean, we are a Showflix documentary and everything. My mom basically rejuvenated the profession in Western culture, or at least that is how it reads in print.”
“That’s great for you,” I shrugged. Famous people did not really do it for me! You know what did? Kind people. Humans who kept other humans from starving. People who gave a shit! Now, that was impressive.
“Who do you think you’re interning for?”
“Canada,” I blurted with a shrug, unsure if that was still a goal.
“Ha.” He glanced at his feet the same way most do when they live in the shadows of greatness. “Well, she has strings to pull if that is what you are aiming for.”
“I am not sure what I want,” I dug my toes into the sand. Just who. “But you?” I marveled, catching his embarrassment. “You’re a midwife?”
“Yes.” He shifted slightly in the sand before flashing me a practiced smile.
“I am sure you are tired of this conversation, but how did this happen?”
“Honestly, it is all in the documentary.” He laughed.
“But I don’t know. I assisted with my mom’s births growing up, and after I graduated high school, I couldn’t imagine walking away from that part of myself.
I am damn good at it,” he smiled with a quiet sigh, and I loved this for him.
“I guess it was never really a question of what I wanted to be, but whether the profession was ready for me to be it.”
“Well, that and your football team.”
I did not mean that to be an asshole. I knew what it was like to have twenty Death Eaters stare at you after expressing your desire to deliver babies for the rest of your life. Most women growing up in the club dorms only ever learned to hold on, and there I was, telling them I was about to let go.
“Rowing,” he corrected, flexing his forearms and tugging them behind his head. Hot damn. “But yes. That, too.”
“Right. Rowing!” I cheesed out a grin. “Maine. Lobster rolls. Got it.”
“Watch it, Socks-With-Sandals!” He teased, leading me to the front door. Apparently, my crawling back through the window was out of the question. “Wouldn’t want all that space granola to keep you from appreciating this opportunity.”
“Space granola?” I sneered. “That’s not a thing.”
He wiggled the lock, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him I could pick one with my eyes closed. Literally, Jessie made me do it blindfolded.
“No?” he gave it another tug. “You’re telling me you don’t like granola?”
“I love it,” I shook my head. “And I wear flannel, can sing every song from the Bleach album, and I have been known to kick ass at hacky sack, so!” I glimmered, checking all the Pacific Northwest boxes I could think of.
“What in the hell,” he yanked one last time, watching in satisfaction when it squeaked open, “is a hacky sack?”
I nodded in approval at his skills.
“It’s a game… So does mentor mean I’ll be delivering with you?” I asked, entering the kitchen.
“Yep!” He inspected the lock to ensure he did not break it. “I am afraid you’re stuck with me for the next two months.”
“I think it’s you who should be afraid,” I said from the doorway. “Sorry, I broke your nose.”
Finn dragged his bloody fingers through his hair, shooting a smirk I could tell he’d fired before. A midwife fuckboy, now there is a Showflix documentary I would watch.
“I’m not,” he uttered, shifting his charm into something almost dangerous. Something I imagined buttery girls in pink sundresses creating entire shrines to. But it was cotton candy: sugary, soft, and forgettable.
“Sweet dreams, Birkenstocks,” he called me. “Oh, and make sure you shut your window tonight. You never know who could crawl through.”
I flinched, palming my chest to keep the heat from burning into my throat.
Ping. I closed the door.
Thay: Got this today while you were on the plane.
I breathed through the slow death of three-dot hell and crashed face-first into the mattress.
Thay: Hope you like it.
A strange swirl hit me between my thighs when the image of a Seattle Public Library Card came into focus.
He had never done this before, teased me with sex, or flirted with the idea of wanting more.
Maybe it was because I left, but even that proved too simple.
No. Something had happened. A shift in the universe, a chasm he could not close.
A fucking rift in his soul, and now he was bleeding to death.
I bit my lip, tracing the letters in his signature.
Me: Eight Saturdays!
Dot. Dot. Dot.
Thay: Your turn
Me: To what?
Thay: To send me something.
Dot. Dot. Dot.
Thay: And it better be hot.