7. Rowan
Rowan
It was too much, too fast. I’d gone days, sometimes weeks, without speaking to anyone at all, not to mention having someone in my personal space or even touching me. Milo had blown into my life just like the storm I’d found him in, and I was close to drowning.
“You want to mate with me.” His voice replayed in my mind and I could have shouted in frustration, confusion, excitement. I wasn’t even sure anymore. Too much. Fuck, I’d almost just gone along with it.
That would have been wrong. Right?
There was no way I could let myself do anything like that with him.
We weren’t even the same goddamn species.
He was so… sweet. So na?ve and trusting.
I’d brought him home with me because he was injured, because there’d been no other option at the time.
But he was awake now, and he was clearly fine.
I couldn’t let him stay here, and I couldn’t let myself take advantage of his nature.
No matter what my dick had to say about it.
It was just a moment of weakness, I told myself. I hadn’t been expecting it, and that was on me. But now I knew to keep my guard up around him.
It wouldn’t matter for long anyway. I was taking him back tonight. Then all would be how it should be. I’d be alone, and he’d be back with his friends and family, where he belonged. With the selkies. Not with a depressed, boring, human fisherman like me.
I’d lied to him.
I didn’t have anything to do or any place to go.
Though I didn’t feel right leaving him alone either.
He might have needed me, or more likely, gotten himself into some form of trouble.
That’s why I was currently hiding away in the shed next to my small yellow house.
So I could get to him quickly if I needed to.
For now, I just needed to breathe. To collect my thoughts, and to brace myself for the amount of energy I needed to deal with him without getting blown over by the hurricane he was.
Cleaning up the shed had been a project on my list I’d been avoiding for years, but it became very urgent that I do it today. I couldn’t possibly go back inside until I was done.
By the time I was finished, the sky had shifted subtly, navy to a deep cobalt blue and back. In my rush to escape the house, I hadn’t bothered putting on a watch, but I didn’t really need one. I knew the polar night sky enough to know it was early evening.
It wouldn’t be long until the town would sleep, and I’d be taking Milo home. My stomach twisted, and I told myself it was only because I hadn’t eaten anything today. Milo would be hungry again too, assuming he hadn’t gotten into whatever food I had in my kitchen by himself.
My musing on what I’d even say to him when I went back inside was brought to an abrupt halt when I heard a loud crash coming from inside the house. My feet moved faster than my mind as I dashed up the couple of steps and slammed the door open.
One of my wooden dining chairs was on its back on the floor by the open pantry door, the leg of which was snapped and splintered beside it, and a large harp seal was quickly galumphing away, his body scooting and bouncing as he tried to escape the scene of the crime.
I sighed, feeling my heart still trying to beat out of my chest as I inhaled deeply and gently closed the front door.
Milo made his way back over to the fireplace, where he’d shoved my coffee table out of the way and had collected a stack of blankets and clothing to lie there instead, including the sheets from my bed.
On top of it were all the items he’d collected throughout the day and torn-open food packages he must have found in my pantry.
I kicked off my boots and approached him carefully.
“Milo, are you hurt?”
The seal said nothing.
I sighed and reached for the wooden bear ornament, planning to move it and the items surrounding it out of the way so I could take a seat on the soft pile beside him.
He growled at me. I hesitated, my fingertips hovering above it for a moment, before I continued. I’d barely managed to lift it an inch before he rolled toward me and snapped at my hand, causing me to drop it again.
“Hey,” I scolded him. “Don’t bite!”
He huffed angrily.
Was he really getting territorial over my stuff? Big black eyes watched me with a warning in them as I glanced down at my things on the blanket again. I sighed, leaving them where they were. I’d just clean this up after he left, then.
“Do you want anything to eat before we head out?” I asked after a brief staring contest that I let him win.
He huffed again, and turned back toward the fire, closing his eyes and putting his head down on the blanket.
What was that supposed to mean?
“Milo?” I prompted him.
He ignored me.
“Milo, talk to me.”
Nothing.
So, I was getting the silent treatment from a seal in my own living room on a pile of my own stuff that I wasn’t allowed to touch. Certainly not how I’d anticipated the day going.
“Fine,” I sighed, walking back to the kitchen to deal with the chair. It was probably fixable, if I could be bothered after all this was over. For now, I could put it in my newly organized shed where it wouldn’t be a seal safety hazard.
Milo had torn his way through my pantry, leaving very little behind.
There was a ripped-open box of pasta he’d clearly decided he wasn’t a fan of, probably because it wasn’t cooked. It would have to do for now.
As I salvaged what was left of it and put it on to boil, Milo remained where he was by the fire, looking at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention and pretending to be asleep when I turned in his direction.
I used the last of the butter, some garlic, herbs, and salt, and made a simple meal for two. He’d have to talk to me if he wanted it, though.
When it was done and plated, I set it on the table and took one of the remaining seats. My stomach growled in appreciation as I started to eat.
It only took a couple of minutes before Milo gave up on fake sleeping and scooted over to me, giving a demanding bark.
“No,” I told him, taking in another mouthful. “If you want some, you’ll have to shift and get it yourself.”
He barked again.
“I don’t speak seal,” I told him, continuing my meal.
His teeth snapped at my ankles.
My chair scraped against the ground as I stood up, and I marched back toward the door to grab my steel-capped fishing boots and pull them on before I returned to the table to continue eating.
He snapped at the boots, then growled in annoyance as I failed to respond further.
Without looking, I could feel him warring with himself over whether he wanted to continue his tantrum or surrender to get the food.
“If you won’t eat it, I will.”
He huffed.
I heard shuffling under the table, then a slender hand with gray fingers was creeping over the surface to get to the plate. I pulled it slowly out of reach. When Milo couldn’t find it, white hair and black eyes peeked over the edge to scowl at me.
“Nice of you to join me.”
He huffed.
“Would you like some pasta?”
His eyes narrowed, and his voice sounded pouty as he finally spoke to me. “Yes.”
“Take a seat.”
He stared for a long moment before groaning, crawling out from under the table, and plopping himself down in the chair, his seal coat slung over his shoulder.
I slowly pushed the plate back toward him again, only to yank it back when a hand tried to snatch it from me.
“This is a fork,” I told him, holding up the utensil in my other hand. “We use it to eat things like this, so our hands don’t get dirty. Try it, please.”
His brow was furrowed in annoyance, and though his eyes were pure black, I could still tell when he rolled them at me. But he did as I asked and picked up the fork.
Such a brat.
“Eat it slowly.” I put the plate down in front of him, half expecting him to just steal it and run off to go eat it on his hoard of stolen things, but to my surprise he shuffled closer on his chair and looked between the fork and his plate, then at me.
I demonstrated, scooping some up and slowly bringing it to my mouth.
He copied me, grunting in frustration when the noodles fell off his fork the first time. And the second. On his third attempt, he managed to get it to his mouth, and any remaining bitterness faded away as his eyes lit up and his full lips spread into a wide, proud smile.
His smile was so beautiful. My heart skipped a beat. “Good job.”
Milo smiled wider, more confident when he scooped up the next mouthful.
I finished before him, then watched in contented silence as he ate what I’d made him. Though it was simple, and though I knew he’d still be mad at me when the food ran out, my chest ached with warmth at having someone to cook for. Someone to care for. Even if it was only temporary.