Mark shook his head, but he was laughing as hard as I was when he called, “Just for the record, Tempest sleeps in flannels!”
“Bummer.” Scooter winked at me before climbing into the front passenger seat of Bach’s Blazer.
Mark and I watched them go before climbing into his car. “I really missed them,” I told him as we headed toward home.
“The feeling is mutual.” He reached over and brushed a hand down my jaw. “Sorry for keeping you out so late. I know you’re tired.”
“It was great. I had an awesome time.”
“So did I.” He paused. “They aren’t the only ones who missed you, you know.”
My stomach tightened—not because he’d missed me, but because I had yet to tell Mark how long it was going to be before I could see him again. With Hailana at death’s door, things were getting critical in Coral Straits. There was a tension in the streets that hadn’t been there before the attack that had injured her, a new sense of being unsettled. I needed to be there when she died, and for a while afterward—just to keep things stable and prove that the mercity still had strong leadership. Which meant I had no idea when I was next going to be able to swim the huge distance to La Jolla. I refused to acknowledge the fact that I might never make it back.
“Tempest?” Mark prompted. “What’s wrong?”
More things than I could name. My conversation with Logan weighed heavily on my mind, as did the fact that I didn’t trust Sabrina. I was worried about losing what I had with Mark and my friends and family, and absolutely terrified of taking on the role of sovereign of Coral Straits. And that didn’t even begin to touch how I felt about facing Kona and the other sea clan leaders as the new merQueen of the most powerful merclan in the Pacific.
I was going to make mistakes as merQueen—I was smart enough to know that much. But how big the mistakes and how many? And would the clan suffer for them? Would the entire Pacific? With Tiamat wounded but sure to resurface and her grandnephew and number-one minion, Sabyn, still on the loose, this was the worst possible time for a shift in leadership. Though I didn’t get along with Hailana and often thought she was a cold, merciless bitch, I still wasn’t ready for her to die. Not if it meant I had to take her place. And definitely not if it meant I had to lose every trace of humanity I had. Like Hailana had. Like my mother had.
Mark reached over and flipped on the heat, and for the first time it registered that I was freezing, my teeth all but chattering in the silence of the car.
“Thanks.” His hand was still resting on my cheek, so I turned my head and brushed a kiss over his palm. “I don’t deserve you.”
“I don’t think you know what you deserve, Tempest.” The words sounded harsh in the cozy interior of the car, like they were ripped from him. I didn’t comment on it, though. How could I when I so often felt the same way about him? God knew he deserved more than being a part-time boyfriend to a girl who couldn’t guarantee anything much beyond the next sunrise.
Neither of us spoke again until we were parked in my driveway. The light in the living room was still on, left burning for me by my father. Some of the chill deep inside me melted away at the sight of it. For too long, the light had been out, my dad assuming that, like my mother before me, I had taken to the sea never to return. Now, every time I came home—from a date with Mark or an extended trip into the depths of the ocean—and saw that light burning, I felt like someone believed in me and what I was doing. Someone believed I could do everything, be everything I needed to be, even when I was riddled with doubt.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked, reaching for the door handle.
He stopped me with a hand on my arm. “No, I, umm …” He shoved a hand through his hair and suddenly he was looking everywhere but at me, which so wasn’t like him.
“You okay, Mark?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” But he still hadn’t made eye contact.
“You sure?”
“Yes.” He turned abruptly, climbed out of the car. “Do you, uh, want to go for a walk on the beach or something?”
I stared at him, bewildered. Was he serious? He’d rather walk on the freezing beach than go inside and hook up? It didn’t make any sense.
“No, that’s stupid, right?” He shoved a hand through his hair. “It’s cold and you’re already freezing.”
“No, it’s fine. We can walk on the beach if you want.”
My mind was whirling, all kinds of weird and unwanted thoughts running through it. Considerations, worries that I hadn’t been aware I had until this moment. The night had gone well, or at least I thought it had, but maybe Mark hadn’t been as impressed.
I racked my brain, trying to figure out if I’d done something to upset him. He’d seemed amused at the game, had taken Logan’s and Scooter’s teasing in stride. He’d even lied for me in the pizza parlor, telling Scooter that he had seen pictures of me surfing the North Shore.
Maybe that was it. Mark hated lying. In all the years I’d known him, the closest I’d ever heard him come to telling an untruth—before tonight—was when he’d told me he was interested in Chelsea the cheerleader in an effort to save face when I was about to dump him for Kona. It’s why I had believed him unquestioningly, even though cheerleaders weren’t really Mark’s type. He’d spent his life with parents who were experts at lying—to him, to each other, to themselves—and hated every second of it. He’d told me once that he wouldn’t accept that kind of life for himself.
And yet here I was forcing him into exactly that kind of life, expecting him to lie for me whenever things got sticky. No wonder he was acting so strangely.
By now I was walking so fast I was practically running, desperate to escape my thoughts. Mark kept pace with me easily, but he grabbed my arm right before we reached the sand. Pulled me to a stop. “Hey, where’s the fire?”
I shook my head, not trusting myself to answer. He didn’t speak either, choosing to wait me out instead. The downside of having a boyfriend who knew me this well—I hate tense silences, will always try to fill them.
“Just tell me. If you want me to apologize, I will. I never wanted—”
“Apologize? For what?” He shook his head, looking very much like I felt. Confused and anxious and maybe even a little desperate. “I just—I wanted—” He stopped himself, took a deep breath. “I got you a present.”
The words were so unexpected that it took me a long while to process them. Too long, judging by the look on Mark’s face as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box with a silver ribbon on top.
“A present,” I finally repeated dumbly.
“Yeah.” He held the box out to me. “Originally it was going to be for your birthday, but I don’t know. It just feels right to give it to you tonight.”
My hand trembled as I reached out to take the gift from him. “That wasn’t—I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Yeah, that’s fairly obvious.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Not yet, when relief was coursing through me, making my knees weak and my stomach jumpy. I grabbed on to Mark’s arm with my free hand, let his warmth steady me.