Bear, Otter, and the Kid (The Seafare Chronicles 1)

“Say the truth.”

“This is the truth, Otter.” My voice is wavering, and I fight to keep control.

“No, it’s not. Two hours ago you loved me. Two hours ago, I believed you would do anything for me because you knew I would do anything for you.”

“I do love you, Otter. Just not in the way you want.” For that, I will never forgive myself.

“I don’t believe that, either. As a matter of fact, I haven’t believed a word you’ve said since you got here tonight.”

“What more do you want me to say?” I ask. Who needs you more?

“I want the truth, Bear. I think I deserve that, at least. I think that after all we’ve been through, after everything I’ve done to get back to you, I’ve earned that right.”

“Go back home, Otter,” I say, wanting to stop but unable to do so as I picture Ty being led away from me, being taken away from me.

“What?”

“Go back to San Diego. Go back and find your life.” I shudder at my words, knowing they are going to haunt me for the rest of my life, knowing this moment will forever be burned into my memory.

“You’re a coward.”

“I know,” I whisper, almost involuntarily.

“Then why?” he says, and I hear him climb to his feet. I look up at him and see him take a hesitant step toward me and then another and another. His eyes are wet and hard, and he’s never looked at me like this before, not even when he’s been at his angriest. He’s wounded and he’s hurt and I caused it. I made it happen, but I know there’s nothing I can do to take it away, to take it back. I’ve cut him tonight, and he’s bleeding right before me, and I am as he’s said: a coward.

“Otter, just let me go,” I mumble. “Just let me go away from here. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t do this—”

“I’ve fought for you,” he says, his voice matching his eyes, and he takes another step. “All my life, I’ve fought for you.”

“I know.” I grimace, my stomach knotting up again, my head beginning to ache.

“The fight for you is all I’ve ever—”

“Don’t say it,” I interrupt. “Don’t say that to me.”

Another step.

“I’ll say whatever the fuck I want to say to you,” he growls at me. “I love you, and I always have, and I will fight for you. You can say what you want, but I will fight for you again.”

Another step.

“No,” I say, reaching down to find the last shred of resolve I have.

Another step.

“Yes,” he says, and the ocean begins to recede, and the thunder is growing distant, and I’m losing it, and I almost don’t care. I want him to save me. I want him to keep me from drowning, and I have time to think that maybe this will be okay, that maybe it’s better if we’re together because together we can fight her, together we can make sure everything she threatened will never happen. A ray of sunlight pierces the clouds, and I feel myself start to grow warm as Otter takes another step, and I can see his eyes soften ever so slightly, and at this moment, I know I need him more than I have ever needed anybody. He takes the final step, and he’s standing in front of me, and I look up into the gold-green, and I think that everything could be okay, that we could do this, that we can make our life in this little corner of the world, and nobody will ever disturb us again, and I’ll grow old with him, and I know that it’s possible. I know that it’s perfectly logical. I know it’s inevitable, and who am I to deny that, just who the fuck am I to fight that? But that’s what mak

es it hurt so much more.

And that’s because I know I can’t take that risk.

I take a step back, and I dig down deep into the depths, feeling myself choke on the bitter saltwater as it burns its way down the back of my throat. I feel the murky bottom, and my hands slide into the silt there, and I find buried my last bit of resolve, the last part of me that can look into that gold-green like it means nothing, like it hasn’t changed me forever, like it hasn’t shaken me to my core time and time again. But that’s the thing about the ocean: it will always be there, no matter what you do.

“This thing,” I say quietly, “this obsession you have with me needs to end.”

His eyes flinch as if I raised my fist to his face, and I know I’ve struck a chord this time, and it hits me, making what I’ve but no choice to do that much harder. Whether he’s wanted to admit it to himself or not, he has obsessed over me, so much so that it blinded him to almost everything else. Part of me has ingrained myself in him, making it near impossible to focus on his own life. I know this, only because he’s done the same to me.

The buzzing in my ears grows louder, and I can’t help but notice how it sounds so very much like listening to waves in a shell.