your mother?”
“Because of me.” They were the hardest words I’d ever said, but I wouldn’t take them back. My dad had a right to know what had happened to Cecily. She was the only woman he’d ever loved and he had spent most of the last decade pining for her.
“It’s not your fault if she was protecting you—”
“I was supposed to be protecting her.”
My dad slid a cup of hot cocoa across the counter at me, his expression pained but not nearly as condemning as I’d expected it to be. As I’d feared it would be.
“Explain.”
So I did, telling him how I’d been in a face-off with Tiamat only weeks after I’d become mermaid. How I’d had to make a choice between Kona and Cecily, had to decide who she was going to go for first. How I’d made the wrong choice and then had to watch as she’d killed my mother in front of me.
My father seemed to collapse inward a little more with each word I said, each new fact that I revealed. When I was done, I braced myself for his condemnation, for the anger I knew was well deserved. Not only had I failed to protect my mother, I had spent nearly a year lying to him about it.
For a long time, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t do anything. Then, when he did move, it was for something completely unexpected. He came around the counter and wrapped me in his arms, hugging me as tightly as he could.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you had to go through that and so sorry you felt you couldn’t talk to me about it before. I love you and think you are the bravest young woman I have ever met.”
He kissed the top of my head, and then I was hugging him too. Hugging and sobbing in a way I hadn’t done since I was a little girl. And he let me, settling down on the nearest barstool and pulling me onto his lap, where he rocked me back and forth. He didn’t try to interrupt, didn’t try to reason with me. He just held me like I was a child, soothing me while I cried out all the pain and grief and confusion that had haunted me for the last year.
“My poor girl,” he murmured as I sobbed. “My poor little girl.”
When I finally wound down, he reached behind him and ripped some paper towels off the roll. Then handed them to me with the order to “Blow.”
I did, a couple of times, before wiping the salty residue of tears from my cheeks. Then, embarrassed to have behaved like such a baby, I slid off his lap and dumped the paper towels in the trash can at the end of the island.
I couldn’t look him in the eye, not now that he knew the truth about me. I felt exposed, raw, ashamed, as I waited for the other shoe to drop.
But it never came. Instead, my dad nudged my cup of hot chocolate toward me and said, “Drink it. The warmth will do you good.”
I did, but then it was my turn to be tension filled, my turn to brace for a blow. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I demanded, “Aren’t you going to say something? Anything?”
“Not until you look at me.”
It was a command, for all that it was voiced softly, and my gaze shot up to his.
“That’s better.” He smiled faintly, but it faded quickly, replaced by a look of such intense determination and anger and love that I sucked a breath in, held it. “Tempest, I think you are one of the bravest, most incredible people I have ever met in my life. That you would even think to go up against that heinous, evil bitch to save your mother—after only weeks in the ocean—both terrifies me and makes me so incredibly proud. You have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to feel responsible for—”
“You don’t understand! I made the wrong decision; I got her killed—”
“Cecily got herself killed, Tempest. She chose that way of life, chose to be mermaid even when it demanded impossible things from her. She could have walked away. Hell, she did walk away for ten years. But in the end …”
“She missed the ocean.”
“She missed the power .” He drained his own cup of hot chocolate before placing it carefully
“Because of me.” They were the hardest words I’d ever said, but I wouldn’t take them back. My dad had a right to know what had happened to Cecily. She was the only woman he’d ever loved and he had spent most of the last decade pining for her.
“It’s not your fault if she was protecting you—”
“I was supposed to be protecting her.”
My dad slid a cup of hot cocoa across the counter at me, his expression pained but not nearly as condemning as I’d expected it to be. As I’d feared it would be.
“Explain.”
So I did, telling him how I’d been in a face-off with Tiamat only weeks after I’d become mermaid. How I’d had to make a choice between Kona and Cecily, had to decide who she was going to go for first. How I’d made the wrong choice and then had to watch as she’d killed my mother in front of me.
My father seemed to collapse inward a little more with each word I said, each new fact that I revealed. When I was done, I braced myself for his condemnation, for the anger I knew was well deserved. Not only had I failed to protect my mother, I had spent nearly a year lying to him about it.
For a long time, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t do anything. Then, when he did move, it was for something completely unexpected. He came around the counter and wrapped me in his arms, hugging me as tightly as he could.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you had to go through that and so sorry you felt you couldn’t talk to me about it before. I love you and think you are the bravest young woman I have ever met.”
He kissed the top of my head, and then I was hugging him too. Hugging and sobbing in a way I hadn’t done since I was a little girl. And he let me, settling down on the nearest barstool and pulling me onto his lap, where he rocked me back and forth. He didn’t try to interrupt, didn’t try to reason with me. He just held me like I was a child, soothing me while I cried out all the pain and grief and confusion that had haunted me for the last year.
“My poor girl,” he murmured as I sobbed. “My poor little girl.”
When I finally wound down, he reached behind him and ripped some paper towels off the roll. Then handed them to me with the order to “Blow.”
I did, a couple of times, before wiping the salty residue of tears from my cheeks. Then, embarrassed to have behaved like such a baby, I slid off his lap and dumped the paper towels in the trash can at the end of the island.
I couldn’t look him in the eye, not now that he knew the truth about me. I felt exposed, raw, ashamed, as I waited for the other shoe to drop.
But it never came. Instead, my dad nudged my cup of hot chocolate toward me and said, “Drink it. The warmth will do you good.”
I did, but then it was my turn to be tension filled, my turn to brace for a blow. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I demanded, “Aren’t you going to say something? Anything?”
“Not until you look at me.”
It was a command, for all that it was voiced softly, and my gaze shot up to his.
“That’s better.” He smiled faintly, but it faded quickly, replaced by a look of such intense determination and anger and love that I sucked a breath in, held it. “Tempest, I think you are one of the bravest, most incredible people I have ever met in my life. That you would even think to go up against that heinous, evil bitch to save your mother—after only weeks in the ocean—both terrifies me and makes me so incredibly proud. You have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to feel responsible for—”
“You don’t understand! I made the wrong decision; I got her killed—”
“Cecily got herself killed, Tempest. She chose that way of life, chose to be mermaid even when it demanded impossible things from her. She could have walked away. Hell, she did walk away for ten years. But in the end …”
“She missed the ocean.”
“She missed the power .” He drained his own cup of hot chocolate before placing it carefully
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