My shoes dangle from my fingertips. My bare toes sink into the sand, the grains sticking in between them. The sand suddenly seems deeper, thicker, like it’s trying to suck me right into the beach.

Erik is the only way I can have everything I’ve ever wanted. The only way to guarantee I never turn into my mom. Without him, I’ll never be able to keep Cole and all the others safe.

It’s only with Erik I can be normal. But I wish he cared more about who I was. Wish he asked me about things that mattered. Favorite ice cream? That’s easy. What about my biggest fear? Greatest hope? Doesn’t he care about those things?

This only works if I can love him . . . and what if I can’t?

Because with Erik, it’s so easy to keep him at arm’s length. So easy to keep everything skin deep, never looking beyond that.

Never falling. With him, everything is about the curse, and nothing is about . . .

Me.

We get back to the beach house and thunk down on the couch, and I feel more tired than ever. Erik rubs my shoulders as we sit in the quiet, the sounds of the ocean rushing in through the open windows. I’ve never felt so totally worn down, exhausted. I want to curl up in a ball and let the world pass me by.

“You okay?” He leans forward, traces his lips along my neck, his breath hot on my skin. You okay? just reminds me of Cole. Of all his questions. Of the way he met my eyes and seemed to look deep into my soul, wanting a real answer. Why do I feel like Erik is asking that just because he thinks he should? Why do I feel as though he doesn’t want an answer at all?

I have no reason to think that. He’s never done anything wrong. Not specifically anyway.

I nod, but I don’t speak.

“You’ve seemed a little . . . off since this morning,” he says. He doesn’t add “since I said I love you,” but I know he’s thinking it. I look down at my hands, wring them together. My mouth is so dry it’s like someone jammed an entire package of cotton balls down my throat.

“Erik . . .” My voice trails off, weak and quiet.

“Yeah?” He gives me a squeeze, then leans back again, relaxes against the couch.

I relish that I finally have a little room to breathe. “Do you ever feel like . . . like maybe there should be something more?”

The air turns heavy, the silence deafening. I imagine him staring at the back of my head, blinking over and over.

“More than what?”

I twist the blue bracelet in circles around my wrist. “I don’t know. Like . . . like this should be . . . deeper or something.” I twist around to look him in the eye. “Like . . . chemistry. Some deeper pull, or desire, or . . . something.”

Jeez, I’m butchering this.

I shift around, trying to get comfortable, but there’s no position that makes this any easier. And it doesn’t matter anyway. Wherever I go, I can feel his eyes boring into my skin.

“Is this about seeing Cole with Nikki at the dance?”

“What? No. I mean ... not really. I don’t know.” I slide away from him and sit on the other side of the couch. I need to see him, to face him directly so that I don’t have to guess as at his expression. “Doesn’t it kind of feel like we’re trying too hard here? Would you even care about me at all if I weren’t a siren?”

His lips part, his eyes flaring a bit. “What? Of course I would. I told you . . . I love you. It’s not about you being a siren.” He sits back and looks away for a second, out at the beach through the big picture window. Then he looks back at me just as quickly. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I don’t care about you? Or that I only do because of what you are?”

“Well . . . yeah. I just don’t know if this is real, you know? Or if we’re just forcing it.”

Erik slides over on the couch, making up the distance between us. He takes my hands in his. “I promise you, this is all very real to me. You’re . . . amazing. Sweet and beautiful and smart. It’s not about being a siren, I swear. I mean, sure, that’s what brought me to you. But I never would have stayed if I didn’t think this could be something real.”

I let out a long breath of air through my lips, then look up at him, into the dark blue eyes that remind me so much of what’s in the mirror. “I just feel like I need to know you. As a person not as . . . a nix.”

He nods. “Of course.”

“Do you think . . . do you think maybe we could slow this all down?”

His eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this all happened so fast, and I can’t keep up because we are together so much and everything is constantly changing. I just need time to process it. I just want a few nights to go back to my swimming and hanging with my Grandma and let everything just ... settle in, you know? I just feel really out of sorts, and I need time to adjust.” My voice has a hint of a quiver in it. I don’t even know why I’m doing this, what I want. Guilt pools in my stomach when I see his stricken expression.

He reaches out and grasps my hand. “Are you sure? My eighteenth is coming up, and how will you fall for me in time if we’re not together? I can’t kill someone, Lexi. I can’t.”

He’s squeezing my hand too hard. I pull it away, and then I stand. “Please. Just a couple days, okay? Let me adjust to this. I’m not leaving you, I swear.”

He stands, but I put out a hand, and he reluctantly sits back down. “Two days?”

I nod, the lump growing in my throat.

“Okay,” he says. “I can handle two days. But my birthday is barely a week away. I can’t give you much longer.”

“Thank you,” I say. I lean forward, brush my lips against his. He grabs my cheek with one hand, his fingers curving behind my head, and pulls me closer, until our kiss lingers so long I’m out of breath.

I pull away from him, the taste of him lingering on my lips. “I’ll be back in a couple of days,” I say.

“Until then,” he says. I nod, and then leave him sitting there on the couch, surrounded by the ocean’s scent.