Chapter Text
Right from the day I saw your face,
it all just felt so right — And when I look back,
I see the smile you gave to me that night.
You are the gate right to my heart,
I wanna live like this forever and ever.
Cleo curls her fingers into the smooth linen of Lewis’s shirt, the fabric warm from the heat of his body. Beneath her touch, his heartbeat thuds steady against her palm. It reminds her of the soft underwater hush she hears when she swims over her favorite reef — the little one that glows neon when the morning sun hits it just right, just off Mako Island’s southern shore. She closes her eyes and breathes in his cologne. Warm driftwood and juniper wind. A hint of white cypress. A note of sandalwood. It settles her some, makes the world feel less sharp.
The ocean attacked them tonight. The water itself. It rose out of the little bay by the old JuiceNet building — Rikki’s now — like a great beast of the sea, lifting itself in a slick, impossible column before ripping Rikki off the shore as if she weighed nothing at all. One moment Rikki was telling Bella to get lost; the next, she was gone, yanked into the blue‑black depths by a force that felt disturbingly sentient.
And the Moon Pool. Their special place. It had churned and heaved around the three of them as if retching up rotten food. An unearthly glow beneath its surface flickered like a sharp warning. The cavern walls echoed with every crash of water against sand and stone. The climbing terror that had seized Cleo by the throat lingers still. Even now, curled into Lewis’s side, she can’t shake that rib-squeezing, gut-wrenching fear. It’s still hard to catch her breath. The Moon Pool hadn’t been a sanctuary tonight. It had been a battleground.
The injured man lying in the sand, too… Will… What all had he seen? What might he remember in the coming days? Weeks?
“You okay?” Lewis asks in that gentle, reassuring way of his. The sound of him pulls her back from the dark water. Brings her to the present.
Cleo nods and musters up the best lie she can. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m worried for Rikki, more than anything. She’s the one who…”
She trails off, unable to say it.
Lewis hugs her tighter against him, rests his cheek against the top of her head. The feeling of his exhale, of his tight embrace, soothes her.
“I know,” he whispers. “I know. But Rikki is okay. And so are you. And so am I. We’re all okay.”
It takes everything in her not to let the tears burning behind her eyes slip free. For the first time since Rikki was pulled into the water, she feels safe. For the most part, anyway. Her dad is working late again — not unusual, not since her mother walked out. She knows if he were to walk into her bedroom and find her in bed with Lewis, he’d ground her until she graduated university. After he physically removed Lewis from the property, that is. They weren’t doing anything inappropriate; Cleo just can’t bear to be away from him yet. Not tonight.
“Things have been going so well,” she finally says. “For the first time in three years, things have actually been going well. Things have been easy! Even Kimmy has been less of a pain this summer. Why—”
Cleo cuts herself off. A tear escapes, drips down her cheek like rain down a windowpane. If tears could transform her, she thinks, she’d never have legs again.
“Life is just like that sometimes,” Lewis replies. “I know it’s … a shitty answer to an equally shitty question but … life comes in waves. Good, bad. Good, bad. So on and so forth.”
Life comes in waves. . . Cleo snorts. Tries not to blow snot all over Lewis’s nice shirt. “In waves, huh? Is that a mermaid joke?”
She feels Lewis smile. “Why? Was it funny?”
“Not in the least,” she says.
Lewis shrugs. “Then no, not a joke. Just my impossibly clever wit.”
A laugh erupts from her. Warmth floods. Love. Safety. Something akin to joy. What would she do without Lewis? How, in the past, had she ever left him? Cleo pushes down the urge to pin him to the bed and smother him in kisses, to pull a laugh from him herself. His laugh was sunlight made sound. Warmth in a cold room. Light in the dark. She could listen to his laugh forever, she thinks. She could load it onto her purple iPod and walk to school listening to it.
Then. Silence. It stretches between them, just as one minute stretches into the next. Her dad, Don, would be home soon. Any minute, actually. Cleo knows this just as well as Lewis does.
“Don’t go,” she says. “Please stay tonight.”
Lewis’s face softens. Cleo can tell he’s trying not to frown — but his brows are furrowed. A tell she knows by heart.
“Cleo…” he starts.
It’s a bold ask, Cleo knows. They’ve cuddled like this before, sure, but they’ve never shared a bed. Not like this. Definitely not for a full night. And her dad…
But the thought of Lewis leaving sends a bolt of terror up her spine. The thought of reliving today in a nightmare, waking up alone, in the dark, being strangled by sheets —
“I always wake up when gets in,” she says quickly, half-begging. “I’ll lock my door tonight. And if he knocks, or Kim, you can hide in the closet while I get rid of them. Dad doesn’t come in without knocking anymore— Not since I turned seventeen. Please, Lewis. I can’t— Not tonight.”
Her desperation feels like a low blow despite the unintention. It’s a rare thing he refuses her. Tonight, God-willing, will be no different.
“C’mere,” Lewis says, gathering her back in his arms.
His touch, being back in his embrace, soothes her frayed nervous system. Cleo nearly shudders in relief when she hears the rhythm of his heart again. Something inside her unclenches. A knot she hadn’t realized she’d been holding tight.
“I’ll stay,” Lewis says. “I’ll sneak downstairs before your dad gets up. I’ll even open and shut your front door to make it sound like I’m coming inside.”
If Cleo were standing, the relief would’ve driven her to her knees.
“Thank you,” she whispers, almost reverent. “Thank you, Lewis.”
Lewis presses a kiss to her forehead. “Anything, anytime.”
They settle into bed and sleep.
###
She doesn’t want to wake him. She doesn’t want this serene, picture-perfect moment to end. It isn’t often she has the privilege of seeing Lewis like this — his face slack with peace, unburdened by the weight of the world he carries. Cleo is overtaken by the urge to touch his cheek, to press a soft kiss to his forehead. She could. But —
He’ll wake. The solid weight and scorching heat of his body against hers will vanish the moment he stirs, sits up, pulls away. His presence will leave her bed. And isn’t this what she’s always wanted? To wake up next to Lewis? She’s imagined it more times than she can count, but never like this — never in the quiet aftermath of disaster, clinging to comfort instead of indulging in romance.
Lewis shifts in his sleep, rolling onto his back. Cleo watches him, mesmerized. Morning light slips through the curtains and spills gold across his face, softening everything. It catches on the freckles that sit on the bridge of his nose and the faint scar under his left temple, turning each small detail into something tender. Holy, even. Iconography of the new St. Jude. Something in her chest tightens. Something low in her belly burns. She pointedly ignores the desire pulsing through her.
Cleo loves him so fiercely it frightens her. It feels too big for her chest, too bright for the room, too much for a morning like this. She wishes she were brave enough to tell him.
What, she wonders, wouldn’t she do for him? What wouldn’t she do to keep him right here next to her?
“CLEO!” Kim shrieks, ripping Cleo from her pondering. Sharp pain spikes through her chest— Her body goes tense— “Dad wants to know what you want for breakfast!”
Lewis’s eyes snap open. He bolts upright, rigid, blankets pooling at his waist.
“Eggs are fine, Kimmy!” Cleo calls back, voice pitching high. “I’ll be down in a minute! Just— ah— doing my morning stretches!”
Another day. Another lie. She doesn’t have time to indulge in that particular point of guilt right now.
Kim scoffs. “Well, don’t hurt yourself! I’m not missing Jenny’s party because we had to take you to hospital!”
Cleo exhales in relief as Kim’s footsteps retreat down the stairs. Slowly, her body relaxes.
“I’m so sorry, Lewis,” She says quickly. “I — I always wake up when Dad gets home. I—”
I’ve never slept that soundly before, She doesn’t say.
“It’s okay,” Lewis says, and it sounds like he means it. Cleo chooses to believe so. “I can— ugh— I’ll just go out the window and climb down.”
Cleo nods. That’s — okay. That will work. She’s done it before too, way back when. The memory flickers nostalgic and warm: sneaking out to help nurse Ronnie back to health, even if it meant a wild week where everyone insisted she and Zane Bennett were secretly together.
And then the ineventiable comes. Lewis gives her a kiss, lingering and sweet, before sliding out of her bed. His warmth evaporates in an instant, leaving her cold. He starts gathering his things, and some small, childish part of her wants to cry. The fear from last night still clings to her, heavy and dark. What if the ocean attacked again? What if, this time, she was next? What if she was alone when it happened? What if Rikki was… again? Or — oh, what’s her name? The other mermaid? Bella. What if Bella is taken too? They know so little about her. Or does the sea only become sentient and violent when the moon is full?
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she hears herself say.
Lewis turns look at her, expression soft. “I know. I’d stay if I could. But your dad. . . If he finds me up here, he’ll never let me back over. Like, ever.”
Cleo nods. Lewis is right, unfortunately so.
“I’m going to run home,” he continues. “Shower and change, then I’ll come back over. I won’t be gone long. I promise.”
She smiles weakly.
“Thank you,” she says.
Lewis kisses her again, bids her goodbye, then disappears out the window. Once she knows he’s gone, Cleo closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and braces herself for the day ahead.