"I'm not changing the name of the answering machine message," Cora says.
"I know."
"It still says San Pedro Eco-Tours."
"That's fine. It's still true."
She looks at me sideways. "You're very reasonable about this."
"I've been working on it."
She makes a sound that's half laugh and half something warmer, and leans into my shoulder. Sali ties off the seaweed braid with a small satisfied sound. The lake below the dock is very blue and very still.
Sirena & Co.
An ordinary day in the middle of the week.
CHAPTER 13
CORA
Rex comesto find me at noon.
I see him from the Snack Hut window first. The travel bag sitting beside him on the dock steps, canvas and well-worn, the kind that's been to actual places rather than just closets. He's sitting on the top step in the sun with his long legs stretched out and his arms resting on his knees, looking at the lake.
My chest does something complicated.
He's been my anchor all summer. Hell, for the past several years. The safe harbor while I processed Muir's departure and return, while I figured out what was real and what was four years of unfinished longing. He held the space for me to be a mess without requiring me to explain it.
He threatened Muir with bodily harm and then invited him to dinner. He's been exactly what I needed, which is family without blood relation, and now he's leaving.
I come out of the Snack Hut. He looks up.
He's wearing his good shirt. The navy one he keeps at the back of his wardrobe for occasions. His dark hair is combed again, which is two days in a row now and statistically significant. The morning light catches the hint of fang when he smiles.
I look at the bag.
"You're going," I say.
He lifts his hand to his chest, pressing it there like he's checking for something. His fingers spread across his ribs, and he holds it for a moment before dropping his arm.
"Toward warmer water," he says. "The islands. Been thinking about it for a while."
"Hawai'i?" I ask. I hadn't been for ten years now. We were kids growing up there, and the thought of carefree summers running around makes me sigh in longing for those days.
"Going back for the breaks," he confirms. He stands, unhurried, and puts his hands in his pockets—but not before I catch him rubbing his sternum again, that same unconscious gesture. "Long enough since I've been back. Long enough to see my family. They've been asking about me. About you, too."
"They love you, Cor. You know that." His voice is easy, matter-of-fact. "You're welcome anytime. Bring Muir if you want. When you want. They'd like to meet him."
Something in my throat tightens. "Rex."
I recognize it because I know that feeling. That pull from the water, from home. The way it lives in your chest like a second heartbeat, insistent and undeniable. The way you can't ignore it even when you want to stay.
"I was here because you needed someone steady," he says. "And I'm glad I could be that." He pauses. "But this—us—that's real. That's family. Doesn't change because I'm following the water home."
"I know," I say quietly.
"You're ready for him now. And I'm ready to go where I'm called." He shifts his weight. "Both of us following what we need to follow."