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Lachlan

I don’t know why I keep doing this. For years, it’s been clear that there is nothing left of the man I knew as my da living in the beast that shares the loch with me, and yet every so often, I can’t help but try to prove myself wrong. Tonight is no different; in the form of the beast, my senses are higher, so I can feel when he’s near. He likes to keep to a shelf in the deeper part of the loch, and I can usually find him resting there when he isn’t hunting for fish.

I’m always met with hostility.

We can’t speak, not like this, but there’s still a line of communication between us. A language that I instinctively understand, but one that he doesn’t seem to fully grasp. The voice of the beast is low and mournful, and when I call out to him from a safe distance, projecting everything I’m hoping for in my question—his answering cries are full of disjointed impressions ofSTAY AWAYandENEMY.As if he really is nothing more than a beast defending his territory.

I wonder if it’s near time to accept that Callum Greer is really gone.

It’s dark tonight, the cloud cover blotting out most of the stars, so I feel safe in going to the surface. Da’s territory is in the deepest partof the loch, after all, miles away from shore. It would be almost impossible to spot anything out here evenifsome passersby were walking along the shore tonight. I just need the air. I need to breathe it in and remember that I’m not lost yet.

I can sense my da lurking some distance away, no doubt hovering to see if I’ll come any closer. If he needs to defend his home. I have old scars from similar encounters, and knowing that my father has made me bleed on more than one occasion is disheartening to say the least. I often have to remind myself that it’s not him, not really.

I truly don’t know why I sought him out tonight; I haven’t for quite some time. Maybe it’s because I feel the weight of it all more heavily tonight. After touching Key earlier, feeling her complete acceptance of me, her ironclad certainty that she’ll somehow free me of this—I suppose it got me wondering whether or not freedom for me would mean freedom for my da as well. If the curse can be broken, will he come back to us? Or is it too late for him?

I fear the alternative rings truer, but it’s painful to even try to accept. I’ve been without him for more years than I had him, but something about my growing feelings for Keyanna make it hurt worse somehow. I think about a future where I might live a normal life, where I might make her mine,reallymine, ring and all—one where we might have weans of our own. Ones he’ll never meet.

It’s bloody heartbreaking, is what it is.

But I suppose I should be used to that feeling.

Thoughts of Key make things both better and worse; I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the things I’ve yet to tell her. Part of me has been too much of a coward, afraid that things will be different if she knows everything, but given the realization that my feelings are far deeper for her than I ever thought they could be—I don’t thinkI have a choice, really. Curse or no curse, I know that there is no future together that is based on dishonesty. Key has been nothing but open with me, and she deserves the same courtesy.

The clouds part over the loch, revealing a sliver of moonlight, a peek of stars. It hits me then that I haven’t seen the stars as a man, not once; I wonder if they might look different. I think if we manage to break the curse—the first thing I’ll do is walk under them with Key. It’s a good enough start to a to-do list, I think.

MINE

AWAY

ATTACK

I turn just before I feel him approach, my distracted train of thought meaning I hadn’t noticed when he got closer. I dart away just as my da lunges from below, his powerful jaws snapping at the air when he emerges from the depths. With the moonlight pouring down on his mossy green skin, his eyes seem to glow with a burning wildness that doesn’t look even remotely human. He stays still where he is, drifting on the surface as he projects more violent urgings—mostly of the variety that I leave his territory—and instead of sadness, a creeping numbness seems to take over. One that comes from realizing that there’s nothing for me here. That there may never be.

I lower my head in a clear gesture of submission, slowly swimming backward as I maneuver my large body farther away from the area, heading for the channel that leads to the cove where I left my clothes. I feel his presence behind me for a long while, and when it finally fades, I tell myself that it will be all right. That even if it’s too late for him, he would be happy knowing that it might not be too late for me. I know my da well enough to know that, at least.

I swim for the shore with new resolve, telling myself that it’s not over for me, not yet. Tomorrow, I will tell Keyanna everything thatshe still doesn’t know, and after I’ve begged her forgiveness for keeping it from her, we’ll find the answer together. I allow myself to believe that, sharing in Key’s fierce determination and praying it isn’t unfounded. Because I think I know now that behind me lies my past, but ahead…there might still be a future.

The farm is uncharacteristically quiet when I reach it the next morning; the cows aren’t braying their usual morning demands for breakfast, the chickens are silent, and even the main house is dark. I check the cottage to find it empty, frowning while wondering if Key let Finlay get her drunk again. The thought morphs my frown into a slight grin. I’d like to see that someday.

I’m about to knock on the main door of the house when Rhona opens it to my raised fist, pursing her lips at me. “Looking for something?”

“I was…” This woman is a foot shorter than me, and somehow still intimidates the hell out of me. “I was just looking for Key.”

“Course you were,” she answers with a snort. She cocks a brow, looking up at me. “You doing what I said? Are you being good to her?”

I nod immediately, hoping that I am. “As best I can.”

“Good.” She moves to the side. “She’s still in bed. Finlay roped her into another game of cards after dinner.”

I have to school my mouth not to lift at the corners. “Thank you.”

“No funny business in my house,” she calls after me as I move past her.

I raise a hand as if in assent, but truthfully, I can’t make any promises.

I find Key sprawled over her tiny bed, her hair a wild mess ofcurls that cover her face and one of her arms hanging over the side of the mattress. A smile touches my lips; there’s a sadness there too, one that comes from knowing I can’t wake up with her like I wish I could, but I shove it down, locking her bedroom door instead. Maybe alittlefunny business would go unnoticed.