Page 32 of Bewitched By the Siren (The Bewitching Hour #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Hali

I swipe on a couple of coats of mascara, then sit back in my chair to stare at my reflection. The crowd outside my dressing room door is getting louder by the minute, but the electricity I normally experience on a Friday night at Memaw’s feels more like crippling anxiety.

I thought I’d never do this again. Hell, I thought I’d be living in a different part of the country, some obscure piece of coastline where no one knows anything about me.

But here I am, getting ready to go on stage for my regular Friday night gig.

Mom and I took Brendan’s advice last weekend and called the police to report my stalker.

Harvey Wayne Sheridan was picked up and arrested fourteen hours later.

And just like Brendan predicted, he ranted and raved, accused me of being a siren and telling them all they needed to do was throw me in the ocean to get their proof.

So, yeah, he was quickly assessed by a court-appointed psychiatrist and committed to a mental health facility in Savannah until he’s found fit to be arraigned for stalking, assault, and harassment.

The local news outlets have been having a field day with the story, but thanks to a gag order, my name has been kept out of it. “The Mermaid of Circe Key” has already become a local legend, but thankfully, no one has connected the dots to me.

It doesn’t make sense, really. I mean, Harvey fingered me as the siren in this very bar a week ago. But it’s like no one who was here heard him. Not a single person has come forward to get their own fifteen minutes of fame when they could get it instantly by naming me as the supposed mermaid.

It’s weird.

Even weirder, I have no idea how or why Harvey zeroed in on me in the first place. How did he know to watch me? Did he spot me during my last night swim? Watch me as I beached myself and dried my tail from some nearby hiding spot?

I don’t know, and I probably never will. It’s not like I’m going to visit him in Savannah to find out, or anything.

I grip the shell pendant at my chest as thoughts of my stalker slip away and memories of Brendan drift in. I haven’t heard a word from him all week. He’s well and truly gone . Sadness floods through me at the idea of what might’ve been.

Brendan took the time to really get to know me last week, and I him. I really liked him, and I think he liked me, too. At least, the half of me I let him see.

Then, with a splash of sea water, he saw my other half in all its glory. And then he ran. I don’t blame him. I really don’t. But the hell of it all is that he obviously hasn’t told anyone what he saw. If he had…

Yeah. Things would be much different for me.

But his silence is a double-edged sword.

Sure, it’s a wonderful relief that he’s kept my secret.

I’ll be forever grateful. But at the same time, that silence proves I can trust him.

That he could be part of my life, another person who knows the real me and cares for me in spite of it all.

That because of him and his integrity, I wouldn’t face a future alone.

That’s what I lost when he drove away. A chance for a real friendship. A partnership. And someday, maybe even true love.

I blink back the tears welling in my eyes at the thought.

I can lie to everyone else, but I can’t lie to myself.

I was already well on my way to falling for Brendan, and his leaving broke my heart.

I can try to deny it all I want. Try to convince myself that a week isn’t long enough to fall for someone.

But the fractures in my heart taunt me for lying whenever I try to convince myself of it.

I shake my head and blow out a long breath. Enough of this. The show must go on, right?

Sliding my hands up to the back of my neck, I unclasp my necklace as I rise from my chair. Balling the chain and pendant in my fist, I push the necklace into the front pocket of my jeans before adjusting the off-the-shoulder neckline of my slouchy sweater.

“Showtime,” I whisper to my reflection.

The crowd cheers as I exit the storage room, and their excitement dulls the razor-sharp edge of my nerves. Despite the deception and my guilt over using my siren song to earn tips, this truly is my happy place.

I hop up onto the stage with my band, grinning at the crowd as electricity zips through my veins. I greet the crowd, then recite my usual spiel about putting all their devices away. Once everyone complies, the band starts playing, and all my problems, fears, and regrets slip away for the next hour.

I sing through my whole playlist, and the crowd’s on fire tonight. The sparks set me ablaze, too, and by the time I’m done, adrenaline pulses through me. I thank the crowd, remind them to tip their waitresses, then escape the stage to the privacy of my dressing room.

I barely close the door behind me when there’s a knock from the other side.

I tilt my head back and close my eyes. This happens sometimes, fans following me back here just to meet me and get a selfie or an autograph.

I never let anyone take my picture, of course, but I also don’t like to be rude and ignore their efforts.

Taking a deep breath and pasting on a smile, I swing open the door, then freeze. I pair of familiar blue eyes greet mine above a smile that’s etched into my soul.

“Brendan,” I breathe.

“Can we talk?” he asks, and I nod before stepping aside so he can join me in the tiny room. Before I can speak a word, he adds, “Where is your necklace?”

My eyes widen––I’m sure to a comical degree––as I tug the chain from my pocket and hold it up between us.

Somehow, Brendan has worked out exactly what the piece of jewelry is and what purpose it serves.

Taking it from me, he motions for me to spin around.

When I comply, he lifts my hair and drapes it over my shoulder before gently clasping the chain around my neck.

I turn back around to face him, and he stares at the seashell for several long beats before lifting his gaze to meet mine.

“I’m so sorry I ran away.”

“I don’t blame you,” I whisper, my gaze dropping to the floor between us.

“I was just…in shock,” he whispers back, placing a knuckle beneath my chin and lifting until I meet his eyes.

“That’s understandable,” I say, then swallow thickly. “I wanted to tell you the truth.”

He shakes his head. “You barely knew me. That’s not something you share with someone you’ve only known for a few days.”

“But––”

“Hali,” he cuts in, “you have nothing to apologize for. Please, just let me get this out.”

“Okay,” I breathe.

“When I came here two weeks ago, my mission was simple. Watch your performance, get a recording for my boss, and if we agreed you were as good as we’d heard, get you to sign with the Bray Agency. That’s it.”

I nod without speaking, and his lips curl up into a ghost of a smile.

“Within a few minutes of meeting you, I knew I wasn’t going to get the job done.

I knew you’d never sign, and hell, after finding out why you didn’t want that, I didn’t want it for you, either.

Not really. But I stayed, convincing my boss and myself, that I was still working on you.

That I could find a way for it to work out.

But my staying here had nothing to do with my job. ”

“It didn’t?” I ask quietly when his words pause.

“No,” he says, his smile widening. “It was all you. The more time I spent with you, the more I wanted to be around you. You made me feel whole in a way that my job, my whole life in Los Angeles never had. Just being in your presence felt like a dip in the freezing ocean. Invigorating. Refreshing. Cleansing and electrifying. I couldn’t get enough. ”

“I’m not human, Brendan,” I whisper brokenly, feeling some strange urge to remind him before he says anything more.

“Oh, I know,” he says with a harsh chuckle. “I got an up close and personal look at exactly what you are. But Hali, what you are doesn’t define who you are.”

He’s using all the right words, but I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that he sounds… unbothered by what I am. Like it doesn’t matter to him. But, how can it not?

“Brendan,” I breathe, and he shakes his head to cut off whatever argument I’m about to make.

“Hali,” he whispers, then clears his throat. “You are an amazing person. I’m…I’m falling for you.”

“But––”

“But we’ll figure the rest out, later. It doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that?” I ask, then lower my voice to add, “I’m a mermaid . It matters.”

“Your mom loves you,” he says, and the change in direction makes me a bit dizzy.

“Yeah. She’s my mom. Of course, she does.”

“You told me she adopted you,” he says slowly.

My eyes fall closed, and when I open them and meet his gaze, it’s filled with warmth and understanding. He knows the “adoption” story I gave him wasn’t the whole truth.

“She found me washed up on the beach when I was little,” I say.

“So, she knows,” he says.

“Yes.”

“And she loves you. Anyone can see how devoted she is to you, Hali. Why would you think someone else couldn’t love you, too?"

“It’s not the same,” I murmur, but a tiny spark of hope ignites in my chest as my pulse spikes.

Could this be real? I resigned myself to being alone, forever, a long time ago. I never allowed my mind to imagine I could find someone to trust, someone who’d learn the truth about me and love me in spite of my true nature.

“Hali,” Brendan breathes, and my eyes snap up to meet his. “Please believe me. Believe in me. In us .”

“I don’t…” I start, but the words trail off as I search his eyes. “You really want to be with me? To give this a shot?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, then nods. “I quit my job.”

“What?”

He nods. “I quit my job and sold my condo in L.A.”

“What?” I repeat, my mouth unable to form any other word.

His chest heaves as he stares at me, breathing harshly through his open mouth. “My place wasn’t even on the market for twelve hours before I had an offer. It’s done. I’ve cut ties with Los Angeles. With my old life.”

“Brendan,” I whisper.

“And it’s not only about you,” he says before I can say anything else.

“I fell in love with this island, and when I went back to L.A., it didn’t feel like home, anymore.

The air was too thin. Too dry. I couldn’t breathe.

I missed my little place on the beach, and I missed my neighbors.

So, the minute my condo sold, I put in an over-market offer on the rental house––which was immediately accepted––packed up my things, and left without a backward glance. ”

“You moved here?” I ask, the synapses in my brain all misfiring at once.

“Yeah,” he says, his lips curving up. “I live here. Right next door to my favorite person.”

My facial muscles tighten, and I can’t stop the smile that curves my lips. Brendan exhales harshly when he sees it, then mirrors my expression.

“Does that smile mean you’ll give us a shot? That we can see where this thing between us goes?”

“Yes.”

Brendan lets out a little whoop and scoops me up into his arms. I laugh as he swings me around, but the sound dies when he sets me on my feet and stares down at me with glittering eyes.

“Put me out of my misery, Hali,” he murmurs. “Kiss me. Please.”

Pushing up onto my tiptoes without pause, I press my lips to his. Fireworks explode behind my eyelids as a missing piece of some cosmic puzzle snaps into place somewhere in my chest. I don’t know if this is forever, but it feels like it might be.

Like Brendan Howser is my person, and I’m his. Like we were meant to find each other.

Like we were meant to be.