Page 35 of Goldilocks (Salt and Starlight #2)

The main street bustled with activity as Sam pulled into the parking spot behind Ivan and Eric’s flat. It was closer to lunch than breakfast, and he cringed to think about Roan waiting in the room, bored out of his mind. He’d wanted to return earlier, but Adonis had thrown an entire fit about Connor leaving without him. He’d beached himself on the shore and then played dead, refusing to acknowledge Connor telling him to get back into the ocean.

It took Trevor walking down to the shore and telling Connor how Adonis’s arms were too weak to get himself off the beach for Adonis to furiously prove Trevor wrong.

“I’m going to check out the bookstore and say hi to Marty,” Connor said as he climbed out of the car. “I think I’m close enough to help from there. If not, just come get me.”

“Do you know why you being nearby makes a difference?” Sam asked. He didn’t want to pry since he knew what had been done to Connor without his consent or knowledge for years wasn’t a comfortable topic of conversation.

Connor glanced at Eric’s flat. He watched it for a thoughtful minute. “I can feel where Goldilocks is right now. I can always tell.” Connor inclined his head toward Sam. “I can always feel you out there too. And I can feel when you go through The Tear.”

Sam blinked, surprised. “I thought Adonis was the one leading you to me.”

“At first he was,” Connor acknowledged. “It’s been me for a few months now. I can find Trevor and Laurence easily too. Nick most of the time, but not always. Not when he’s pissed off with me over something.”

Sam thought about it. That was ‘other’, but it wasn’t the first time there had been otherness about Connor. Sam studied him, taking in the clear grey of his eyes. His wind-burnt cheeks and the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, the plain blue T-shirt that Sam would bet his life on Trevor having bought him. He was a guy, the same as he’d always been. “Roan called you ‘monarch’.”

Connor’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a new one.”

“They all obey you,” Sam added.

Connor shrugged. “Cause I’ll set Adonis on them if they don’t.”

It was a gentle deflection. Sam knew Adonis had nothing to do with the way the mermen treated Connor, and Connor did too. But even if Connor knew that he was different, that there was more going on beneath the surface, that didn’t mean he needed to worry about it. Sam wasn’t going to pressure him. “I’m going to go up. Thanks again for this.”

“Anytime.”

Sam climbed the concrete steps leading to the upstairs apartment. The bottom floor of the building was a closed-down shop, one that changed hands every other summer as someone new came in to give their own try at managing a business. Given the seasonal nature of the area, several businesses opened for the summer months and then closed for the off-season.

Sam knocked as he opened the door. “Just me,” he called.

He smelled flour and sweet maple syrup, and stepping into the flat, he saw a pan on the stove and a clear plastic tub of batter next to it. “You making pancakes?” Sam asked. He entered the living room and stopped dead.

Ivan and Eric were sitting on one couch together, two plates of half-eaten pancakes on their laps. Roan was on the other couch. A plate resting on his tail, the golden limb stretched out, dominating the space between him and the TV. Someone had thoughtfully moved the coffee table out of the way to make room.

Sam stared dumbstruck at Roan, who turned to frown at him.

“You were gone many hours,” Roan said, displeasure clear in his voice.

“I—” Sam shut his mouth. Opened it again. “I.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Ivan said.

Sam tore his gaze from Roan to stare, not at Ivan, but at Eric. Eric was merely sitting there with a small frown, not much in his expression for Sam to read.

“Goldilocks made us help him out here so he could watch TV,” Ivan said. His eyes were overly bright, his mouth had a twitch like he was fighting a smile. “He was bored waiting in the room for you.”

Sam couldn’t move his mouth.

Eric put his plate down and stood. “Pan’s still hot. I’ll make you some pancakes.”

Numbly, Sam sat next to Roan. Ivan was giving him unsubtle side-eye, and Sam’s mind was stalling out. Roan was looking at him too, though he wasn’t trying to be subtle about it. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Uh. Guys?” Sam’s mind started to run again. “You can’t tell anyone about Roan.”

“Who’d even believe us?” Ivan asked jovially.

The couch was coarse against Sam’s fingers as he squeezed the cushion. His behind was sore to sit on, and his face was overly warm. Roan leaned over to set his plate on the coffee table, and as he leaned back, he shifted, tail becoming legs. Sam snatched the throw blanket from the back of the couch and covered Roan’s lap so that Ivan didn’t catch a single glimpse of his privates.

There was a metallic ting as Ivan’s fork fell from between his fingers and struck the plate. His eyes widened. “Christ,” Ivan muttered. He stared, and Sam tried his best to read his expression. It wasn’t fear. He guessed wonder, perhaps awe? Or perhaps total shock.

Eric re-entered the living room with a plate full of pancakes drowned in maple syrup. As he offered the plate, Sam tried to read his expression. Like with Ivan, he saw no fear, but there was worry. Was that a glimmer of stress Sam could see? Or perhaps a mental breakdown approaching on swift winds?

Eric sat next to Ivan, his gaze crawling over Roan before he angled his head toward Ivan. Almost as if his reaction depended upon Ivan’s. Ivan offered Eric what looked to Sam like a reassuring smile.

“So,” Eric slowly began. “Your boyfriend is a mermaid?”

“Merman,” Sam corrected.

Another long silence stretched. In it, Sam worriedly studied Eric and Ivan, his thoughts erratic, branching, until finally, it all settled with a calm exhale. He didn’t know either of them that well, but he’d seen enough, hadn’t he? Enough to know that neither man would do anything to harm Sam. Enough to know that Eric loved him, and Ivan loved Eric, so he would follow his lead.

“I, uh, hadn’t realised he was going to show you his other side. You probably got a big surprise.” Sam picked up the cutlery and cut a bite out of his pancakes.

“Surprise is right,” Ivan said. “Didn’t expect to start my day being woken by a demanding fantasy being, did I? I’ve done a few tattoos of mermaids before, never done a merman, though.”

Eric watched as Sam took in a forkful of pancake and chewed.

“Yeah,” Eric finally agreed. “It was a surprise. Um…how long has this been going on? Six months, right? Goldilocks, you said that’s how long you’ve been dating yesterday?” Eric had a puzzled look as he spoke.

Roan nodded. “We are now permanent mates.” He huffed, angling his chin so that the bite on his neck was on display.

Sam’s worry morphed into embarrassment as Eric and Ivan both looked right at the mark. “Roan,” Sam objected. “You shouldn’t – are we done with the conversation now?” He didn’t want his brother, of all people, to be looking at a love bite he’d given his boyfriend.

“Permanent mates as in…married?” Ivan questioned.

“Yes,” Roan said as Sam said, “I guess?”

Roan’s gaze swept to Sam, and before Roan could come out with anything embarrassing, Sam nudged him, pleading with his eyes to end this torture. Sam couldn’t handle anything explicit being spoken about in front of others, never mind his sibling.

Roan leaned in, rubbing his cheek against Sam’s. “Yes,” he repeated.

“I got it,” Sam murmured back quietly.

Eric and Ivan mercifully made no comment on the mark.

“So…we should probably talk living arrangements,” Eric said. Ivan snorted in amusement, giving Eric a look that said ‘You’re changing the topic that fast?’ “And you snuck out on me this morning, but you’re not meant to be driving yet. I can bring you to your college classes until you get the all-clear from the doctor.”

Sam’s classes. His course that he signed up for to prove that he could get in. His course that he did just to prove that he could, and to prove that he was capable of academics if he put his mind to it.

His course that he hated every second of every minute simply thinking about.

Sam’s idea of his life and where it would go was simple: he’d fish. He’d maintain the boat. He’d look after his dad. And while doing that, he’d further his education and prove to the whole world that ‘poor fisherman’ didn’t equal ‘stupid.’

And who exactly was he trying to prove that to? Maybe to start it was himself, and it was those bullies in school and even his teachers who never seemed to expect much of him. Or maybe it was his aunts and uncles who’d watched him from a distance as he’d followed in his father’s footsteps while every other cousin went off to college. If Sam didn’t act, he’d be left behind. And he’d been chasing after this idea of what he wanted for so long, that he’d been ignoring the simple truth that his idea of what he wanted was very far from what he actually liked doing. Sam didn’t want to be left behind, but was the place he wanted to go instead the same direction as everyone else?

If Sam wasn’t in college, where would he be instead? His gaze moved to the window, where he could see the glimmer of the ocean through a gap in the buildings.

“I think I’ll defer,” Sam said.

Eric had been in the middle of talking about finding work down here.

“For the rest of the year?” Eric asked.

“Either that or drop out.” Sam put his empty breakfast plate on the coffee table. “I don’t really like it. Writing essays is the most boring thing in the world and I fall asleep in class half the time. Even before my dyslexia got worse, it was a huge pain in the ass.”

“If you don’t like the course, then you don’t need to do it,” Eric said it as if it were no big deal at all that Sam wanted to drop out. There was no judgement in his expression, not even a trace of it. “I didn’t realise that you had dyslexia…I know first-hand how much harder reading difficulties can make everything. Think it over, of course, and see if that’s how you really feel and it’s not just exams that are stressing you out, but I don’t see the point in dedicating years of your life to something you don’t like even slightly.”

“Keep in mind this advice is coming from a secondary-school dropout,” Ivan butted in.

Eric elbowed him none too gently. “You didn’t finish secondary school either.”

“I did my QQI level 4 in Youthreach, though,” Ivan pointed out. “And I did a QQI level 6 for business and accounting so I could figure out how to run my shop.”

“ I run your shop,” Eric said with a pointed frown.

“You did,” Ivan said. There was nothing sharp in Ivan’s tone of voice, and there were a million complicated things in Eric’s expression as he looked at Ivan.

Sam could read the tormented indecision on Eric’s face loud and clear. “You don’t need to move out here, Eric,” he said, as gently as he could. He didn’t want Eric to think he didn’t want that or that he didn’t want to get the chance to know him better. But he could see that the choice was costing Eric. “You’re settled down in the city with a job and obligations, and a life.”

Eric’s gaze moved to Sam, and the indecision eased away. He offered a wobbly smile. “I want to come back,” he said. “Ivan can tell you. I haven’t had one good night’s sleep since I went home, and I know that’s not going to change. And Sam…” His brows pinched together. “I’ve wanted to come back for years. I missed you so much. I was just afraid. Afraid that I’d end up falling back into old patterns. That I’d end up small and angry all over again.”

If Ivan was upset to hear that Eric was choosing Sam over him, it didn’t show on his face. Sam didn’t shrug Eric off again, and his brother’s earnest tone tugged at his heart. Eric had made his decision, and Sam would respect it. “I can’t promise I won’t make you angry if you move back,” he said, keeping his tone light.

The tension eased from Eric’s expression until the corners of his mouth were tipping up. “I’d expect nothing less.”

“Less aggression when it comes to letting Eric see your old man would be nice,” Ivan butted in.

“Ivan,” Eric scolded.

“He’s your dad too.”

“I have to introduce Roan to him.” Sam ignored Ivan.

Eric swallowed audibly; talking about their dad already had him on edge. Without even glancing at Eric, Ivan put a hand on his knee and squeezed. “Do mermen need to ask for the parents’ approval to date?” Ivan asked.

“I don’t need anyone’s approval for anything,” Roan answered. “Least of all, anyone’s permission to be with my mate.”

Ivan laughed, and Sam repressed a groan. He tilted sideways so his cheek touched Roan’s bare shoulder. “If anyone asks that, just say my dad approves. He’ll like you.”

“How do you know?” Eric seemed genuinely curious.

“Dad likes everyone,” Sam answered. “I’m sure he was even nice to Ivan when he stopped by.”

“You know, despite what you keep implying, I’m a very well-liked guy,” Ivan said pointedly.

In spite of the way Ivan kept managing to strike every nerve in Sam’s body with skilled precision, Sam could picture Ivan being popular very easily. Given his quick read of people and his tendency to smooth things out, Sam bet many people liked spending time with Ivan. Sam bet he made it easy for them.

Sam met Ivan’s eyes. He could also see Ivan subtly getting people on his side. Needling so that they would agree with certain implications and gentle accusations, which, at their core, weren’t so gentle at all.

“You don’t need to look at me as if I stole Eric away from you,” Ivan huffed.

It was the other way around, wasn’t it? Sam wasn’t so mean as to point that out.

Sam averted his eyes, letting his attention sway to Roan. “We have to go back to the ocean. Dad’s at Aunt Mal’s house.” Eric knew where his dad was already, but that wasn’t what Sam was saying.

“Oh,” Eric said, realising immediately.

Sam expected anxiety to fill him and was surprised when it didn’t. He could see that Eric was nervous about meeting their dad again. There was anxiety and maybe a bit of fear, the same way he’d felt about the boat when he’d seen it again. But Sam wasn’t afraid of Eric hurting the boat by being anxious around it, and he wasn’t actually afraid of Eric meeting their dad either. If anything, Sam suspected Eric would come out the other side of the meeting with hurt feelings rather than Oisín.

“His memory is bad,” Sam said, gentling his voice. “I don’t want you to be upset if he doesn’t remember you.” Sam was certain that he didn’t. He never talked about Eric. Even before his dementia had worsened, even before Sam realised there was something wrong with his dad, there had been no ‘Eric’ in the house.

“I know,” Eric admitted. “But even if he doesn’t remember me, I still would like to see him. The way I left things…I have a lot to apologise for.”

“Not really,” Sam disagreed. “It’s not as if you stole Dad’s car and took off.” And at fifteen, it wasn’t Eric’s responsibility to look out for anyone but himself.