Page 15 of Siren Problems

LUNA

T he first thing I register when I wake up is the cold.

Not the temperature—though yeah, the shack’s drafty as hell—but the kind of cold that seeps into your chest when you reach for someone and find nothing.

I sit up slowly, blanket tangled around my hips, hair a mess, thighs still sore in the best kind of way.

And Calder’s gone.

The other side of the mattress is cool.

Untouched.

Like he vanished hours ago.

No note. No noise. Just air.

Goddammit.

I rub my face, heart sinking faster than a ley anchor.

I don’t panic. I don’t cry.

I’ve done this before—opened up, cracked a door, thought maybe, maybe someone would stay.

Spoiler: They never do.

I pull on my shirt and jeans with robotic efficiency, my fingers moving faster than my thoughts. Because if I start thinking about how he held me last night... or the way his voice almost trembled when I touched his face...

I won’t be able to breathe.

So instead, I throw my hair into a bun, jam my feet into my boots, and walk out into the morning like I’m not bleeding from the inside out.

Back at the lab, Mira takes one look at me and tosses a croissant in my general direction.

“You look like heartbreak and bad decisions.”

“Good morning to you too,” I mutter, catching the pastry one-handed.

She raises an eyebrow. “Did he bail?”

“Of course he bailed.”

Kai snorts from the corner. “He left after sex? Wow. That’s almost vintage toxic masculinity. Is he gonna turn into seafoam next?”

“No,” I say tightly, taking a huge bite of flaky carbs to avoid screaming. “He’s gonna turn into a ghost with great cheekbones and a martyr complex.”

Mira winces. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” I say. “I’m burying it under science. Like a professional. ”

And that’s exactly what I do.

For the next six hours.

I dig into the binding seal we found in the wreck. I cross-reference ley resonance maps with enchantment signatures from ancient siren scripts. I translate the spiral glyph again, even though I’ve memorized it.

Every time I start to feel something—his touch, his voice, the way he whispered my name like it meant something—I push harder.

I lose track of time. Of food. Of everything.

At some point, Mira quietly places a bottle of water on my desk and backs away like I’m a sleep-deprived velociraptor.

She’s not wrong.

But I need this.

Because if I can figure this out—if I can solve the curse, if I can rip it up by the roots and prove that magic doesn’t have to win—maybe he’ll stop running.

Maybe I’ll stop drowning every time he disappears.

Kai eventually slinks in around sundown, sipping something neon and vaguely illegal-looking.

“You’re spiraling,” she says.

“I’m analyzing.”

“You’re obsessing. ”

I don’t answer.

Because she’s right.

Because Calder cracked something open in me, and now I don’t know how to close it.

And the worst part?

I don’t want to.

I want him back.

I want last night again.

Not just the sex. Not even just the magic.

I want the version of him who held me like I was holy.

The version who let me see the man behind the monster.

But instead, I have this void where he should be.

And all I can do is work around it.

Try not to fall in.

“Okay,” Kai says, hopping up onto my desk like it’s not covered in half-deciphered glyphs and magical debris, “I’m gonna say something, and you’re not allowed to throw anything at me.”

I squint at her. “If it starts with ‘I told you so,’ I reserve the right to throw something small .”

She holds up her hands. “Fine. No ‘I told you so.’ Just a gentle, loving reminder that you climbed onto a tidal emotional rollercoaster without checking the seatbelt. ”

“I had a seatbelt,” I mutter. “It was just made of sex and false hope.”

Kai winces. “Oof. That’s... bleak. And relatable.”

I sigh and push back from the table, scrubbing my hands down my face. “I thought maybe... I don’t know. That he’d stay. That last night meant something.”

“It probably did, ” Kai says gently. “But he’s not built for soft landings, babe. He’s all storm and guilt and thousand-year-old self-loathing.”

“He said he wanted me,” I whisper. “And I believed him.”

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t mean it. Just means he might not know what to do with it.”

She hops down, shoving a half-empty smoothie into my hand. “Drink that. You’ve had three coffee potions and no protein.”

I take it automatically, but I don’t sip.

Mira peeks in from the doorway, arms full of scrolls and concern.

“I rearranged the leyline overlays from the wreck zone,” she says softly, “but... I can run them later. If you need time.”

I blink.

She never offers to delay analysis.

Not even for minor electrocutions.

“I’m fine,” I say too fast.

Both of them give me the look.

“You’re not sleeping,” Mira says.

“You’re not eating,” Kai adds.

“You’re compulsively tracking relic resonance patterns even when they’ve stabilized.”

“You also cried at that one siren ballad commercial yesterday.”

“That song is very manipulative,” I grumble, but my voice cracks halfway through.

And suddenly, I feel it.

The crack inside me that Calder left behind when he walked out of that shack.

It’s not clean. Not sharp.

It’s soft. Slow. Exhausting.

Because it didn’t come from betrayal.

It came from absence.

From that quiet space he occupied so fully last night—and left just as fully by morning.

And the worst part?

I get it.

He’s scared. Cursed. Traumatized.

But I’m scared too.

And I’m still here.

Kai rubs my shoulder. “You love him.”

I swallow hard. “I think I do.”

Mira’s voice is quieter. “And you’re scared he’ll never let himself be loved.”

That hits harder than anything else.

Because maybe that’s the truth I’ve been avoiding in all this research and glyph-work and magical busywork.

Maybe Calder doesn’t need saving.

Maybe he doesn’t want to be saved.

Maybe I’m just another woman trying to pour sunlight into someone who’s already decided he belongs in the dark.

And gods, I don’t know if I have the strength to keep reaching for him...

If he keeps backing away.

I’m halfway to the exit when I hear her name.

Luna.

My spine locks up like I’ve just touched live leywire.

“She’s considering it,” someone says, just behind the curtain that separates the bar’s main room from the back alcove. The voice is sharp. Familiar.

Council envoy. Juno.

“I heard she’s applying for the Westwind Fellowship. Full funding. Artifact authority. Field access beyond the Bluffs.”

I step closer, staying just in the shadows.

“She’ll leave,” Juno adds. “Once the grant comes through. Can’t blame her. No real future here. Especially with him hanging around.”

My stomach drops.

“She’s the best we’ve had in two decades,” someone else says. “We can’t stop her. We shouldn’t.”

Laughter.

Agreement.

And then the sound fades as they move deeper into the alcove, taking their drinks and their casual dismantling of my entire fucking world with them.

I stand, anchored to the floor like something ancient and immovable.

She’s leaving.

Not maybe.

Likely.

And gods, it shouldn’t hurt like this.

But it does.

Because this time, it’s not the sea stealing something from me.

It’s me.

My silence.

My absence.

My fear .

I wanted to protect her. To keep her safe from the storm I carry inside me. But all I did was convince her I’d never choose her back.

And now?

Now I’m the reason she’s packing up the pieces and preparing to walk away.

The idea slices through me deeper than any curse flare ever could.

Because Luna didn’t just crawl into my bed.

She opened a place I didn’t think could be touched anymore.

She made me want again.

And I let that want drown under guilt.

I turn toward the door.

The tide’s coming in fast now.

And if I don’t move soon...

I might lose the only person who’s ever looked at the monster and reached for the man instead.