Page 17 of Siren Problems

LUNA

I should’ve known better than to respond to a text from Kai without inspecting the emojis.

“Emergency at The Gutter Mermaid. Bring gloves. Wear something washable. ”

You’d think I’d learn. But no. I walk straight into the trap, clutching an industrial-strength aura filter and half-expecting to find a kelpie riot or another potion spill incident involving amorous barnacles.

What do I find instead?

Kai is sitting on the bar, surrounded by snacks, glitter pens, and what looks like a therapy workbook labeled “Feelings Don’t Have to Suck: A Guide for Magical Hot Messes.”

This is worse.

“Inventory day?” I ask warily.

“Emotional inventory,” she says cheerfully, patting the bar next to her. “And surprise! You’re the featured item.”

“Oh gods, no.”

“Oh gods, yes.” She tosses a sticker at me that says Cursed by Feelings. “Come on. Sit. Be emotionally vulnerable. Or at least pretend until you accidentally start healing.”

I sigh and sit, because resistance is futile and Kai once threatened to have Mira hex my pants to squeal every time I lied.

She slides a cocktail toward me. It’s pink. It’s sparkling. It smells like honesty and poor decisions.

“I call it the ‘Heartbreaker Spritz.’ It makes you feel brave and vaguely guilty about your choices. Drink.”

I do. Because I’m tired and my defenses are low and honestly? If anyone’s going to hold up a mirror to my bullshit, it might as well be someone wearing seafoam eyeliner and sarcasm as a second language.

Kai twirls a pen. “Let’s begin with a diagnostic. On a scale of one to ‘I’m fine’ said while actively crying in a supply closet, how emotionally stable are you today?”

“I haven’t cried in this supply closet yet,” I mutter.

“Progress!” she chirps. “Now. Talk to me about the sea prince.”

I groan. “Do we have to?”

She gives me a look.

The kind that says yes, you idiot, that’s why I dragged you here and fed you a truth potion cocktail.

So I exhale. “He’s gone. Again.”

“After sex?”

“Yup.”

She hisses. “Oof. That’s the emotional equivalent of ghosting someone after they save your life and also see your weird birthmark.”

“He doesn’t do feelings. Or mornings. Or communication.”

“But you still want him,” she says softly.

I stare into my drink.

“Yeah.”

Kai swings her legs, voice gentler now. “So what hurts more—him leaving, or the fact that you almost expected it?”

That one gets me.

Because yeah, I did expect it. Some part of me always does.

That quiet voice that whispers, don’t get used to good things, they have an expiration date.

It’s not new. Just... sharper now.

“I thought maybe this time,” I say slowly, “he’d stay.”

“Because you let him in.”

“Because I wanted to.”

Kai nods like she’s seen this a hundred times, because she has.

Because behind her glitter and glam, she’s the unofficial therapist of half the magical beings in Lowtide.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Luna,” she says. “You let yourself hope. That’s not weakness. That’s human. ”

“I’m not used to it.”

“You’re used to research and snark and keeping your heart in a lab drawer.”

“Yeah. Where it’s safe and labeled and doesn’t get crushed by a shirtless sea prince with a hero complex.”

She laughs, but then it fades.

“You’re scared,” she says simply. “Of being too much. Or not enough.”

I swallow.

Because yeah.

That’s it.

“That’s the thing,” I whisper. “He makes me feel like too much and not enough all at once.”

Kai squeezes my hand.

“You don’t have to fix him,” she says. “You’re not a curse mechanic. You’re not a magical bandaid. You’re a person who deserves to be chosen. Freely. ”

Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them away.

“You think he’ll come back?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Maybe. If he pulls his head out of his emotionally repressed ass long enough to realize he’s not cursed because he loves you—he’s cursed because he’s convinced he doesn’t deserve it.”

I stare at her.

“That’s... unfairly insightful.”

“I’ve read three romance grimoires this week.”

We both laugh, but there’s a crack in mine.

A vulnerability I can’t patch over this time.

“I love him,” I say softly.

“I know.”

“But I don’t know if love is enough.”

Kai doesn’t sugarcoat it.

“Sometimes it isn’t. But sometimes... it’s the thing that breaks the curse.”

Kai slides off the bar, suddenly serious in a way that silences even the leyline hum around us. She plants herself in front of me, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

“No more deflecting,” she says. “We’re done with safe answers.”

I blink. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s time you decide what you actually want. Not what’s smart. Not what’s survivable. What your heart wants.”

“I can’t just throw everything away for?—”

“For what?” she cuts in. “For safety? For a maybe-someday that never shows up because you’re too scared to risk the fall?”

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

Because she’s right.

I’ve been hiding behind logic, behind research, behind the thin veil of ‘I’ll fix him with knowledge’ because that feels safer than saying what I really want.

I want him.

Calder.

In all his cursed, storm-wrapped messiness.

Kai softens again, stepping close. “You want love, Luna. I’ve seen it. And you’re trying to pretend you don’t because you think choosing it makes you vulnerable.”

“It does.”

“Good,” she says fiercely. “That means it’s real.”

I look away, blinking hard.

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

She lifts my chin. “So is he. But you’ve come too far to back down now.”

I nod slowly.

Not sure.

But braver than I was ten minutes ago.

Kai kisses my forehead. “Choose, Luna. Safety, or love. You don’t get both.”

That night, I dream of water.

Cool. Endless. Familiar.

I’m floating, suspended in silver light, the sound of singing echoing all around me—but it’s not coming from outside.

It’s me.

My mouth is open. My voice moves through the current like a living thing, soft and searching. And through it, I feel him.

Calder.

He’s reaching for me.

Not with fear.

Not with desperation.

But hope.

And I reach back.

Just before I wake, our fingers brush.

And I swear I hear him whisper my name.