Page 42 of The Merman’s Betrothal (Outcast Hearts #2)

I n the middle of the street, Rory’s legs gave way. He collapsed in a gasping heap and clutched at his chest.

‘What the fuck… What the fuck just happened?’

He struggled to breathe around the pain in his chest. It was like his heart had been ripped right out of him.

Wait…

Not his heart.

Rory pressed his forehead to the cold pavement. Something deeply important was missing. He couldn’t feel the current any more. It had drained out of him, taking Fionn’s presence with it. Leaving him feeling like an empty basin longing for the sea to return.

‘What have you done, you blue bawbag?’ Rory hissed then dragged himself to his feet. Had Fionn found a way to cut him loose? Or was Fionn in trouble?

The thought knocked the wind out of him a second time. What if Fionn was in trouble?

Rory’s spines stiffened, tearing right through his coat. All at once his muscles were pumped and ready. He’d already been on his way to the Star to fetch a few belongings. It wasn’t far to the harbour.

Rory careened around dark street corners, narrowly missing a car at one crossing and a gaggle of people at the next. The body he eventually hurtled into managed to drop and roll with him.

‘Bloody hell!’ shouted his unfortunate obstacle. ‘Watch it, yer feckin’ dafty!’

Rory stumbled to his feet. ‘Graham?’ He helped his friend up. ‘Sorry, mate. I’ve got to—’

‘ Rory? ’ The shock in Graham’s voice was unwarranted, Rory felt. Even if he could see the spines poking out his back. Except they weren’t under a streetlight, and Graham was staring solely at his face. ‘It’s really you?’

‘Yeah? Who were you expecting?’

‘Oh, you fucking…’ Graham blew out a long, shaky exhale. ‘You fucking twat, Rory. Do you know I found your work coat floating on the waves last night?’

Christ, it seemed a lifetime ago that Rory had shed his clothes, like shedding an old skin. He hadn’t thought at the time about where they might end up. He winced awkwardly. ‘And I’m the one always going on about not throwing rubbish in the sea. Sorry.’

Graham clapped him around his head, hard. ‘I thought it was you, ye feckin’ arsehole!’

Suddenly, Graham’s spooked expression made a lot more sense.

‘Oh, Jesus. Sorry to scare you.’

‘Too right, you are. Didn’t answer your phone or nothin’.’ Graham’s face dropped into a grimace. ‘You ought to get to yer Da.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, we’ve had folks out looking for ye.

Thought you’d gone overboard or something, didn’t I?

Seems like I was the last person to see you, and that was two days ago.

Anyway, I might’ve told him you were missing…

’ Graham scratched his head thoughtfully.

‘He had a right falling out with Doaty over it, too. Blamed the old sod, I guess. You were meant to be taking him out with you yesterday, right?’

Rory had no idea. Any work schedule he’d previously agreed to might as well have faded from existence by the time he’d made up his mind to meet Fionn in the waves.

Maybe this explained why he’d found Doaty so far from home.

He wondered what words had been flung between Doaty and Hamish to drive him away.

Rory also matched up this new information to the fragmented conversation he’d had with his father earlier. Could he feel warm about the idea that maybe his dad was drinking away his grief over a lost son? Not really.

Perhaps, for that half-second of lucidity, Hamish had seemed to display some kind of remorse for how he’d treated Rory. Should’ve done better.

The truth still stung, even when it was heard from the bottom of a bottle.

‘I’ve already seen him. And I left him a letter,’ Rory said. ‘He’ll know I’m alive. You can tell him I’m fine, too.’

Graham cocked his head. ‘Won’t you?’

‘I won’t be back. Not for a while, anyway. You can have the Star . And here are my house keys.’ Rory shoved them into Graham’s hands. ‘Do whatever you want with all of it. Keep me missing, if it makes things easier. I don’t really care.’

‘Rory, mate,’ Graham said gently. ‘What’s going on? Where are you going?’

‘I’m fucking off. Like you told me to.’ Rory grinned. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m going after my man.’

‘Are ye now?’ Graham’s befuddled frown morphed into a lecherous smirk. ‘That’s the stuff.’

Rory hesitated for a moment, then lunged forward for a hug. A manly one, obviously. Graham squeezed him back.

His brows furrowed. ‘What’re these things on your ba—’

‘Gotta run,’ Rory said brightly.

He took off again, sprinting at full pelt. The overcoat and boots got tossed along the way, allowing his spines and fins to flap in the air. He veered away from the harbour, out of Graham’s sight, and leapt over the cliff into the sea.

The water welcomed him home. Rory’s gills flared. His fins snapped to attention. Propelled by ferocious purpose, Rory oriented himself towards the Minch and began his desperate race to find Fionn.