“Better now that you’re here,” Pearl said, laughing a little at her own joke. “What can I get for you two today?”

Daniel looked to Harper, waiting for her to order first. Pearl’s didn’t have menus. She had a few specials written on a chalkboard hanging behind the counter, but with everything else, customers were just supposed to know what was served. It helped keep locals in and tourists out.

“Um, just a Cherry Coke and a cheeseburger,” Harper said.

“I’ll have the same,” Daniel said.

“Coming right up.” Pearl winked at them both before walking back to the counter.

“So.” Daniel leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “You’re not ignoring Alex’s calls, then?”

“That’s different.” Harper shook her head and stared out the window at the traffic passing slowly by.

“How is it different?” Daniel asked.

She groaned and rubbed the back of her neck. “You know how it’s different.”

“No, I don’t. I can help you. I want to help you.”

“But…” She sighed. “It’s complicated with me and you.”

Daniel laughed a little. “No, it’s really not. You’ve made it perfectly clear what you’re open for right now. I get it. You don’t have time for anything more than friendship. But Harper, I’m not offering anything more than that.”

She bit her lip and tentatively looked up at him. Hearing him say that actually stung a bit, and she was surprised. All this time she’d been saying she didn’t want to get involved with him, and it hadn’t really occurred to her that he might not want to get involved with her.

“Your sister ran off with some weird-ass bird-monsters,” Daniel said. “Can you really afford to turn away somebody that wants to help you get her back? Especially someone that doesn’t think you’re insane for believing in weird-ass bird-monsters?”

“No,” Harper admitted, smirking a little at his description of the sirens.

“Good.” He smiled wider at that and relaxed more in the seat. “So, what’s your plan for finding Gemma?”

“I don’t have one.”

“That’s okay,” Daniel assured her. “We’ll come up with one.”

8. Ungrateful

EIGHT

Ungrateful

Gemma woke up while it was still dark out, and she barely made it to the bathroom in time. She leaned over the porcelain bowl, retching up what little contents she had in her stomach. It was Friday, and the last time she’d eaten anything had been days ago.

Once she’d finished throwing up, Gemma leaned back against the tiles of the bathroom wall and tried to catch her breath. Her mind swirled, dizzy and aching from the watersong.

Her skin felt too tight. Sweat clung to her flesh, drying sticky and making it feel as if she were shrink-wrapped.