“Then maybe you shouldn’t have tried to kill me.”

“What about what you did when I didn’t kill you!” Luce snapped it out in exasperation. “I broke our law to save you, and you just went and told the police about us!”

If he had denied it, Luce would have been sure he was lying. Instead she watched his expression turn utterly flummoxed, watched him obviously struggling to understand what she was talking about.

“Told . . . Is this about the drawing? But I didn’t even put my name on it . . .” Luce stared, wanting urgently to believe that he’d kept her secret. She wanted it so much that she knew she couldn’t trust herself.

“You really didn’t tell anyone?” Luce asked, and he looked at her too hard. Suddenly Luce realized that he was having trouble keeping his gaze from sliding down to her chest. She’d been living with other mermaids for so long that she’d completely forgotten how the sight of her naked torso would affect a human male, and she flushed and wrapped her arms across her breasts. His stare flicked down, taking in the gesture. He looked as embarrassed as she felt.

“I mean, I put that drawing in the water. To force you to talk to me. But I’d have to be insane to go around talking about seeing mermaids!” He gave a raspy laugh, and his teeth chattered. “You thought I ratted you out to the cops?”

Luce let herself believe him, then. It was like a sudden rush of warmth in her heart, a deep release.

“I thought I had to drown you, to protect everyone. And then Dana found the drawing and realized I’d saved you, after that boat . . .” The words bubbled out too fast in her relief. She turned and splashed water on her face to stop herself from crying.

“I mean . . .” He was being careful now, but there was also an incomprehensible gentleness in his voice. “I feel like I’d have a right to tell the police if that wouldn’t sound totally nuts to them. After what you guys did. It’s actually sick that I don’t hate you more than this. I should want to kill you. I’m, like, a fucked-up person for not wanting to kill you. Do you—I mean, does that make sense to you at all?”

Luce couldn’t answer, not without letting her tears loose, and she didn’t want him to see that. She just nodded. The wind lifted damp strands of his hair and slapped them against his cheek. He hunched his shoulders and stared around at the beach. His teeth clicked more loudly.

“You’re going to get sick,” Luce said. It came out broken, whispering. “You should go home.” He twisted where he sat, grating the rocks together.

“And you care about that? You’re just trying to get rid of me.”