The Sweetest Summer(27)
“Sure.”
“Good. Wear your sunglasses and hat or get yourself a costume. Put Chrissy in her pirate getup and just blend in at the parade. Hide in plain sight. Try to avoid talking with the cop. I’ll touch base with you tomorrow night.”
“Okay.”
“Bye.”
“Hey, wait, Hal. How do you know he’s a hottie? I never told you what he looked like.”
Hal snorted. “I’m staring at his BPD photo right now. Dude’s got a penetrating gaze and a set of guns on him.”
“Sheesh.”
“Do you want to know if he’s married?”
Evie clicked her tongue. “I can’t believe you asked me that! It doesn’t matter one way or the other. Why would it?”
“Right. Well, just as an FYI—he’s divorced.”
Thank God. “Good night, Hal.”
“’Nite, Evie. Sweet dreams.”
* * *
No, no, no. He would not. He could not. He refused to touch the hand of the bronze sea goddess and say the words. He hated the words. He knew that anyone who believed this shit—including his own mother—had a screw loose.
A sane, rational man had no business here. He decided to go.
So odd . . . his feet made no contact with the ground. They pedaled along as if treading water. No matter how hard he willed his legs to churn, he didn’t move an inch. He was trapped in Fountain Square, staring directly at the mermaid, the one place he swore he would never be.
Suddenly his feet hit solid ground, but they froze in place. When the wind picked up, fountain spray misted his face and chest.
She beckoned to him again.
No!
She didn’t seem offended by his refusal. The metal maiden smiled down upon him as if she knew every doubt in his head, every regret in his heart.
He heard her speak, which was impossible, of course, since her lips remained welded shut, cold, and lifeless. He would not believe. He refused.
“Enough, Clancy Flynn. It is time for you to see that I am not your enemy.”
Oh, hell no. Of course he was dreaming.
“There is only love. And now you are ready for it.”
Okay. Since this was his nightmare, he would simply make himself wake up and be done with the whole hideous hallucination.
Wake up.
Wake up!
Wake the fuck up!
“You are a son of the island, part of a story far bigger than you realize. You now face the most important decision of your life, Clancy. Soften your gaze. Calm your mind. Follow your heart, and the choice will be clear.”
Suddenly, he was no longer at the square. He stood on the dock instead, watching the girl go. Her soft hair lifted in the breeze, her long and tanned legs carried her away from him. But wait. What was happening? Someone—or something—grabbed her and began dragging her toward the ferry. She struggled, freeing one arm enough to turn and reach out to him, eyes sharp with terror. “Clancy! Help me! Please!”
Time to wake up. Now.
He gasped, a desperate rush of air slamming into his lungs as he shot upright. Clancy was in his own bed, in the dark, the sound of the sea crashing nearby and the ceiling fan whirring above. He touched his chest, neck, and face, finding his bare skin dripping with sweat. Or was it fountain spray? His heart thudded behind his ribs.