Page 13 of Don’t Hook the Merman

It seemed cruel to wake him after he’d been through such an ordeal, so Luke set the plate gently on the bedside table and prepared to leave in silence. But when he glanced back over, Syrus was watching him, dark eyes wide open.

Luke’s heart jumped in his chest. “Sorry,” he managed to whisper. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

For some reason, Syrus had a different energy like this, newly woken and wary. That wry amusement he observed the world with was nowhere to be found, and he was holding himself unnaturally still in a way that was almost predatory. Like if Luke made one wrong move he’d be out of the bed faster than Luke could blink.

Which was ridiculous to think. Syrus was injured. He could barely walk without Luke’s help.

Syrus’s gaze shifted from Luke’s face to the plate. That odd tension left his frame, and he wrinkled his nose.

Luke resisted the urge to sigh. “You don’t like steak?”

What other meat would Syrus have been asking for rare? Some kind of fish?

Or had he really meant raw?

But then Syrus’s face relaxed, and he was smiling with more of his secret amusement. “Thank you, Luke.” His eyes fell closed again. Apparently Luke was dismissed.

With nothing else to say, Luke left, closing the door quietly behind him. He went to the kitchen and took out some salmon from the freezer to defrost for later, then ate his steak in silence. He briefly considered the merit of vegetables but decided he was too tired to make any. He also briefly considered the much more appealing idea of a nap, but that seemed too decadent, especially with someone else picking Colby up for him. Luke should stay busy and use his time wisely.

For want of a better idea, he went to his garage. If he’d been verging on running behind on his table before, he definitely was now.

He didn’t know how long he’d get to work before Syrus needed him, so he kept his tasks small, going over the carvings on the legs. It required concentration regardless, and Luke usually lost himself in his work, but now his mind kept returning to his guest.

Luke had never interacted with someone like Syrus, someone who set his senses on such high alert. There was something about his voice especially—that low croon—that had Luke hanging on every word.

And when Luke had been helping him get dressed before, Syrus had made this…humming noise. It had gone straight through Luke, reverberating through his bones and setting his skin on fire. He’d had the strange urge to lean forward, to get closer and closer until⁠—

Luke shook his head. He needed to stop…whatever this reaction was. So Syrus was pretty and built and—Luke now knew firsthand—very well hung. That didn’t mean Luke could drool over him indiscriminately, not when Syrus was depending on him for help.

And Luke had to help, didn’t he? Syrus said he had no one to call, and Luke had this big house with only him and Colby in it. A house he only owned because of an inheritance from his grandparents, same as his sister. It was the reason Luke had been able to pursue woodworking to the degree he had. The reason he was now able to support Colby and himself on the questionable income brought in from custom-made furniture.

Luke had always known he was lucky to have what he did without earning it. But he hadn’t done anything with that feeling—not really. He hadn’t given back to any charitable causes or invested in his community. Lately, he’d been putting his everything into raising Colby, and that had seemed like enough.

It was possible, though, that he’d become a little too isolated in fatherhood. It wasn’t exactly like he’d sown his wild oats before Colby had come along. Sure, Luke had spent a little time living in Seattle in his twenties, but overall he’d been happy to come back and live right where he’d grown up. Where else would he have the ocean and the forest for the taking, and a whole community who knew him and now Colby by name?

But lately there’d been that nagging feeling. Like maybe Luke had made Colby’s world a little too small. He worried sometimes, on those late nights where sleep didn’t come easy, that Colby might grow up to regret the parent he’d been left with. The one who always chose the safe option, the one who rarely ever ventured out of his routine. What if, when Colby grew older, he resented the little bubble Luke had made for him?

Luke frowned at his carvings. That wasn’t the point right now. The point was that Luke had never had cause to know what it was like to be so adrift there was no one to call. He’d never had to rely on the kindness of a stranger, because he’d always had family and familiar neighbors and all the rest.

And Syrus had no one.

So that kind of sealed the deal, didn’t it? Luke had the means to let Syrus stay a while, and the laws of decency said he should. And if anything seemed fishy—if he was at all worried about Colby’s safety—Luke would pull the plug.

Luke didn’t know exactly how much time had passed when he set his tools aside, took off his safety gear, and gave Shauna another call.

She answered the phone with a huff. “Nothing’s on fire. No crystals have been choked on.”

Luke ran a hand over his face, holding in a laugh. “I know. Can you keep Colby tonight after all? I’ll be there early in the morning with his clothes and lunch and⁠—”

Shauna cut him off before he could fully ramble. “I told you, we’re good. He’s forgotten all about you, anyway. You’ll have to reintroduce yourself.”

“Not funny.”

Shauna made a noise that indicated she found herself plenty amusing for the both of them. “You’re letting the axe murderer stay, then?”

Luke nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “I think so. Yeah.”

“Good. If nothing else, you’ll have a great story at the end of it.”