A - Immortal Sea

was paying him, so he did.

He pushed her empty cart out of the way while the SUV backed up. The overcast parking lot was still half-full of cars from

the two o‟clock ferry. He jammed carts together, feeling the impact in his shoulders. He was stiff and sore from the night

before, from hauling boxes and from the other thing.

The shark thing.

His throat closed. The parking lot blurred like the world underwater. Blinking fiercely, he grabbed at another cart. What

was he going to do? He couldn‟t escape what he was anymore. Couldn‟t hide. Not with Morgan here, watching him. Knowing.

Sweat broke out on his face. What if Mom found out? Or Em. He felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it, guilty and

excited and miserable. He‟d always known he was different from the rest of his family, but at least when his dad . . . when Ben

was alive, he‟d felt like he belonged.

Where did he belong now?

He should never have left them alone last night, his mother and Morgan. The words ran together in his head,

hismotherandmorgan , making him uneasy in a different way.

Had he told her yet? Maybe not. Probably not. She hadn‟t said anything this morning. Just drank her coffee and packed

Emily‟s lunch and asked him the usual mom sort of questions. But it was getting harder and harder for both of them to pretend

that everything was normal. That he was normal.

Morgan‟s deep voice rolled in his head. “You are not a freak. You are finfolk.”

Whatever.

At least while he was at work he could forget for a little while. He rolled the carts toward the store entrance, letting their

rattle jar his arms and fill his head.

He wasn‟t going to think about it. Any of it.

He dumped the carts at the front of the store. While he was outside loading groceries, Wiley had taken his place bagging

for the older cashier, Dot. Which meant . . .

Gritting his teeth, Zack walked to the station at the end of Stephanie‟s checkout line.

She tossed her red-black hair without looking at him. “Where were you?”

“I had to take some woman‟s groceries out to her car. Paper or plastic?” he asked the customer.

“Oh, plastic.”

Stephanie‟s hands never missed a beat, pushing, weighing, ringing up the items sliding past her register. Her nails today

were painted dark purple. “I meant last night.”

His mind slid away from the memory of the orb and the cold, terrifying rush through the water.

“I was here.” He piled cold cuts into a plastic bag, topped off with napkins. “Working.”

“After work.”

“Like you care,” he said bitterly.

“I do. I thought we were friends.”

He dropped a can of baked beans on top of some Kaiser rolls. “Right. That‟s why you were home waiting for some guy last

night.”

“Waiting for . . . Your total is seventy-three dollars and twenty-nine cents,” she said to the man standing in line. “Thank

you for shopping at Wiley‟s.”

She waited until the shopper collected his bags before she hissed at Zack, “I was waiting for you, dummy.”

His mouth gaped.

She turned to the next customer in line. “Did you find everything you need today?”

Zack‟s mind whirled as he bagged the items that came at him down the line, crackers, dish soap, chunky chicken soup, two-

sixty-nine .

Stephanie‟s voice broke into his concentration. “So, if you weren‟t with me, who were you with last night?”

She couldn‟t be jealous. Jesus, he was a freak, whatever Morgan said.

“My father,” he mumbled.

She shot him a sharp look over her shoulder. “I thought your father was dead.”

“My biological father.”

“Oh.” Her fingers paused their dance over the register. “Wow. Wait . . . Is he the really hot guy staying at the inn? Looks

kind of like you, but older? Blond.”

Zack felt his face get red. “I don‟t know.” Was he hot? Did she think he was hot? “He‟s got light hair.”

“That‟s the one. Your total is thirty-two dollars and eighty-five cents,” she said to the woman in line.

Cans were piling up in front of Zack. He stuffed them into a bag.

“I‟m sorry, this register is closed now. Dot can take you over there. Dad.” Stephanie raised her voice, calling over to the

other register. “I‟m taking my break now.”

“Stephanie, it‟s Friday.”

“I get breaks on Friday.” She flashed him a grin. “Please.”

He huffed. “Fifteen minutes. Not one second more.”

“Thanks, Daddy. Come on,” she said to Zack.

He finished loading the woman‟s cart. “Where?”

“Break. Hurry up.”

He followed her back to the storeroom, drawn by her quick, firm steps and smoothly moving hips, helpless as a fish on her

line.

She dropped into a metal folding chair, waved him to another. “So, what did he want?”

“What?”

“Your father. What‟s he doing here?”

He looked into her sharp, interested face. Some of the tension churning inside him eased. “I don‟t know.”

“Maybe he‟s dying and he wants to leave you all his money.”

He shot her a disbelieving look.

She shrugged. “Okay, my fantasy, not yours. He probably has another family tucked away somewhere.”

“I don‟t think so.” Zack swallowed. “According to my mom, he never got married.”

“He could still have kids. You could have, like, half brothers and sisters running around someplace and never know it.”

Zack‟s chest felt tight. He was having enough trouble figuring out where he belonged without the thought of others like

him out there somewhere.

“I have a half sister already,” he said. “I don‟t need anybody else.”

“Still, it‟s kind of cool. Him looking you up after all these years. Although it‟s weird, him waiting so long.”

“He didn‟t know about me,” Zack heard himself saying. “When my mom got pregnant. She didn‟t know how to get in

touch with him.”

At least, that had been the story she‟d always told him. Who knew anymore what was true or not?

“So it was kind of not his fault,” Stephanie said.

Zack jerked one shoulder, unwilling to admit it.

“I wonder if he‟s carrying a torch for your mom.”

He recoiled. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, because he never married. And then your dad dies and your other dad, he finds her again and—”

“Stop,” Zack said.

“Sorry. Awkward.”

“Yeah.”

“I hate to think about my parents doing it.”

“He‟s not my . . .” Zack‟s voice cracked, humiliating him. It hadn‟t done that in months. He cleared his throat. “My father

is dead.”

Under the black liner, her blue eyes were serious and sympathetic. “It doesn‟t take anything away from your dad if you get

to know the new guy.”

Morgan‟s voice rolled through his memory. “You have no idea of the dangers out there . ”

“I was fine until you came along.”

“Which only proves how little you know . ”

Zack stood, his chair scraping on the concrete floor. “I don‟t want to know him. I don‟t want anything to do with him.”

“Why not? You might have more in common with him than you think. You probably take after him, at least a little bit.”

Zack‟s pulse pounded in his head. “That‟s what I‟m afraid of.”

“It‟s not like he‟s an axe murderer or something.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Inside his boots, his toes curled. Not an axe murderer. A shark. Merfolk. Finfolk.