He sighs. How can he sigh? We’re underwater. “This is the secret Emma.” He nods toward our feet.

I follow his line of vision. And gasp. And gulp. And choke. The shark is back—and it has swallowed Galen’s entire lower body, all the way to his waist! It flicks its fin, fighting to stay attached to him.

“Not you, too!” I scream. I kick it as hard as I can with bare feet. Galen grimaces and releases me.

“Emma, stop kicking me!” Galen says, grabbing my shoulders.

“I’m not kicking you, I’m kicking … I’m kicking … Ohmysweetgoodness.” Galen is the shark. The shark is Galen. What I mean is, there is no shark. There’s only Galen. His upper body is still there, big arms, chiseled abs, gorgeous face. But … his legs. Are. Gone. Not bit off, not swallowed. Nope, just replaced by a long silver fin. Nofreakingway.

I shake my head, wrench from his grasp. “Not happening. This is not happening.” I propel away from him, but he follows.

“Emma,” he says, reaching for me. “Calm down. Come here.”

“Nope. You’re not real. This isn’t real. I’m ready to wake up now.” I look to the surface. “I said, I’m ready to WAKE UP NOW!” I scream to myself, who must still be sleeping on Galen’s couch. But myself doesn’t wake up.

Galen glides closer without moving his arms. “Emma, you’re awake. This is your secret. What makes your eyes that color.”

“Stay right there.” I point at him in warning. “In case you haven’t noticed, I didn’t turn into a fish, you did. That would be your secret then, don’t you think?”

He smirks. “We have the same secret.”

I shake my head. Nope, nope, nope.

He nods, thoughtful. “Well, I guess that’s it then. The beach is that way,” he says, pointing to the abyss behind me. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Emma.”

My mouth drops open as he swims away. As his silhouette disappears from sight, I start to hyperventilate. He’s leaving. He’s leaving me. He’s leaving me in the middle of the ocean. He’s leaving me in the middle of the ocean because I’m not a fish. No, no, no, no! He can’t leave me! I whirl around and around. How can I find the beach when I can’t see the surface or the bottom? My breathing becomes more erratic—

But … but … how can I hyperventilate underwater? For the first time since leaving shore, I become aware of my oxygen. That I should have run out of it already. But I haven’t. Not even close. During my meltdown, I just snorted air out of my nose—and not a lot of it. Like when I talked. Just enough air to make sound. Dad always said I had a good pair of lungs, but I doubt this is what he meant.

And now I’ve attracted an audience. There is nothing hazy or dream-like about the wreath of fish that surrounds me. As schizo as it sounds, I know this is real. None of these are fish I can name—except the monster of a swordfish lingering on the outskirt of the gathering. Textbook pictures are deceiving—swordfish are much scarier in person. Still, one big fish out of the hundred-or-so small ones is pretty good odds that I won’t be eaten. They must realize that I would never, not ever, eat one of them because they move in on me like paparazzi on a celebrity. Some of them are brave enough to brush against me. One of the small red fish zips through my hair. I realize how not-normal it is, especially under these circumstances, for me to laugh. It’s just that it tickles.

I reach out, my hand splayed open. Fish take turns darting in and out of my fingers. It reminds me of when Chloe and I visited the Gulfarium back in Destin. Chloe ditched me at the hands-on tank in favor of the cute guy working in the gift shop. Every time I put my hand in the water, the stingrays flitted to me, nuzzling against my fingers as if begging for me to pet them. They created a traffic jam in the tank to get to me. Even now, a stingray pushes through the halo and flits past my face, as if to play.

I shake my head. This is ridiculous. These creatures aren’t here to play with me. They’re just curious. And why shouldn’t they be? I don’t belong here any more than Galen does. Galen.

It’s the first time I realize I can still … well, feel Galen. Not the goose bumps, or the pure lava running through my veins. No, this is different. An awareness, like when someone turns on a TV in a quiet room—even if it’s on mute, a crackling sensation fills the air. Only, this sensation fills the water, and with Galen, it’s much stronger, like a physical touch pulsating against me. Rayna’s was noticeable, but Galen’s is overwhelming. I knew the minute he stepped foot in the water, as if the pulse concentrated on the space between us. And I’ve felt it before today. This same feeling buzzed around me when I fought to free Chloe from the shark. Was he there? Is he here now?

I pivot in place, startling my spectators. Some scatter then return. Others keep going, not willing to take their chances with my skittish behavior. The swordfish eyes me, but still saunters at a distance. I check in every direction, pausing with each itty-bitty turn to squint into the underwater horizon. After circling twice, I give up. Maybe this pulse thing works over long distances. Galen could be swimming up to Ellis Island by now for all I know. But just in case, I give it another try.

“Galen?” I shout. This startles more of my neighbors. Fewer and fewer return. “Galen, can you hear me?”

“Yep,” he answers, materializing right in front of me.

I gasp, my pulse spiking. “Ohmysweetgoodness! How did you do that?”