Free Of Neptune (The Syrena Legacy) by Anna Banks Page A

Conway. You’re in serious trouble, young man.”
    “Aw crap,” Toby says. “I just got un-grounded yesterday.”
    “Welcome back. Go to your room. And we don’t say ‘crap.’” Mrs. Conway’s brow furrows in that kind of betrayed-mother disapproval. It’s a look I know well.
    “Do we say ‘crud?’” Toby asks.
    Mrs. Conway considers. “I suppose ‘crud’ is okay.”
    “Hey! You didn’t let me say ‘crud’ when I was his age,” Reed protests.
    “No saying ‘crud’ then, Toby Travis.” Mrs. Conway is an experienced rebounder.
    “Thanks a lot, Reed,” Toby grumbles as he passes his brother.
    “Hey, you brought it up,” Reed says. “I’ll bring you up some dessert later.”
    “You most certainly will not,” Mrs. Conway snips, standing. She collects as many plates around her as she can. “You boys are going to be the death of me. Wrestling on the floor like cavemen in front of our guests.” She’s muttering to herself about fishing trophies when she vanishes into the kitchen.
    “It seems we’ve run everyone off,” Galen says. And he seems more jubilant about it than strictly polite. “We should probably be going.”
    “So soon?” Reed says, but he’s not looking at Galen. Reed has a way of making me feel like the only person in the room.
    I glance sideways at Galen. His face shows no expression at all. He’s turning into Grom in front of my eyes. And I don’t like it.
    Galen stands. “We’ve traveled a lot today,” he says, turning to me. “I think we should call it a night.”
    I wonder what he would say if I said I wasn’t tired. If I said he could go back to the inn, and Reed would bring me home later. I mentally cross that thought out of my head. I would never do that. It would be childish, and it would hurt him if he knew I’d even considered it for a shaved second.
    What has gotten into me?
    I take a stab at faking a yawn. It turns out just as I expected: dramatic. “I am pretty tired,” I say as an understatement. Then a real yawn takes over, a really obnoxious one, and Galen and Reed share the same expression as they stare at me.
    Maybe calling it a night isn’t such a bad idea. After all, I have a lot of information to take in, process, and then dump in order to fit in more info tomorrow. I wonder how many mind-boggling facts a person can handle at one time. I have to have set some sort of record already.
    Reed walks us to the car and watches us leave with his hands shoved in his pockets. His expression is full of all sorts of doubt.
    *   *   *
    The car ride back to Sylvia’s is thick with silence. The way the air gets thick and humid right before a storm rolls in. It gets sticky and heavy and suffocating. Galen walks me to my room, and I motion for him to come inside. He hesitates. It’s then that I realize he’s holding something back. Something bigger than what happened at dinner.
    “What’s wrong?” I say.
    He still doesn’t come in. By this time, I’m already throwing my purse on the bed. He’s acting like a complete stranger, and it’s setting me on edge. “You’re not coming in?”
    Leaning against the frame, he sighs. “I want to come in. You know I do. But … I just feel that before we go further, we should talk.”
    “Further? Into what?” I peel off my ballet flats. The carpet is high and feels luxurious between my toes. Or maybe the carpet is average, and I’m trying to distract myself from looking at Galen’s troubled expression.
    He shuts the door behind him but doesn’t come any closer. “Further into our plans, I guess.”
    “Plans?” Plans? When a guy says plans, he’s usually talking about the next meal or movie or game on TV. When Galen says plans, he’s talking about Plans.
    He runs a hand through his hair. Not a good sign. “The truth is, I’ve been thinking about our deal. How we said we would wait until our mating ceremony until we … And that our mating ceremony would wait until after college. Is that … Is