Siren’s Song Read online

  Siren’s Song

  Willow Harbor - Book 5

  Juliana Haygert

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Juliana Haygert.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Manufactured in the United States of America.

  First Edition January 2018

  www.JulianaHaygert.com

  Edited by H. Danielle Crabtree

  Proofreading by Running Ink Edits

  Cover design by Najla Qamber Designs

  Any trademark, service marks, product names, or names featured are the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if one of these terms is used.

  Created with Vellum

  Welcome to Willow Harbor

  Strange Neighbors. Hidden Desires. Small Town Charm.

  * * *

  Come stay awhile …

  Contents

  Five Years Ago

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Two Weeks Later

  Extend Your Stay In Willow Harbor…

  Meet Mattie And Pierce

  Meet Claire and Mason

  Meet Tessa And Landon

  Meet Eva And Nikolas

  About the Author

  Also by Juliana Haygert:

  Five Years Ago

  BROOKE

  Willow Harbor was practically perfect.

  Besides the beautiful beach, the cozy atmosphere, the tight community, and the comforting willow tree at the town square, there were my two best friends and the hot boys.

  Especially the one staring at me from across the bonfire.

  Almost a whole year older than me, Robbie was a junior at Willow Harbor High School, but we still had two elective classes together this year, which was when he started flirting with me. I had always known who he was. Besides Willow Harbor being a small town, Robbie was the quarterback for our school’s football team and a damn good one at that. All the girls from school knew who he was and had a crush on him.

  Including me.

  But I never harbored any dreams about it; after all, I wasn’t popular.

  And yet, he had noticed me. He started talking to me during class and in the hallways, and then when we crossed paths outside school.

  Like the luau tonight.

  Winter was almost over, and the weather was getting warmer, which was reason enough for the most popular group at school to organize a luau at the beach complete with bonfires. But instead of bikinis and tiki torches and lei necklaces, we wore jackets and had blankets spread over the sand and made s’mores. Someone had driven a big truck onto the sand, and loud music blasted from the speakers set on the bed.

  Lillian nudged me on the ribs. “Go dance.”

  I glanced at the group standing to the side. Dancing was the more polite word for it.

  “Hm, no thanks.”

  “Come on. You want Robbie to approach you? Go dance! You’re graceful, and even a little sexy when you dance.”

  I scoffed. “The cheerleaders are dancing. They are graceful and sexy.”

  “No, they are vulgar. And the worst part is, with the amount of beer they’ve had, they have no clue.”

  I chuckled, watching the girls. They were pretty, but Lillian was right. Their clothes were tight and showed too much skin for this time of the year; their exaggerated gestures and loud voices and giggles showed everyone how drunk they were.

  “And to think I wanted to be a cheerleader too.”

  Lillian shuddered. “Thank goodness you didn’t make the cut.” I shot a glare at her. “Hey, Brooke, I’m on your side, hon. You’re so much better than them, but come on. If you had become a cheerleader, I would have lost you.”

  A small smile tugged at my lips. “I’m here, you idiot.”

  “Thank God.” She nudged me again. “Now, go dance.”

  “Only if you go with me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m a terrible dancer.”

  “At least stand beside me and sway,” I insisted. I wished Jane could have come with us, but her parents hadn’t allowed it.

  She let out an exaggerated gasp. “Sway?”

  I chuckled. “Come on.”

  I pushed up from the blanket and extended my hand toward her to help her up, but her eyes bulged and she shook her head at me.

  I was about to ask her what was the problem, when a shadow fell over me.

  Gulping, I turned as Robbie walked up to me. “Hey,” he said. His blue eyes fixed on mine and my breath caught. “Hm, would you like to go for a walk with me?”

  I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t. The words got stuck in my throat each time I tried. Lillian kicked me in the shin. “S-sure,” I said.

  After a quick glance at my best friend, I followed Robbie toward the sea, ignoring the hateful stares from the cheerleaders.

  Once the light from the bonfire barely reached us, Robbie’s steps slowed down.

  “I love the sea,” he said.

  “Me too.” I liked everything about the beach. Even the sand—that was why I was barefoot in the cool sand, while most people wore shoes. I glanced out at the dark water, at the shine of the full moon reflecting on its vast surface. “I feel like it calls to me.” I glanced toward Robbie and found him staring at me. Heat spread over my cheeks. “What?”

  “You’re pretty.”

  The heat in my face increased. I pressed my hands to my cheeks, sure he was just saying that to score some points with me. I wasn’t that great. A little too tall and skinny for my taste. The only two features I really liked about myself were my green eyes and my long, thick black hair.

  Wanting to change the subject, I said, “I heard there will be scouts here next month to watch you play.”

  His smile gained a proud shine. “Yeah. Coach has me training harder than ever just because of that.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “I guess.” He shrugged. “And what about you? You used to dance and do gymnastics, and I know you like to sing. What else should I know about you?”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “Small town. People talk.”

  “Sometimes people talk too much.”

  He nodded. “Sometimes they do …” He stepped closer. “There’s something else I would like to do.” His eyes flicked to my lips. My heart skipped a beat.

  Without another word, his arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me to him. His lips touched mine, tentatively at first. Not sure what I was doing, I followed his lead. And soon I found my hands around him as I kissed him.

  My first kiss.

  After a moment, Robbie pulled back. “That was …” He stared at me
as if he could bite me.

  My cheeks were hot again.

  He slipped his hand in mine and tugged me to walk with him along the ocean. I dipped my toes in the chilly water, loving how the cold shock made me feel alive. Powerful. Invincible.

  One of my favorite songs started playing at the party behind us, and I started singing along, low at first.

  Robbie halted and stared at me. Self-conscious, I shut my mouth.

  “No, it was pretty. Continue, please.” He took my hands in his and spun me around. I giggled. “Sing while we dance.”

  He spun me around his arm and caught me, pulling me close to him.

  And I decided it was time I lived a little.

  I sang along with the song a little louder, a little happier, a little more confident. Robbie swayed side to side, our feet in the water, and soon I was taking the lead, moving his arms along with mine, stomping my feet with the beat, and singing louder.

  Robbie stopped dancing. He blinked at me and I wasn’t sure if he was staring too hard or if his vision was hazy. “You’re so pretty,” he said, his voice dreamy.

  I slowed my dancing. “Robbie, are you okay?”

  “I’m perfect.” He grabbed my hand and kissed my palm. “You’re perfect. You’re wonderful.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s going on?”

  He placed his hand over his heart. “You’re the most stunning girl I’ve ever seen.” He let go of my hand and took a step back, toward the water.

  I averted my eyes, not used to so many compliments. “You can stop that now.”

  “But it’s true.” He took another step back.

  “Robbie, this is not funny anymore. Whatever stupid game you’re playing, you can stop. I’m not falling for that.”

  “I’m not lying.” He retreated more. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Stop, Robbie.”

  “I can’t,” he said. “I won’t because I think … I think I’m in love.”

  And then he fell into the water.

  * * *

  NATHAN

  Like this, Willow Harbor was almost perfect.

  Like this, in the quiet, comforting darkness of the beach, I could pretend this life was good and the case I was working on would solve itself.

  Whenever I hit a wall, I had to step back and relax a little, and nowadays that meant going for a run on the beach. It was just the moon, the ocean, the sand, the sound of the lapping waves, a chill winter breeze, and me.

  Perfect.

  For about ten minutes.

  A bonfire, a truck, and teenagers were taking most of the beach up ahead. The music reached my ears along with loud voices and laughter.

  Ah, to be that young and careless.

  Most of my people didn’t have that chance. In my nineteen years, I had never been to a bonfire party. Or any kind of party. The get-togethers I was most used to attending were funerals.

  I shook my head once, and since they were all close to the water, I made a detour to the boardwalk alongside the road. I kept running, and as soon as I was past them, I went back to the sand, close to the water.

  Not a minute later, I saw the silhouette of a girl and a guy right in front of me. She was standing at the edge of the water, and he was farther in, the water up to his thighs.

  I turned, ready to make another detour, when I heard them.

  “Stop, Robbie,” the girl said, her voice high, agitated.

  “I can’t,” he responded, his tone rather dreamy. “I won’t because I think … I think I’m in love.”

  The guy opened his arms and jumped back, over a wave and under the water.

  “Robbie!” the girl screamed. I stopped running and stared as she made her way into the water. “Robbie?”

  It could be a joke, but the girl didn’t seem to think it was funny. Neither did I.

  The seconds passed and the guy didn’t resurface.

  “Please, stop playing.” A sob ripped past her throat, and she moved her arms through the water, searching for him.

  The good samaritan in me spoke and I rushed toward her. She noticed me coming and turned to me, her eyes wide.

  That was when I felt it.

  The pull. The power. Her magic.

  She was a siren and she didn’t seem to know it.

  I felt myself leaning toward her, toward this beautiful young woman with big green eyes and long, luscious dark hair. Damn, she was perfect.

  “Please, help me,” she cried.

  The despair in her voice broke the spell. I shook my head once and averted my eyes. If I didn’t look at her, I wouldn’t fall under her spell again.

  Then I dove under the waves to save a stranger.

  One

  Brooke

  I hated winter break. Besides having to come back home from school and spend time with my mother, the snow never stopped falling, trapping me inside the house.

  With my mother.

  There was only so much she could take of me and vice-versa.

  It had been only nine days—and one winter storm—and I was already done. Ready to leave. But there was still five days until I had to go back to school. And most roads were still closed because of the damn snow.

  I gave it another day before I lost my mind. Or before my mother and I started yelling at each other. We hadn’t yet, which was a miracle, but we had avoided spending time together—as much as one could inside a small townhouse.

  Bored out of my mind, I rolled onto my back on my twin bed and opened the Instagram app … for the two-hundredth time today.

  And instantly regretted it.

  My best friend from school, Joanne, kept posting pictures of her annual family vacation. Every year, her big family got together during winter break and went away on some awesome trip. Last year, it was Greece. The year before it had been China. This year, it was Cancun.

  As much as I hated looking at her pictures, I also loved them. She posted many, many photos of the beautiful, clear blue ocean, and each time I stared at it my heart squeezed. I missed the ocean. I hadn’t been anywhere close to the ocean since my mother decided we had to move out of Willow Harbor five years ago.

  It had been so sudden, at least to me it had seemed that way. One day, she was fine and dandy and friendly—our relationship was much better back then—the next day she started packing, saying she had gotten a better job offer. A couple of days later, we had moved to Mobridge, South Dakota.

  And our relationship changed from wine to water.

  I never understood why we had moved from Willow Harbor, or why she started shutting me out and being rude to me. Maybe it was just my fifteen-year-old-self who thought she was mean. Maybe I had been the mean one, but I had made her the bad guy in my mind.

  The damage was done and now we just endured each other.

  Oh, I missed the ocean and Willow Harbor. To be honest, my memories of Willow Harbor were hazy. It was like I had left the small beach town when I was eight, not fifteen. I would think I would remember things better, but no. Everything seemed covered by a cloud of fog in my mind.

  Everything but a clear picture of the ocean.

  Sighing, I dropped my phone and stared at the ceiling. Next year, I would get a job during winter break. Maybe at a ski resort or some other place where it would be busy. I didn’t care, as long as I didn’t have to come home.

  The sound of a car approaching had me jumping off my bed and racing to the window. A car? Today? I thought the roads were still snow-covered and dangerous.

  To my surprise, our road looked mostly clear. I guess the snowplows had been working overtime to clear everything. After all, people had to go back to work, and I had to go back to school soon.

  But it wasn’t just a car. It was the mailman. He stopped his little mail truck in front of our house, and from the lowered window, placed a stack of mail into our mailbox.

  I put on my coat and hat and mittens and my snow boots and ventured outside.

  The chilly wi
nd greeted me, and I cursed under my breath. I wasn’t cut out for this much cold and snow. The winter storm had just passed, and the forecast was for more snow tonight. How could someone live like this?

  I was sick of snow.

  I walked through the white fluff, a scowl of disgust stamped on my face. I stomped hard, as if I could hurt the snow and show my discontent.

  As fast as I could, I grabbed the mail and came back inside. I took off my gloves and hat, and shuffled through the stack—cable company ads, credit card offers, the water and garbage bills, a bank statement, more ads, and … a letter for me?

  I flipped the fancy, thin beige envelop. My name and address were written in curly handwriting and there was no return address, only a stamp from the post office.

  Willow Harbor.

  I left the other mail on the console table along the foyer and sat down on the stairs, staring at the beautiful envelope. Who could have sent me a letter from Willow Harbor? Even though we tried to keep in touch, Lillian and I had stopped talking years ago.

  Careful not to ruin the beautiful envelope, I ripped a corner and pulled out the thin, white paper. It was a short letter, written in the same fancy handwriting from the envelope.

  * * *

  Dear Brooke,

  I don’t even know how to start this letter. I guess I just wanted to say hi. To ask you if you’re well, what you’re up to. To tell you I think about you every day and hope you’re happy and well. Also to tell you I care about you and wish I could meet you.