Page 61 of Whispers of the Water

As I drew closer to the mansion, I glanced up at the back of the house and realized Rune was sitting on the railing of our balcony. He gazed out a long way across the water, far into the distance. He didn’t seem to notice me below. Even in the dark, I could see that there was so much pain and anguish written into the lines of his face, which made my stomach lurch.

I was still embarrassed about what happened back in the hall, but I wouldn’t avoid him or our impending discussion. We had to come to an agreement as to where we stood, and I had questions for him regarding my suspicions from the beach—suspicions about my fox.

It felt like I was moving through quicksand as I walked through the rear French doors. I tried ignoring the fact that Rune had heard my passionate confession as I made my way to our room. The further I got away from the calm sensation of the water, though, the more panicked I felt about talking to him.

This conversation could change everything.

It could change us if that was what he decided.

It was too late, though, because I was already in our room, walking toward our balcony.

Rune sat on the stone railing, leaning against the corner post. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he stared out toward the lake that stretched beneath the night sky. The wind caught strands of his blond hair and tossed them gently around his face. His eyes shone even more brightly than usual with the moonlight reflecting off them.

When I stepped onto the patio, he looked at me. I forced a smile and asked, “Can I join you?”

Giving me a half-hearted smile, he shrugged. “Sure, if you enjoy shitty company.”

Rolling my eyes, I leaned against the doorframe and hugged my arms around myself. “You’re not shitty company.”

I ducked my head and scratched at the fox ears atop my head, preparing to launch into a more intimate and real moment with him where I officially laid out my feelings in a clear and honest way, but he beat me to it.

“That reminds me,” he started with his attention turned to the lake once again. “I’ve wanted to tell you how blind you are ever since we first met.”

Arching a confused brow, I said, “Come again?”

“It was crazy to me. I didn’t understand why someone with such a good heart would be with someone so terrible. How could someone like you fall for someone as blatantly heartless as Dax? I never understood that or why you ran off to shed tears over someone as worthless as him. But then again, I haven’t been any better, have I? So my point still stands. You’re blind when it comes to picking good men.”

I frowned and narrowed my eyes at him, momentarily setting aside his diss of my taste in men. My gaze was drawn from his eyes down the planes of his face and to his neck. That silver chain that he occasionally wore hidden beneath his shirt, paired with his words, made my heart start racing. Fresh nerves broke out in my stomach, and my footsteps were measured as I walked over to his side. His eyes had turned down at the corners as countless emotions flickered across them before they seemed to settle on misery. I reached out my hand to pull the chain from underneath his shirt, exposing the pendant.

Time stood still, freezing my heart mid-beat. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the small, blue gem.

It was my necklace.

The one I’d given to the fox.

My hunch had been correct.

Shock battled with elation in a fierce tug-of-war with awe winning out in the end.

He gave me a small smile as he whispered, “I told you that you’d find him here.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s you. It’s been you this whole time.”

“It has. I wasn’t planning on telling you yet, at least not like this, but Ardley fucked it up at the beach. I mean, I told him it was a necklace. How could the idiot confuse a necklace with a ring?”

Utterly baffled, I asked, “Why didn’t you tell me the fox was you? Why’d you have Ardley pretend it was him?”

He closed his eyes and hung his head. After a moment of silence, he finally answered, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what?”

He took a deep breath and got to his feet. When he stood, I had to tilt my head back to look into his eyes. His features were stricken with some sort of internal burden. I desperately wanted to reach out and smooth away his frown and troubled eyes. I held back, though, waiting for him to speak.

“I’ve done a lot I’m not proud of. How I treated you in the beginning is something I regret.”

Eyes going wide at the admission, I reached toward him, wanting to reject the idea, but he held up a hand.

“I was horrible to you.” His voice broke, and the pain buried within the depths of his eyes came crashing forward like a tidal wave. “I treated you badly in an effort to keep distance between us, and in doing so, I hurt you. I said so many things that I wish daily I could take back, and the way I acted was unforgivable.”

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