Page 16 of Song of Lorelei

Their conversation lasted for hours, but Lorelei could justify every minute of it—her notebook filled with pages upon pages of notes. By the time 5:00 p.m. rolled around, and Lila swung by Lorelei’s office to go get drinks together at an outdoor bar, her mental fog had cleared, and the sun peaked out from behind the clouds.

Chapter Seven

KILLIAN

“I saw Carrie at the shooting range this morning.” Branson leaned on one arm against the squat rack with a hand on his hip. The gym bustled all around them, busy with the evening crowd.

Taking a deep breath, Killian lowered into his last rep and held the squat for five long seconds. Carrie-anything was the last thing he wanted to be thinking about with two hundred and fifty pounds of weight digging into his shoulders. Exhaling, he rose, pushing past the burn, and offloaded the barbell with more clammer than he meant to. The woman at the lat pulldown machine beside them jumped.

“Sorry.” He breathed heavily, taking a long slug of water.

The fellow gym-goer had earbuds in, but she acknowledged his apology with a nod.

Wiping the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, Killian shot Branson a dirty look and grumbled, “Why are you bringing this up?”

“Because it’s concerning as hell.”

Killian raised an eyebrow at him as they switched places. Branson settled his shoulders beneath the bar and pushed up, walking out to the middle of the rack before dipping down. “Why? This is Maine. We all shot BB guns as kids. Our dads took us hunting. Carrie knows her way around a gun.”

Branson didn’t answer right away. He finished the set first. When he put the barbell back, far more gently than Killian had, he answered breathlessly, “This wasn’t a BB gun or hunting rifle she was shooting. She had a pistol. Why the hell would she need that?”

Carrie may have grown up here, but she was still a woman living alone in the northern wilds of Maine. It didn’t strike Killian as odd that she might want it to protect herself. When he said as much to Branson, he shook his head. “She’s been acting weird. Keeping to herself, unusually quiet on social media. Marci and Walt stopped by her house last month to bring a care package and her house was a wreck. They said she hadn’t showered in days. Lila went over for a little girl time—was trying to be supportive, you know? Got the place cleaned up a bit, but Carrie was just out of it.”

Killian scratched his head. “I’m sorry she’s going through something. Is she… not adjusting well to being back?” He almost wasn’t sure he wanted to ask. But he saw first-hand what depression could do to a person—first with his dad after his mom’s death, and now with Lorelei—and he wouldn’t wish that on anybody. Just because Carrie stomped all over his personal boundaries last year, didn’t mean he wanted her to suffer. He wanted her to be happy. Just happy far away from him and the life he was building with Lorelei.

“No. It’s not that.” Branson edged closer and lowered his voice. “I think it has to do with the biting mishap. Lila said her dining room table was covered in articles and books about mermaids. I think that incident really shook her up, and she’s fixating. Lila’s been gently prodding her to see her therapist again, so I guess we’ll see where that goes.”

Recalling something Lorelei had texted on her lunch break, he said, “Maybe she did go. Lorelei mentioned she came by the research center earlier today. Walked around like she owned the place.”

Branson reached past him to snag a cleaning wipe. As he wiped down the barbell, Killian slid off the plates, one by one. “Yeah, that sounds more like her. Maybe she’s on an upswing, and I’m overthinking the gun thing.”

“No, I see what you were saying. It’s a valid concern. I’m glad you guys have been keeping an eye on her. Sounds like it’s helping.”

Branson nodded, meandering over to the leg press to work on his calves. He adjusted the footplate, but didn’t sit down, distracted by something on his phone.

Seeing his own phone light up on top of where it rested on his gym bag, Killian hung back to look at the new text messages he got from Lorelei.

Something had changed over the course of the day.

Her regular updates kept him apprised of the emotional rollercoaster ride she was on at work, and more than once he almost called to beg her to take the rest of the day off and come home, particularly after the sharp dips in the early morning.

But after a long phone call with a former mentor, she seemed uplifted. Energized. All boosted by her girl’s night with Lila this evening. She’d just needed some guidance. Tools to navigate unfamiliar waters.

Maybe she’d reconsider her ocean abstinence next.

He wouldn’t push it though. Not today. She’d already put in enough emotional labor and deserved to enjoy her evening off to the fullest. Besides, he’d soon have some leverage to encourage her to swim again. Over his lunch break, he did more research on reputable fencing companies and scheduled a time for one to come out and survey their property.

If all went well, they could have a privacy fence up before the end of summer.

Killian studied the new messages Lorelei sent—a series of selfies of her with Lila at the bar, and one they must have gotten the bartender to take for them. It made his heart swell to see a genuine, easy-going smile on her face. There was a light in her eyes that had been absent for quite a long time. And the way the summer sunlight caught her auburn hair, and the sparkle of the ring he put on her finger, clasped around a dewy cocktail glass, did things below his waistline that made him grateful for the compression boxers he wore beneath his gym shorts.

He tapped out the word ‘beautiful’ on his phone and sent it, followed by ‘I can’t believe I get to marry you.’

A minute passed before three dots appeared on screen.

The next selfie was of just her. A sly, teasing grin crested her mouth, the collar of her blouse, two shades darker than the rosy color of her nipples, was pulled back to reveal the fine cut of her collarbone and sun-freckled skin. His ring on her finger still gleamed in the light. ‘Say that to me again when we get home, future husband. And maybe help me unwind?’

Fucking hell. He was going to have to cut this gym session short.

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