Page 136 of Through the Water

My footsteps faltered when I reached his side. I lifted my hand, aching to touch him, to make him real again. For several seconds, my fingers dangled in the air between us, but then his shoulders rounded, snuffing the dying embers of hope from my chest.

“I can’t look at you, Ari,” he quietly admitted, his body bristling with tension. “If I do, I’ll forget what I came here to say.”

Killian wasn’t mine—not anymore.

I lowered my hand back to my side, feeling the water close in, pulling my body down into its dark depths. This entire time, I’d been holding my breath. For him. I opened my mouth and exhaled, the swarm of bubbles tickling my nose as they drifted up. I watched them go, racing toward the light shimmering along the surface, but I’d never belonged up there.

It grew colder as I sank, seeping into my bones and bearing down on my heart. Where I expected death, I continued drawing shallow breaths, as if some unseen force beyond explanation was keeping me alive.

Just one more choice that wasn’t mine to make.

“I feel stupid, you know?” he mused bitterly to the water. “The fucking fool who’d let himself believe that maybe there really was a God—some higher power who broke me, so I’d find you.”

“And now?” I choked on the words, searching for the smallest hint that the man who’d loved me was still in there.

Loved.

Past tense.

Was there anything sadder than the stark reminder that eventually everything ran out?

Time.

Affection.

It seemed the only thing I’d hold onto would be the insurmountable pain of losing him. Maybe that would be the burden I carried in this life.

I’d spent the last ten years wondering if I could ever mean something to him like he had me. I did, just not like I imagined. I would forever be a symbol of destruction, the woman who ripped everything he loved away from him.

The muscle in his jaw ticked as he bit out, “I told you I believed in myself. When you asked me about miracles, I told you it was all bullshit. So, you know what? If there is a God, then I imagine he’s probably having a pretty good laugh at my expense right now. I’m getting what I deserve. My biggest sin was pride. I was filled to the fucking brim with it, and now, I’ve got nothing.”

“I know I’ve hurt you,” I said softly, my eyes brimming with tears.

“Hurt?” Killian roared suddenly, squeezing the railing until his arms shook. “Are you fucking serious? Blowing out my knee hurt, Ariana! This is in an entirely new stratosphere!”

I rubbed my eyes but stayed silent. I’d wanted to make him real, but this didn’t feel like a victory. His pain was indistinguishable from mine; my heart simply incapable of telling the difference.

The urge to hold him was overwhelming, like the call of a siren. With that in mind, I wrapped my arms around myself and walked farther out onto the dock, giving him my back.

“I broke every one of my goddamned rules for you,” he drawled with a bitter chuckle. “Every. Single. One. Then, as I’m being arrested—which, by the way, thank you so very much for that—I find out it was all a lie!”

His footsteps moved closer, but I honored his request and didn’t turn around. He deserved the right to purge his rage, to force me to listen to the chaos I’d created in his world. I’d take it, even if his every word felt like a knife sliding under my skin.

“You told me you were scared of your father yet failed to mention he was Tristan fucking James. I should have figured it out when you kept bringing up religion.” Killian paused, and I didn’t need to turn around to know he was drinking. I could hear the liquid splashing against the inside of the bottle.

“Was it a game to you—making me believe you were afraid?”

“I was afraid. I still am.”

“Bullshit,” Killian spat, letting the bottle fall to the deck with a thud. “Of what? Growing up in a mansion? Having your entire music career handed to you by your father’s church? Tell me, Ariana. What the hell do you know about actual fear?”

My spine stiffened, and I cocked my head to the side, catching him out of the corner of my eye. “Why’d you come? And of all places, why here?”

Killian positioned himself at my back, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body. If I rocked back, my hips would be resting against his thighs. We’d been in an almost identical position just two nights ago in front of his bathroom mirror.

“I thought it was only right that we end where we started,” he slurred against my ear, the scent of hard liquor stinging my nostrils.

Killian was drunk.

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