Page 58 of Through the Water

11

Ariana

“Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilised by education: they grow there, firm as weeds among stones.”

-Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

A man like Killian expects to be wowed.

My nostrils flared as I added more soil to the clay pot on the table in front of me. The humidity dampened my skin, but I welcomed the fresh air. It was a nice change from the fluorescent lights and medicinal stench of the facility.

And pretty much everything that occurred last night.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the salty air, bathing my face in the warmth of the fall sunlight. But it wasn’t enough to wash away the memories of him.

Fainted?

Check.

Let a bitter old woman turn me into a sexed-up version of Lucy Ricardo?

Double check.

Temporarily lost my mind and made out with some facial stubble after being told I was sexy?

Check, check, and—maybe there was a vacancy at a rehab facility in another country.

I’d given up any hope of salvaging the evening when Georgia kindly informed me that my look was about seventy years out of style.

Mission failed.

Time to change my name and move away.

But then Killian had shown up with dinner and a forgiving smile, and I’d thrown myself at him, thinking it meant something.

I’ll tell you what it means when a man all but runs from your room screaming. It means you’re an idiot.

His rejection had left me feeling hollow and dangerously close to tears, but that wasn’t why I’d tossed and turned most of the night.

It was because when I’d looked in the mirror yesterday, I hadn’t recognized the woman staring back. And it wasn’t just the makeup and hair. I’d lost myself, trying to become someone I wasn’t—someone who would use another person to gain freedom.

Just like Helen’s old clothes, the behavior didn’t fit me.

“Are you okay—do you need a jacket?” Tsega fussed with the blanket draped across my legs.

I shook my head. No, just reliving every mistake I’ve made since arriving.

The small morning shower had moved out, leaving behind blue skies and temperatures in the high sixties. In other words, it was perfect gardening weather.

Although, I supposed it could have been forty degrees and I wouldn’t have complained. I loved working in the dirt, it gave me a chance to sort through my thoughts.

Satisfied with my response, she sat back to watch me. I picked up the trowel again, surrounding the burnt orange mums with more potting soil.

It was solitary work, but I preferred it to the constant noise inside True North. When my thoughts circled back to Killian, I switched out the trowel for my hands, taking my frustration out on the black soil.

Because I was a liar.

I’d been running since day one—from Tristan, the wreck, ghosts from the past—all of it. I didn’t know why I’d gotten into the convertible, but with my palm pressed to Killian’s chest, I finally felt safe. With each frantic beat of his heart, my steps slowed, allowing me to turn and face the truth.

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