Page 86 of Through the Water

This time, I didn’t have to see to know that I was alone again.

Ahand squeezed mine, pulling me from the nightmare. “I’m here—it’s okay.”

“Killian,” I groaned, before cracking one eyelid open. It felt as though I’d been hit by a truck—or perhaps an entire fleet of trucks. Aching muscles engaged as I stretched and turned toward—not Killian.

Tristan’s gaze narrowed as he looked me over, making the three deep lines on his forehead more pronounced.

Three meant trouble.

His eyes moved over my face once and then twice before he asked the inevitable. “Who’s Killian?”

Shit.

The thought registered, and my lips parted in surprise. I couldn’t see myself, but I imagined my eyes were probably as round as saucers too.

My forbidden curses had always been more along the lines of—shoot, darn it, or—if the situation called for it—a well-timed heck. They were never spoken aloud but had always given me a little thrill when they popped by for a visit.

Shit wasn’t an Ariana word, though. Shit was a Killian word—something that I found strangely comforting. Almost as if the man in question was right here, giving me the strength I needed to face Tristan.

“Killian was the one who helped during Ariana’s seizure.” Tiffani’s voice shook with emotion as she approached the bed with a reverence most people reserved for altar calls.

Seizure?

I frowned my confusion, wondering if Tiffani had been desperate enough to get Tristan here under false pretenses.

I hadn’t had a seizure, I’d been—I hesitated, my mind still loud with the voices of ghosts and monsters.

Well, I’d been—shit.

So, there were a few holes in my memory. Nothing I couldn’t fix. I started with yesterday morning and began working my way forward, trying to grasp where things might have gone wrong.

There were Georgia’s travel magazines. Then I was being dog-piled—literally— by the sweetest little puppies known to man.

I can’t pretend that this doesn’t mean anything. I know I’m probably messing it all up by admitting that I want to be with you.

My pulse sped at the memory of his confession, waking the butterflies that had been slumbering in my stomach. He’d kissed me, or perhaps I’d been the kiss initiator. Regardless, our lips had touched in the culmination of a decade-long fantasy.

And, judging by the bulge I’d noticed in his sweatpants afterward, it appeared as if Killian hadn’t been bothered by my lack of experience.

He wanted me, maybe just as badly as I found myself wanting him. The lusty little birds still fluttered around every time I saw him, but there was also a deeper sense of longing now—this innate need to be near him always.

Shrouding our friendship in secrecy had been a necessary, but almost unbearable evil. I tried to ignore Killian outside of my room, but there was something in him that called to me. Lately, I’d found myself missing him even when we were together.

And with that came the realization that I couldn’t run and hide forever. It was time to confront my monster. I wasn’t the obedient daughter who kept her head down and her mouth shut—that girl had died in the car wreck.

I was Killian’s, and that made me feel limitless.

Tristan wouldn’t agree—in fact, he might go as far as refusing me outright—but I wouldn’t back down.

Not this time.

“Where might I find this Killian?” he asked carefully, maybe fooling Tiffani with his concerned tone and disarming blinking. “I’d like to thank him personally.”

But I knew better.

Three lines meant trouble.

“He—” The tech swallowed, seemingly wilting under the weight of his stare. “He was released to go home, Pastor James. Like, it was a God thing that he just literally happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

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