Page 87 of Through the Water

Feeling Tristan’s eyes shift back to me, I arranged my expression into one of careless indifference, but inside I was reeling.

Gone.

Killian wouldn’t have just left without saying goodbye. Not after that kiss. Not before I had a chance to tell him who I was. He wouldn’t have left me behind unless there was a good reason—unless something had forced him to run.

The seizure.

I saw it clearly. My brain had finally understood my request and decided to release the memory from the vault. Until now, I thought sleep paralysis was the scariest thing I’d ever experienced, but this was worse.

This was a helplessness I hadn’t been able to wake myself from. Unable to cope with even the smallest sense of freedom, my body had become a cage.

And I was its captive.

My throat burned with rage that any God could be that cruel, leading me back to Killian, only to rip him away all over again.

“That’s a shame, isn’t it, Ariana?” Tristan’s hand tightened around mine. A warning.

“It’s a shame,” I repeated with a solemn nod, no longer caring whether or not he knew I could speak.

What was the point?

Nothing was ever going to change. My nightmare hadn’t just been a fractured memory of my car accident, but a premonition. I could run as hard and fast as I wanted, but I would always end up right back where I started—locked behind the same walls I’d known all my life.

“Brad was sure sorry he couldn’t be here when you woke up, but he’s handling a few things for me.”

I swallowed the bile in my throat and nodded. “Okay.”

“Have you given any thought as to when you’d like to set the date?” Tristan’s words were a knife stabbing into my flesh as if he needed the reassurance that I was truly dead this time.

I was.

The hope that had been blooming in my chest since finding Killian again shriveled into apathy.

“As soon as I’m well enough,” I mumbled, my words surprisingly steady despite the hurricane of emotions sweeping through my body. “No need for a lengthy engagement.”

I preferred a quick death.

Tristan’s wide eyes told me he hadn’t expected my response before he managed to slow-blink his way back onto neutral ground. “I can’t tell you how good it is to hear your voice. If I’d known you were talking, I would have—”

“I wasn’t.”

In saying Killian’s name, I’d given myself away. Keeping him safe would mean convincing Tristan that he meant nothing. I brought my hand up to clasp my necklace, needing my talisman like never before. “I feel like maybe—maybe God used the seizure to rewire that part of my brain.”

Tristan’s eyes flashed with something like pride, and he nodded. “God’s still in the miracle business and can use anything to His glory.”

“Amen.” I cleared my throat against another surge of bile before asking, “Do you think I’ll be home in time for Christmas?”

“Maybe—worried you might miss out on presents?” He chuckled, seemingly forgetting the very things he preached against.

Putting Christ Back in Christmas: A Four-Part Series about Leaving Materialism on the Shelf.

“I—” I shook my head, fighting the numbness that seemed to be settling in. God help me, I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

Killian. Just think of Killian.

“I just thought it might be nice to have a Christmas wedding,” I rushed out on a whisper.

This time, I had him. Tristan made no attempt to disguise his reaction and openly gaped at me for almost a full minute.

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