Page 109 of Wait For It

Dammit. Shit. Hell.

“No,” I groaned into my hands. “I mean—yes—I mean, I can’t—”

Why was I making this difficult? He’d just peeled himself back layer by layer, while I’d nodded along and encouraged him to stop living in fear.

As if I had any idea what that was like.The bravest thing I’d ever done was throw a clod of dirt at Helen—not exactly the stuff of legends.

Killian loved me.

It was like breaking the surface to gulp in a lungful of air after a life spent underwater. The moment I’d imagined since I was nine. Only, instead of vomiting up my problems, I just told him I loved him too, and we lived happily ever after. But I could feel Tristan and the church lurking in the depths, waiting to drag me back down.

“Hey.” Killian cupped my jaw in his hand, tucking several strands of hair behind my ear. “It’s okay, you can tell me. It was a little sudden, right? I know you may not be to that place yet, but it just felt right to tell you here.”

If I’d just taken Tsega’s advice and come clean last weekend after Brad’s delightful little pop-in, we might have been making love in the locker room right now.

And if I was making a list of things to do over, I probably would have reconsidered my decision to leave Killian standing on first base as I fled toward the dugout.

“Ari?” He called out. “Where the hell are you going?”

I heard the confusion in his tone but kept jogging, hugging myself with clammy hands. It didn’t matter how hard I tried; I was always going to end up hurting him.

“No, I can’t,” I muttered to the field. “This place is sacred—I’m sorry—ruined everything.”

Pretend like Tristan doesn’t exist…

Pretend you’re not engaged…

Pretend you were never considering using Killian to escape…

Pretend like tonight isn’t the last time you’ll see him…

Instead of coming up with a plan, I’d been busy playing a game of make-believe, convinced I had more time. But my clock had officially run out.

“Just wait a damn minute,” He grumbled from a few yards behind me. “I can’t run!”

I slowed as I reached the dugout and balled my hands into fists, refusing to let myself cry.

You did this to yourself, you stupid, stubborn woman.

“Christ, I’m out of shape,” Killian panted as he approached, taking several deep breaths, before adding, “Care to tell me what the hell that was?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. Instead, I squinted at a bucket in the corner of the dugout and considered throwing up in it.

Without a word, he moved down the stairs. His steady hand landed on the small of my back, leading me through the clubhouse and toward the elevator.

“What are you doing?”

Killian closed his eyes for a brief second before lowering his gaze back to mine. “You need to talk, but you can’t do it here. So, I’m going to take you somewhere you can.”

I nodded and followed him inside the elevator, not missing the way his jaw flexed and tightened as he scanned his badge. He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the railing, studying me with a sober expression. “It’s your dad, isn’t it? He won’t let you be with someone like me.”

I winced. If a breaking heart had a sound, it would be Killian’s voice at this moment. “It’s complicated.”

You see, it’s kind of a funny story, but my father sold me to his best friend so he can expand his ministry. Hilarious, right?

“My dad and I didn’t see eye to eye on much of anything for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “We’re both pretty damn hardheaded, so naturally, we avoided taking any responsibility for the way things were. We wasted years fighting over the same old shit instead of sitting down to hash things out like adults.”

“And now?” It surprised me, as his father was typically a subject he tried to avoid at all costs.

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