Page 169 of Beneath the Mountain Sky
Apparently healthy, whole, well-cared for.
Thank God…
Her eyes widen as they land on me, and she stills, instantly on guard at seeing someone in her home.
I quickly hold up my hands. “I’m sorry to startle you, Amy. I knocked, but no one answered.”
It’s a lie.
But considering how far back she is in the house, if she didn’t hear the ATV approach outside, she wouldn’t have heard a knock, either.
Her wrinkled brow furrows deeper, and she clutches Niall even closer to her protectively. “Who are you?”
The vise around my chest tightens at the movement from the woman who helped take my life and baby. She’s protecting my own child from me.
“My name is Willow. You know me. We met at the clinic several times when I was younger.”
It’s been years since she worked at the clinic as a nurse. Easily in her late sixties now, Earl’s older sister looks every bit like the mother I wished I had and found in Connie.
Graying reddish hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, kind eyes locked on us. She was always so sweet to anyone who came into the clinic needing help. But now, all I can see is the woman who helped a madman.
Still, I somehow force a smile.
You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
That’s what Connie always used to say.
Maybe that was why the bees always gave Killian so much trouble when they never did me—even they could sense his wild bitterness.
I glance back at Killian, and he steps into the light behind me.
Amy retreats a half step.
A big man like him, looking the way he does right now—downright feral—I don’t blame her.
“You know Killian McBride?”
She tilts her head slightly, then nods. “Yes, I believe I helped set your arm when you broke it when you were in, what? Third grade?”
Killian nods. “Around then.”
Her gaze darts between us. “What are you two doing here?”
His glacial eyes lock on the baby, and he slides the gun behind his back as he steps into the kitchen farther. He’s smart enough to know that if he pulls it, this could end badly.
I take a cautious step toward her.
Please, God, don’t let me be wrong about this. Don’t let me be wrong about her.
“We’re here for our son.”
KILLIAN
Our son.
Those words still have a stranglehold on me.
My heart beats faster, my skin tightening over taut muscle and bone. But it’s actually seeing him that makes my lungs seize.
