Page 38 of Charmed

What was he, a mind reader? "Am I lying down on your proverbial couch, doctor? The task isn't just about me. Brady had to realize his own version of home and what he wanted, too. Who are you angry at?"

A faint smile hit his eyes before his lips reacted. "Touché, babe."

Stupid, sexy man. "Summer Solstice is tomorrow. Litha is a time for planning and transition. I can have Ceara whip up a calling for insight, as well. Maybe it'll glean some light on the subject, lead us in the right direction."

He nodded. "Will that involve you in that white robe again under the stars? Gotta admit, you three looked hot getting all magical and earthy."

She laughed. "Yes."

"In the woods?" His grin fell. "Do you think that's a good idea, considering how my uncle came after you?"

"I refuse to cower every time he throws down a gauntlet. We're six against one, and you guys will be there to witness the ceremony." A thought trickled to mind. "I'll call upon the moon for power, too. It'll help replenish my gifts faster."

He winked. "I still say practice makes perfect."

She flicked her wrist, channeling wind under the pool surface, raising it above, and creating a small funnel. She sent it straight toward him.

He ducked underwater and came up grinning. "Missed me." He shoved his hair away with both hands. "I take it back. You were perfect already."

Damn him.

She splayed her fingers and ran her hands through the water, hypnotically watching the movement. He might've been onto something by bringing her here. It was quite relaxing and she did feel less bogged by her circumstances. It made her wonder what the draw was for him.

She glanced in his direction and caught him solemnly watching her. "Brady and Tristan don't seem as into swimming like you. What got you into it?"

Degree by degree, his features deadened until there wasn't a trace of the man she'd come to know. A gutting hollowness filled his eyes.

Whatever the reason, she'd struck a nerve, and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear his explanation. She was already in serious like with him. Getting into emotional territory could only end badly. While she tried to contemplate a way to let him off the hook, he stared at the water in grim fascination.

"I, uh..." He cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze. "I'm different from my brothers when it comes to stress. I can't escape in my mind or a book like Brady, or punch out frustration and compartmentalize like Tristan. As a boy, my uncle would go on these tirades, and I didn't know how to deal."

His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking. "A mansion this big, and yet there was nowhere to hide. I was..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I cried." He shook his head as if disgusted with himself. "He'd say things or do things, and I couldn't shut down my response. I cried. A lot. Which pissed him off more."

He swept his gaze around the room, but didn't seem to see his surroundings. "This one day, a year after my dad died, Uncle Greg blew up about something. Coward that I am, I ran. Somehow, I stumbled in here. We didn't use the pool much. In fact, no one ever came over this way. I jumped in, clothes and all. Just sank below the water and drifted."

A distracted laugh burst from his lips. "The silence was shocking. None of the yelling or resentment I was used to. The world went away as I floated. Eventually, I swam a few laps, and it worked the frustration from my system. After awhile, it dawned on me I'd stopped crying. I actually felt good for the first time in who knew how long. And if my uncle ever went searching for me, the chemicals could be blamed for my red eyes."

He swallowed and tentatively slid his gaze to hers. "I started coming every day. I wasn't at peace unless I was in the water. The humid air and scent of chlorine became my salvation."

In the crackling hush that followed, she knew two things for certain. First, he'd sliced her open from navel to windpipe with his tormenting, harrowing admission. And two, she'd never heal from the wound.

So very often, he spouted about her strength and fearlessness, but she wasn't the valiant one between them. Her chest ached for the scared boy he'd been and the uncertain man he'd become in the wake. Even then, despite how he'd been raised, he was kind and open and honest and funny. Regardless of how terrifying the situation, he stood his ground and had taken his place beside her against the same man who'd tried to strip every inch of humanity from him.

What remained was the purest form of chivalry the world had left to offer.

The band around her chest squeezed. Scorching tears built behind her eyes. Pain jabbed at her midsection. The hot ball of emotion in her throat she'd suppressed for ages grew until she couldn't breathe.

This. This was what would be her downfall. Not a curse or the Brotherhood of Venetores. Riley Meath was going to be the end of her.

Limbs heavy, she pivoted and made her way to the stairs. Her hands shook as she reached for her sarong on a chair and put it on.

"That's it, Fi?"

Water splashed, but she kept her back to him. Footsteps padded behind her and droplets pattered on tile. She closed her eyes, unable to move.

"I slice a vein open and tell you something my brothers don't even know, and you say nothing? I just handed you ammunition for a decade of taunting to toss in my face, and you can't even conjure a barb in response?"

Her heart cracked. Right down the center. "Do you really think so little of me that I'd use that against you, that I'd hurt you that way?"

---