I pushed Morgan’s hand away from my face and grabbed my notebook.
Where is he? Is he putting you up to this?
She huffed a mirthless laugh and lowered her head. “C’mon, Ari. You’re smarter than that. Do you really think so little of me? Tristan’s in New York. Dean’s working.”
My father contracted an outside security firm two years ago, after claiming the church had been receiving threats. Overnight, Brother Caleb and his magazines were replaced by stone-faced men and Dobermans.
Dean must have been working the night of my accident. It made the most sense as he was the only one who ever spoke to us. Well, that and his willingness to look the other way for the right price.
How can I believe you?
Morgan’s lips moved silently as she read, mouthing each word like a curse. “I’m a little surprised you haven’t figured it out by now. I mean, haven’t you been even the slightest bit curious as to why he’s not here, watching your every move?”
If Tristan wanted to push for a plea of guilt, he would have sent Brad or another church elder to monitor me until I cracked. The fact I’d been left alone spoke volumes because it meant someone had taken my place. I tightened my hands into fists, squeezing until my fingernails dug into the flesh of my palms.
“That night, Tristan called. He’d wanted me to go down to the church to meet a guest pastor who’d flown in to speak. I guess he wanted to get a feel for the space. The details are kind of a blur now, but when I went outside, the convertible was missing.
“I told him I sent you, Ari,” Morgan sighed, confirming my fears. “Said I wasn’t feeling well and asked you to fill in for me. What was I supposed to do? Tell him you’d snuck out and taken my car? You know what they would have done to you—”
But what did they do to you?
She lifted her shoulder in a half shrug, eyes glistening with tears. “Nothing I can’t live through. Believe me, it’s better this way.”
Morgan wasn’t acting as an emissary to Tristan but as a martyr… for me. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, my mother’s ring glimmering from her left hand. Everything she possessed had once belonged to someone else—the ring… the clothes… the children.
Had she ever wanted more than a hand-me-down life?
I shook my head at the unfairness of it all. The decision to run away and the consequences of being caught should have rested firmly on my shoulders.
My jaw tightened as a piece of my nightmare came back to me. Morgan’s BMW had gone off the road and down a steep embankment. The nurses had confirmed that much. With the tree cover and lack of light, I should have remained lost for days.
She hadn’t known my plans or even where I was headed, but someone else had.
How did they find me?
“I wondered the exact same thing and did a little digging. It took some time, but I finally found what I was looking for. Tristan has trackers… on every single vehicle.” She shifted from one foot to the other before lowering herself onto the chair. “I haven’t told anyone, but I think—I think maybe that’s how they found Ashlynn.”
I closed my eyes for a long moment, feeling the blood as it drained from my face, no doubt headed down to stir up my stomach some more.
Ashlynn.
It had been almost two years, but my heart ached just as fiercely as it had the afternoon I learned my sister’s fate. Loss was the one wound impervious to time.
Unfortunately, Morgan wasn’t finished.
“This is why you can’t come back.” She hesitated, fished a small teddy bear from her bag, and then gently placed it in my hands. “When we moved away, my granny gave me this stuffed animal. She said it was a way for me to always feel close to her. I kinda thought she was crazy but squeeze it.”
I did, surprised to feel a solid mass in the middle of its stomach. What is it? I mouthed.
“Well, it turns out Granny was a little skeptical about the nice preacher man inviting us to live in his gated community. So, she hid a cell phone and some cash inside the bear and sewed it up.”
Morgan gnawed on her bottom lip. “I know it’s not much, but it’ll get you out of the city once you’re healed. I’d send you to Granny’s place, but she—she passed not long after we left.”
I didn’t understand. She’d had the means to disappear but was willing to give it away without a second thought? It didn’t make a lick of sense. The back of my eyes stung with unshed tears, but I wouldn’t show weakness now, not in light of what she was offering.
Why?
Her forehead creased. “What do you mean, why? Don’t you see? Those trackers are proof Tristan knows where everybody is at all times. Ashlynn didn’t die out here—” Morgan lowered her voice. “I think he killed her, Ari. And if you go back, he’ll kill you too. No one walks away from him.”
There was no time to process the full implication of her words because I was too busy freaking out at the sudden and unexpectedly loud knock. Morgan flinched, tearing her eyes away from mine and back toward the door.
The trackers.
“No,” she whispered as if reading my thoughts. “I took the bus. Tristan doesn’t know—he couldn’t.”
A moment passed, and then another, but Morgan stayed rooted to her chair in fright. I would have loved nothing more than to mentally check out for a while, but there was no time. She’d sacrificed herself for me once already. Now, it was my turn to be brave. I scribbled in the notebook before pressing it and the bear into her hands.
When she remained seated, I gave her a gentle nudge with my foot and gestured toward the bathroom.
Go.
Finally, she got up. I waited until the bathroom door closed behind her before moving toward the sounds of incessant rapping. My stomach gave another stern warning, but I ignored it and gently lifted the handle.
As his tall form and hopeful grin came into view, my hand fell uselessly back to the chair. I gaped at him; suddenly grateful I was sitting as the hallway appeared to be tilting. Nothing would have been more horrifying than stumbling into a man on crutches.
The edges of my vision swam in black, and I struggled to keep his face in focus as everything began spiraling out of control.
I was wrong.
Merely losing my balance would be nothing compared to swooning into his arms like a hapless southern belle at the least sign of excitement.
Not that it really mattered.
By that point, my body was already pitching forward into darkness without so much as a please or thank you.
8
Killian
“Yet far and away- far, far and away- the most critical number in all of baseball is 3: the three outs that define an inning. Until the third out, anything is possible; after it, nothing is.”
-Michael Lewis, Moneyball
“Hey girl, I’m real sorry about your brain.” I winced at my reflection in the mirror. “Obviously, don’t lead with that. Who says that? Sorry about your brain? Jesus, you suck at this.”
I’d been practicing the damn apology for the last hour. Well, twenty minutes of it had been spent working on making my smile appear remorseful, instead of menacing.
My speech needed to be perfect. I’d made the mistake of going off-script once before, but not again. This time there would be no talk of weather or food—nothing that could be construed as rambling.
“Hey girl, I owe you an apology. Yeah, I’m talking to you.” I put a hand on my hip and waggled my eyebrows suggestively, before sighing. “Fuck, Killian. Get ahold of yourself. Just apologize to the lady and get the hell out of her room before you mess it all up again.”
Now that was a solid plan.
It would have been even better had I gotten her name, but that could come later. Not that I was expecting there to be a later. No, I was just going to apologize and stay as far away from her as possible for the remainder of my time here.
Then again, there was always a remote chance of her name coming up in someone’s conversation and me just h
appening to overhear it.
What was I thinking?
Obviously, I wasn’t going to be calling her anything because this was a one-time thing. One apology. Nothing else.
Get in, get out, and move on.
“I think you’re ready,” I told the mirror with a wink, instantly realizing how off-putting and sexual the gesture seemed. I looked like the perverted uncle at a family gathering—not what I was going for when trying to apologize. “Maybe don’t do that. Ever.”
The hallway was deserted. Most of the residents were spending their Saturday with visiting family members or playing games down in the common area. Not that I minded. In fact, I almost preferred it. The last thing I needed was an audience of baby boomers, giving me suggestions in the middle of my apology.
After shifting my weight onto my right leg, I released my crutch and knocked firmly. It was a decision I’d gone back and forth on—knowing she couldn’t speak or walk—but barging in unannounced seemed like an excellent way to end up on the six o’clock news.
I perused the corkboard affixed to the girl’s door while waiting for a response, straining to hear something indicating she was inside. I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like the television might have been on, so I’d give her a minute.
A. James
Abigail? Anna? A—girl who won’t come to the door?
After a full minute of silence, I rolled my shoulders and brought my fist down against the wood again, wondering if it might have been better to catch her on the way to lunch.
I continued scowling at the door until, at last, it opened. The color drained from the girl’s face as she looked up at me, her hand dropping back to the arm of her chair. I gave her what I hoped was a disarming grin when she began to tremble, while everything inside of me screamed to abort the mission.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The girl blinked up at me through droopy eyes but made no move to invite me in. There was a slight chance I was giving off the pervy uncle vibe again, but without a mirror in front of me, I had no way of knowing for sure.
“So—”
She tipped forward before I could finish the thought, her eyes rolling back in her skull.
Okay—not exactly the reaction I’d been hoping for.
My crutches fell to the ground with a clatter. I swooped in, managing to catch the girl by the shoulder before her forehead hit her knees.
“Wait!” I groaned, balancing on my right leg. “Wait—non-weight bearing! Non-weight bearing!”
The belt across her lap might have kept her from falling out completely, but the momentum had sent the chair precariously close to ending my career permanently.
“Alright, girl.” Keeping one hand on her, I side-stepped the chair and let out a harsh breath. “Need you to wake up now, preferably before someone comes out of their room and calls security.”
Doing my best to keep my weight on my good leg, I tucked my finger under her chin and lifted her head, thinking it might bring her around faster. Several strands of red hair had come loose from her braid, and I tucked them back behind her ear, close enough to see the scar she’d been trying to hide.
Her lashes fluttered briefly before opening fully to reveal her gorgeous green eyes. And I was once again struck by the strangest feeling I’d seen her before. Not in here, but years ago.
Maybe another life entirely.
I closed my eyes and conjured up the woman’s face before snapping out of it. The feeling of familiarity was nothing more than a wicked case of déjà vu, or hell—maybe just the leftover remnants from a lonely man’s wet dream. A man who had not been with a woman in over a year.
Anything else would require a CT scan and a visit to the psych ward.
I studied the reddish-brown freckles scattered across her nose and cheekbones, before following a line of sweat as it moved from her forehead down to her jaw.
A small line appeared between her brows as she returned her eyes to mine, clearly as confused by my gawking as I was. I scanned the hallway for a nurse, deciding apologies could wait for another day.
I’d probably give the poor girl a week or two to completely recover before trying again. Or, if I wanted to avoid her fainting on me again, I could just write a letter and slip it under her door.
All plans of escape went right out the window when she lifted a hand to the side of her neck, covering mine. Her wide eyes were even more remarkable up close, with flecks of gold dotted throughout.
I’d come here to say something, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what it was.
The bathroom door inside her room suddenly popped open, and the blood surged back up to my brain. I jerked away, grimacing when my brace caught on the side of her chair. The subsequent flash of pain sent me stumbling into the door frame with a muffled curse.
Fully aware of how it looked, I ignored the vibrant pulsing in my knee, loudly explaining to anyone within earshot, “You just fainted, but I think you’re alright now. I’m just going—”
“Wait,” a voice called.
My knee was throbbing, and I was entirely out of my element. Even the girl had shifted in her chair and was glaring back toward the room with a deep frown. I couldn’t necessarily say I blamed her. Things between us hadn’t exactly gone according to plan.
Again.
She might have hated me with every fiber of her being, and I would have understood. However, I really didn’t need the woman emerging from the bathroom to think I was some sort of predator. Theo had overlooked a lot in the past, but I was pretty sure this would be viewed as a scandal—which I’d been expressly forbidden from taking part in.
At the time, it’d seemed like an easy agreement to make.
I opened my mouth, prepared to argue my innocence. Thinking about stroking someone’s face was not the same as actually doing it and, therefore, not a crime. The courts would back me up on that.
Probably.
The woman rushed out into the hall; her mouth set in a hard line. “You said she fainted?”
I rubbed my forehead, wishing I’d gone for that cup of coffee instead of trying to be a decent person. “Uh… yeah. Seems to be doing okay now, though, so I’ll just leave her—”
She glanced at me. “Can you help me get her into bed?”
I flinched at the question, convinced I’d misunderstood. Judging by her saucer eyes and open mouth, the girl hadn’t been expecting it either.
The woman continued staring up at me expectantly, and I shot a pleading glance down the deserted hallway before lifting my shoulder in a half shrug. “You know, I think they have people—I’m—you see, my knee’s messed up—”
The corner of her mouth quirked up as she looked at the two of us, before snagging my crutches for me. “Well, do you have a second to come in and wait with us until the nurse can get down here? They might want to talk to you about what happened before she fainted.”
A long moment of torturous silence passed, during which the girl lowered her head, giving no indication as to her thoughts on the matter.
“But—” I sighed. I couldn’t say no, even if I wanted to, not unless I wanted to draw a lot of unwanted attention. I’d have to check the manual, but I was reasonably confident unwanted attention was also covered under the no scandals umbrella.
I scrutinized the woman’s features, searching for signs of weakness. Instead of looking away, she tipped her chin up to meet my stare, her brown eyes sharpening in challenge.
Great—where was Bailey when I needed him?
He would have had the dark-haired beauty eating out of the palm of his hand, allowing me enough time to escape. And the woman was beautiful—well, what I could see of her. The baggy dress she wore fell to her ankles and was just shapeless enough to keep her body type a mystery. Inexplicably, there were also what appeared to be sewn-in shoulder pads, something I hadn’t seen in women’s clothes since I was a kid.
I imagined if I grinned and used the right tone, I could still sweet talk my way out of this, even without
my wingman. “Look, as much as I’d love—”
“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this.” She smirked and raised her voice. “I went to the bathroom and came out to find that my beloved sister had fainted. I’d say you have some explaining to do.”
Alright, I was good, but she was better.
“Is there a problem?”
I flinched again, turning to find a very tiny, yet very fierce-looking woman glaring up at me.
“Not at all,” the dark-haired woman interjected. “Mr… I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”
“It’s Killian,” I bit out with a tight smile. “Just Killian.”
“You see, Killian here was just helping me get my sister back into the room. She seems to have fainted on us—probably low blood sugar or something like that. Would you mind helping us, Tsega?”
The pint-sized aide agreed and, after firing a million questions in my direction, wheeled the woman back inside. The door closed with a soft click, leaving me alone in the hall with the conniving sister.
I inclined my head toward my room, clicking my tongue against my teeth. “Well, it looks like everything is settled here. So, I’m just going to—”
“Did they make you do the training? Like they do with the families?” She blurted out suddenly, running a hand through her dark hair.
“Uh, excuse me?”
“The seizure training—did you have to watch the video?” She drew closer. “If not, you need to get on that. Today! Yes, do it today.”
Once she stopped tossing fragmented sentences my way, I asked the utterly logical question, “And why exactly would I need to do that?”
“So, you can sit with her—my sister, I mean. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back, and—I’m Morgan, by the way.” She thrust her hand toward me with a lopsided grin.
“And there aren’t nurses who can do this?” I asked before reluctantly taking it.
Through The Water: Fairest Series Book Two Page 10
