Through The Water: Fairest Series Book Two

by Myers, Shannon

  * * *

  “This is just to be polite,” I noted as I limped along just behind Bailey, nearly colliding with the tray in his hands when he came to a sudden stop.

  He jerked his head toward me with a patronizing nod. “Yep. You mentioned that already. It must be such a hardship, taking food to a gorgeous woman. Now, which room is hers?”

  “Just up here,” I conceded in a gruff tone. “Across the hall from mine.”

  “Just across the hall from you,” he repeated, his eyebrows rising. “Okay, I believe you now.”

  I straightened. “What the hell does that mean? Why would I lie about where her room is?”

  “Oh no,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I believe you about that. I was actually referring to your denial over wanting to bone your mute lady friend. You’ve been in the desert for so long that you can’t see the forest for the trees.”

  “Wait—what? Was that supposed to be an analogy? It makes no fucking sense.” I clenched my jaw and hobbled around the roadblock he’d created before looking back over my shoulder. “By the way, I thought we agreed you were going to drop it.”

  “I just want to live long enough to see my baby boy find happiness,” Bailey explained as he speed-walked past me. “C’mon, old chap. Keep up—wait, maybe you should sit this one out. Can’t have you falling off your crutches and breaking a hip, can we? Nope, best to leave it to the professionals. And with her mouth full, I doubt your girl will even know you’re not there.”

  “You son-of-a-bitch,” I growled, the rubber tips on my crutches all but squealing against the linoleum in my attempt to overtake him.

  He snorted. “What? I’m obviously talking about the delicious food I’m bringing her. Get your mind out of the gutter. Seriously, you kiss your mother with that mouth, Reed?

  “Nah,” I panted as I broke even with him. “Just yours.”

  We weren’t exactly approaching in stealth-mode, so it was no surprise when Ari’s door opened. In fact, I was almost shocked we hadn’t drawn an entire crowd with our antics.

  “Oh, good.” The old woman clapped her hands, beaming from ear to ear. “The cavalry has come to the rescue. You boys read my mind. Come on in.”

  I stopped just outside the door. “Actually, we were just going to drop this and go—”

  She pointed up at the tray with a frown. “But there are two boxes of food on that tray, are there not? No sense in either of you eating alone.”

  “Yeah,” Bailey said under his breath, nudging me with his elbow. “No sense in either of you eating alone. Seems like someone else said that—oh, I remember now. It was me. You’re welcome.”

  I caught a glimpse of Ari through the open door and stilled. Her long hair was down, trailing in loose, uneven waves down her back. My heart slammed against my ribs, causing the smart-assed reply on my tongue to come out sounding more like a rough exhale.

  The outdated dress and apron were gone, along with the clownish makeup. Someone had done a hell of a job scrubbing it off her face too, her cheeks were still tinged pink.

  My eyes flickered over the black sweatpants and oversized pink t-shirt featuring two cats fighting over a ball of yarn. It was by far the most normal thing I’d ever seen her wear.

  Maybe I’d been a bit too hasty in my decision to write off a romance between the two of us. I could tuck Ari away, somewhere no one could get to her. It wasn’t like before with my mama. This time, I wouldn’t fail.

  Ari lifted an eyebrow, scrutinizing me with a small frown.

  We could have been in a stadium filled with women, and I wouldn’t have been able to take my eyes off her.

  I cleared my throat against a sudden rush of emotion and gestured dumbly toward the tray in Bailey’s hands. “You hungry?”

  You hungry?

  The woman looked like a goddess, and the best I could come up with was ‘you hungry?’ Clearly, I’d been in the desert too long to converse with the trees—or whatever the hell it was Bailey had said.

  She nodded, shifting against the pillows and twisting her necklace between her fingers in the ensuing silence. I was gawking. I knew it, but it was like I was seeing her for the first time.

  And it seemed I wasn’t the only one who’d been rendered stupid by the sight of her. Bailey caught his shin on the leg of a chair as he moved forward, sending it into the wall with a jarring thud and nearly losing his grip on the tray.

  “Hey—” He cleared his throat, his voice suddenly much deeper than before. “Hi. You got yourself a tent bed. K, did you get one of these?”

  “Um—” I fumbled for the next word, suddenly drawing a blank.

  What was the question?

  The nurse from before sat in a small chair in the corner. The slight smile on her lips indicated that she wasn’t reading the book in her hands. She was listening to every word. “It’s a Posey bed. It keeps her safe at night.”

  Bailey nodded. “I just use a nightlight, but that’s cool. Ari, you look like you need a drink—uh, a chair.” He shook his head and tried again. “You should have a chair. All of them. I don’t know why they didn’t put a table in here. Do you think there’s room for one? I could run out—”

  The older woman stopped his rambling with a small pat on the back. “Ariana looks pretty comfortable right where she is. Listen, I imagine my dinner companions have given up on me by now, so I suppose you and I will just have to make do, won’t we?”

  “I—” He shot me a panicked look as the woman latched onto his side like a leech, protesting, “But I have somewhere I need to be!”

  She chuckled in response, keeping a firm grip on his waist. “Oh, I think we both know that’s not true, dear. Just humor this old woman, will you?”

  Heat curled down my spine. I pushed my shirt sleeves up over my forearms, trying to recall if Ari’s room had felt this warm the last time, or if someone had been messing around with the thermostat.

  One corner of her mouth lifted as she watched me chew on my bottom lip, searching for an icebreaker. Compliments were always a good start—or maybe I’d mix things up by opening with a joke.

  “Hi,” I croaked, sounding like a pubescent boy.

  Clearly, I was a bit rusty.

  Ari’s eyes sparkled with amusement, and she reached for her notebook and pen.

  That was Georgia.

  Like a dummy, I actually glanced back toward the closed door. “Oh, she seems… nice.”

  She patted the mattress with her fingers and scooted over, inviting me to sit. I left the crutches near the foot of the bed and sat facing her, letting my knee dangle over the edge. The feel of her thigh brushing against mine reawakened my dick and threatened my self-control.

  It was probably just because I hadn’t eaten, and it was almost—I glanced at my watch—six-thirty. Okay, Bailey might have been right. I’d fallen into a few bad habits—nothing I couldn’t break once I was out in the real world again.

  Ari briefly covered her face with both hands before returning her attention to the notebook. I watched her gnaw at the corner of her lip as she wrote, wondering if she was considering throwing me out again.

  Turns out, there was no Halloween party tonight.

  “So, all of that was because you thought there was a costume party?” I shook my head with a relieved laugh. Ari hadn’t lost her mind; she’d just been playing a part. “And here I thought it was your everyday outfit.”

  She winced.

  Do you think we could start over and you forget everything I said? Hi, my name is Ariana.

  It was the same thing I’d said to her during our first lunch together, and a request I was more than willing to accept. She wasn’t the only one in need of a do-over. I’d spent the better part of our time together in the cafeteria imagining her naked, something that now left me feeling like an ass.

  Clearly, I was a mess. One second, I was giving up on there being anything romantic between us, and the next, I was convinced I could have my cake and eat it too. I needed to take a step back to
consider the situation from every possible angle.

  It was the right thing to do.

  “Ari,” I began, trailing off when her face scrunched up in a completely adorable way.

  Adorable?

  I scratched my jaw and tried again. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, but as we’ve got two meals and nowhere else to be, what do you say we eat?”

  My watch vibrated as I was balancing on my right leg to reach our food. I pulled the table toward the bed before glancing down and shaking my head.

  Dad-

  You going to be up for a bit? I thought we could go over your strategy together.

  Ol’ Joe was just persistent as hell tonight. I must have fucked up epically if he was calling and texting on a weeknight.

  Well, he’d just have to wait because I wasn’t dealing with it tonight. I sat back down and watched as Ari idly played with a strand of hair, twirling the curl around her index finger. Sensing my stare, she looked up, her mouth curving into a genuine smile that transformed her entire face.

  “You’ve got a sexy smile,” I said hoarsely, wanting to reach out to touch her. “Not that the rest of you isn’t—it’s just really noticeable without all the crap on your face.”

  Well, I’d fumbled that spectacularly. The nurse cleared her throat, and I briefly considered telling her to read her damn book. She hadn’t turned the page once in the last five minutes.

  I made it as far as parting my lips when several things occurred. The mattress dipped, and then the table between us was gone, careening into the wall. Ari leaned forward and placed her hand flat against my chest, her emerald eyes dazed.

  The room seemed to grow smaller under her palm, the temperature rising with each passing second. My throat bobbed in a swallow at the feel of her warm breath against the shell of my ear.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, raising every hair on my neck.

  I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve her gratitude, but it seemed important that I do my damnedest to find out. By the time I registered the feel of her lips against my jawline, she was settling back against the pillows with a satisfied grin.

  It was over in seconds.

  I exhaled and stared at her mouth, wondering how, in one move, Ari had managed to break through the bars of my ribcage to wrap herself around my heart.

  We couldn’t stop there. I hadn’t fully appreciated what she’d been offering.

  “Let me get some towels to mop that up,” the nurse said, pulling me away from my mental self-flagellation and reminding me that we weren’t alone.

  In the heat of the moment, a glass had been knocked over, sending a steady stream of water running over the edges of the table.

  The almost kiss had left even my good knee a little unsteady. I wobbled as I moved off the bed. After cracking my knuckles and rolling up my sleeves, I turned back to Ari with a gruff, “I’m going in. If I don’t make it out alive, tell the world I died a hero.”

  She scrunched her nose and gave me a lopsided grin in response.

  After shaking the water off, I passed the containers over to Ari, before emptying the flooded tray into a nearby trashcan.

  A scrap of paper filled with cursive handwriting clung to the bottom, and I pried it off to drop in when something caught my eye.

  Tell him how handsome he looks. Men need to hear it.

  Let him order for you.

  Ask for his opinion on what you should wear. He knows what looks best on you.

  Laugh at his jokes, even if you don’t find them funny.

  Let him lead the conversation. Don’t bore him with girl talk.

  Hold a cigarette between your lips, making him lean in to light it.

  Modesty is the best policy.

  If he doesn’t notice you right away, stand in the corner and cry softly. Chances are, he’ll come over to find out what’s wrong.

  My jaw went slack. What the hell was this—a submissive’s guide to mid-century time travel? The fog of lust dissipated, and I let the paper fall from my fingers into the trash, taking the remains of my appetite with it.

  There was no costume party.

  Ari studied my expression before patting the bed, but I shook my head and forced a smile, choking on my disappointment. “I can’t—I’ve, uh, I’ve got to return a call.”

  I’d thought she was different; someone I’d be willing to break my rules for.

  But what would I know?

  Clearly, I was just the fool who kept finding myself in the same traps.

  11

  Ariana

  “Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilised by education: they grow there, firm as weeds among stones.”

  -Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

  A man like Killian expects to be wowed.

  My nostrils flared as I added more soil to the clay pot on the table in front of me. The humidity dampened my skin, but I welcomed the fresh air. It was a nice change from the fluorescent lights and medicinal stench of the facility.

  And pretty much everything that occurred last night.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in the salty air, bathing my face in the warmth of the fall sunlight. But it wasn’t enough to wash away the memories of him.

  Fainted?

  Check.

  Let a bitter old woman turn me into a sexed-up version of Lucy Ricardo?

  Double check.

  Temporarily lost my mind and made out with some facial stubble after being told I was sexy?

  Check, check, and—maybe there was a vacancy at a rehab facility in another country.

  I’d given up any hope of salvaging the evening when Georgia kindly informed me that my look was about seventy years out of style.

  Mission failed.

  Time to change my name and move away.

  But then Killian had shown up with dinner and a forgiving smile, and I’d thrown myself at him, thinking it meant something.

  I’ll tell you what it means when a man all but runs from your room screaming. It means you’re an idiot.

  His rejection had left me feeling hollow and dangerously close to tears, but that wasn’t why I’d tossed and turned most of the night.

  It was because when I’d looked in the mirror yesterday, I hadn’t recognized the woman staring back. And it wasn’t just the makeup and hair. I’d lost myself, trying to become someone I wasn’t—someone who would use another person to gain freedom.

  Just like Helen’s old clothes, the behavior didn’t fit me.

  “Are you okay—do you need a jacket?” Tsega fussed with the blanket draped across my legs.

  I shook my head. No, just reliving every mistake I’ve made since arriving.

  The small morning shower had moved out, leaving behind blue skies and temperatures in the high sixties. In other words, it was perfect gardening weather.

  Although, I supposed it could have been forty degrees and I wouldn’t have complained. I loved working in the dirt, it gave me a chance to sort through my thoughts.

  Satisfied with my response, she sat back to watch me. I picked up the trowel again, surrounding the burnt orange mums with more potting soil.

  It was solitary work, but I preferred it to the constant noise inside True North. When my thoughts circled back to Killian, I switched out the trowel for my hands, taking my frustration out on the black soil.

  Because I was a liar.

  I’d been running since day one—from Tristan, the wreck, ghosts from the past—all of it. I didn’t know why I’d gotten into the convertible, but with my palm pressed to Killian’s chest, I finally felt safe. With each frantic beat of his heart, my steps slowed, allowing me to turn and face the truth.

  I was scared.

  Not of having my heart broken or spending the rest of my life locked inside a cage. No, I was petrified that the real me would never be enough for anyone. So, I let Brad put his hands on my body and took Helen’s horrible advice because their voices would al
ways drown out the sound of my own.

  Seeing the dirt caked beneath my fingernails gave me an idea, and I toed off my house shoes, digging my toes into the damp blades of grass.

  It was grounding.

  And, surprisingly, it reminded me of home. I’d often volunteered to work in the community greenhouse, preparing items to take to the local farmer’s market.

  No one ever bothered me there. I could work in peace, only leaving when the palms of my hands were good and callused. I think Tristan was under the impression I was deep in prayer, and there were indeed days where that was true, but it wasn’t why I’d volunteered for the lonely task.

  When I was elbow deep in dirt, I wasn’t the daughter of a prophet or a pawn in another one of his games.

  I was whoever I chose to be in that moment.

  Sometimes, I was a lowly governess, awaiting my beloved Rochester in the garden. I’d snip the dead off of vines and water the massive beds of flowers, all while imagining what it would be like to have someone to call my own. Other times, I was Elizabeth Bennet, walking the grounds with a racing heart as Mr. Darcy professed his love.

  “My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”

  I could have read the line a million times and never tired of it because back then, I believed that someday, a man might express how ardently he loved and admired me.

  It was naïve.

  Deep down, I envied and admired these fictional women because they possessed something I lacked—free will. Despite of the period, they weren’t easily swayed by the opinions of men. Love was a decision they made, not something thrust upon them by a voice louder than their own.

  Maybe it had never been about running away or finding love, but in being brave enough to live life on my own terms. Everyone had a plan, convinced they knew what was best for me. The constant tug of war had turned me into a powder keg of tension, ready to ignite.