Through The Water: Fairest Series Book Two

by Myers, Shannon

  The time would allow me to navigate the murky waters of Ari’s emotions. She couldn’t shut me out forever, and, who knew? Maybe the news of my departure would make her more amenable to the idea of taking our romance public.

  Tiffani agreed to meet us after class, and Fynn closed the door before gesturing toward another chair. “Why don’t you take the one beside her? I feel like you’ll have more room there. Alright, Ariana, are you ready to get going?”

  “Ready to warm up those vocal cords?” I teased, tucking a few loose hairs behind her ear. “Maybe sing us one of your special songs?”

  I’d been asking to hear one, just to see if maybe I recognized her voice. The feelings of familiarity had persisted to the point that I began to consider the possibility we’d seen each other before. Maybe in a bar where she was performing.

  She nodded almost robotically, seemingly paler than she’d been just a few minutes before.

  Fynn studied her with a small frown before retrieving a book from his desk. “Everything okay?”

  Another nod.

  And I suddenly couldn’t remember the name of the puppy lady.

  Great.

  He cut his eyes over to me. I shrugged, refusing to offer up any information. If the therapist knew I’d kissed her right into a catatonic state, I imagined he wouldn’t be much of a fan anymore. I also imagined he would have no trouble breaking me in half.

  “Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll take it easy on you today, but maybe try to get a nap in before you go see Natalie.”

  Convinced he wasn’t about to deck me; I relaxed and shifted my attention back over to Ari.

  Fynn opened the book and turned to a list of fictional businesses and their contact information. “Remember this, Ariana? Can you point to the phone number for the hardware store?”

  The girl had picked up on my trust issues with no issue but couldn’t complete what should have been an insultingly easy task. Her finger bounced from row to row, searching for an answer that wouldn’t come. Then, she stopped moving completely.

  Sometimes, the brain just gets overstimulated…

  I pushed to the edge of my seat, trying to inject my voice with as much calmness as I could muster amid the sound of alarms going off in my head. “Fynn, something’s not right. I think she’s—”

  Ari’s hand suddenly flew from the page, shaking like it was in a spasm before contorting into a claw. Her head followed, turning as if she was going to look over her right shoulder. But the stiff, jerking movements made it clear she was no longer calling the shots.

  “No, no, no,” I pleaded, reciting the word over and over like a prayer as her body went rigid.

  Seizure.

  The word was amplified in my head, complete with flashing red lights and sirens. She’d been exhibiting all the warning signs, and I’d ignored them.

  I’d fucking ignored them.

  Her limbs contorted into seemingly impossible positions, but Ari’s mouth hung slack, her eyes fixed in a blank stare. When she began sliding down in the chair, I fell back on the training as if on autopilot.

  Protect the person having a seizure.

  I briefly became aware of Fynn radioing for a doctor as I carefully lowered Ari to the floor, turning her onto her side like I’d been shown in case she began vomiting.

  My arms ached with the need to surround her, to squeeze her small body until the tremors stopped, and she came back. But restraining her would have only increased her risk of broken bones. No matter how much I wanted to, I was powerless to stop it.

  Fynn pushed the chairs away from us and instructed me to cradle Ari’s head in my lap to prevent another injury before calmly directing someone over the radio to call for an ambulance.

  No class in the world could have prepared me for the utter helplessness I’d feel watching Ari’s body spasm and contract uncontrollably. My heart slammed against my ribs, beating down the bars of its cage to get to her.

  To protect her.

  Using gentle movements, I brushed her hair back with the tips of my fingers before resorting to something I hadn’t done since I was a boy—prayer.

  Most seizures will end within five minutes.

  I had no real concept of time, but it seemed like it should have been over by now. Just as I began to question where the hell the doctor was, the door opened, flooding the small room with people.

  “Time of onset?” Someone shouted.

  I shook my head, maintaining my hold on Ari.

  I didn’t know.

  “Seven minutes ago,” Fynn stated from somewhere nearby, his voice steady despite the situation unfolding in his office.

  With the answer, the medical team sprang into action. Ari’s dress was lifted, and her panties yanked down before they injected something directly into her body.

  I closed my eyes and continued stroking her hair, silently pleading with her to wake up. We should have been drinking coffee while making plans on how to see each other once I was released. When I told Ari about the offers, she would have cracked some joke about me thinking I was a big deal or cheekily asked for an autograph.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  After stabilizing her, the medical team pulled her from my arms, placing her on a waiting gurney in the hallway.

  Then she was gone, and I was left holding nothing.

  “I—” I dragged my hands through my hair. “Is she—”

  Fynn helped me up, supporting my weight as he led me toward a chair. “She’s going to be okay. Unfortunately, with brain injuries, there’s always an increased risk of seizures.”

  “But where are they taking her?” A couple of people walked past the open doorway, discussing some inane topic as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. It was as if the world had been on mute during Ari’s seizure. The sudden volume was too much.

  “She’ll be taken to Methodist—it’s the closest hospital. I expect they’ll monitor her overnight, make sure there is no swelling or new bleeds before releasing her back to us.”

  “But she was fine—I saw her last night, and she was fine.” I sounded like a broken record, but I couldn’t make sense of it. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Ari had been talking and smiling. “How did this happen?”

  Fynn dropped into the chair Ari had just been sitting in. I mashed my lips together, reliving the terror all over again.

  He leaned in, letting his forearms rest on his thighs. “First of all, it’s nothing you did. It could have been any number of things—a change in her medication, lack of sleep, or even stress. We’ll know more once they’ve had a chance to run some tests. In the meantime, I’m here if you just need someone to talk to—”

  “No, man. I’m good. Thank you.” My words lacked conviction, but Fynn didn’t push. He just handed me my crutches and a business card with his cell phone number in case I changed my mind.

  My eyes drifted over the staff photos lining the walls on the long walk back to my room, but I couldn’t have told you a single name.

  Stress.

  I’d done it again, taken what I wanted, damn the consequences. But this time was much worse. This time, I’d gone too far by pushing myself on Ari like a caveman.

  Are you good?

  No, I was beginning to think I might have been the most self-centered bastard who ever lived. I’d gotten caught up in the idea of Ari and how she made me feel, never once stopping to consider the impact her injury might have on her ability to have a relationship.

  Then again, if I’d just listened to what Bailey was trying to tell me, I would have known. If Ari wasn’t suffering from a brain injury, she never would have considered a man like me.

  Just like Tampa and Chicago, I’d fought to exploit her weakness to get what I wanted, because I knew a good thing when I saw one. But Ari deserved more—she deserved that high-dollar, long-term contract with the right person—not damaged goods offered up by a man who’d fucked around with his teammates’ wives.

  I continued my internal ra
nt on into my room, just shy of the bed when my throat contracted painfully. That first sob was like the sounding of a gong—a deep, reverberating ache that rattled my bones and tore my chest open.

  Reed men didn’t show emotion—crying was a sign of weakness that got you nowhere. If Joe were here, he’d no doubt have clicked his tongue against his teeth before shaking his head in disapproval.

  Maybe he’d never wanted a son, but a dog—something that could have been trained to obey his every command.

  For whatever reason, that thought, along with the sight of my shell-shocked expression reflected in the mirror above the sink, made my tears come faster.

  I sucked in a ragged breath and mashed my lips together, but it was no use. My grief was not content to go quietly. No, it demanded to be heard as it stripped the flesh off the bone, leaving me to bleed out.

  On what should have been the best day of my life, I’d been reduced to a loud, blubbering mess, forced to let go of burdens I’d carried for far too long. With a sharp exhale, I released the anger I’d held toward my father, wishing I could have lived up to his expectations and wondering if it would have made a damn bit of difference.

  But Ari—Ari was a wound that would never heal.

  I felt the loss of her in each strangled sob, and the gaping hole in my chest grew wider. Eventually, what was left of my heart fell through to the floor.

  16

  Ariana

  “I looked at the stars, and considered how awful it would be for a man to turn his face up to them as he froze to death, and see no help or pity in all the glittering multitude.”

  -Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

  All that running and I’d managed to end up back where I started. Shards of glass from the shattered windshield bit into the skin around my ankles, holding me captive. The headlights flashed on and off like a message being sent in Morse code.

  My palms squeaked noisily against the hood of the convertible as I clumsily searched for something to grip—some object that would free me from my glass prison.

  But there was no escape.

  The motor was still running, heating the metal hood until it burned against my cheek, but I couldn’t move. The radio switched stations at random, the volume rising higher and higher. That, coupled with the vicious pounding in my skull, drowned out any hope at a coherent thought.

  I was Humpty Dumpty—if he’d tried escaping the wall instead of just sitting atop it. Regardless, the outcome was the same. We’d both ended up cracked open on the pavement below.

  And all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Ari together again…

  “Ari? Oh, Ari, what have they done to you?”

  My skin prickled in fear at the sound. It had been easy to feign bravery with Killian sitting beside me, but I was alone now, and this ghost felt just as real to me as he did.

  The leaves began to rustle as if something big was tearing its way through them. I didn’t want to be scared, but I knew what was coming through the trees, just like I knew exactly what it wanted.

  Me.

  “Ariana,” it taunted, masked behind the green foliage. I choked back a scream, recognizing that this was no ghost.

  This monster was real.

  “Those walls were built just for you.”

  “Ari?” The ghost cried out again, pushing into the clearing. She jerked her head to the left and right, searching for me in the dense smoke of the wreckage. “I can help you, but you have to come back to me!”

  The monster mocked her words with a cold laugh. “Ariana, I can help you! Why don’t you tell me your sins, and I’ll tell you mine!”

  I brought my palm down over my ear, trying to block the sound of their voices, but they were too loud. Almost as if the noise was coming from inside my head.

  When she saw me, the ghost’s mouth fell open in shock, but she didn’t come any closer. A twig snapped on the ground from somewhere behind me. Her eyes slowly moved up, taking it in.

  It wasn’t just me anymore—she could see the monster too.

  “Listen to me,” she commanded, lowering herself into a crouch. “You’re the only one who can end this.”

  “I can’t—”

  “It will only get worse unless you can remember who you are and why you left that night. There was a reason, Ari!”

  The monster slid around the front of the vehicle faster than I would have imagined, approaching the ghost with a wide grin.

  But there was nothing happy in the dark red blood that ran from its teeth, coating its chin and neck. This was a shark in search of a meal. The ghost knew it, but she didn’t run. Instead, she straightened and matched its menacing grin with one of her own.

  “Ari, you take down a monster by exposing it,” the ghost stated before taking a step forward. “Let the world see the truth, and it loses its power.”

  “Daughter,” the monster drawled in Tristan’s voice before raising its fist. “Such sin lives within you—”

  “Ashlynn!” I screamed, but it was too late. The monster’s arm came down on her, and everything went black.

  This time, I didn’t have to see to know that I was alone again.

  A hand squeezed mine, pulling me from the nightmare. “I’m here—it’s okay.”

  “Killian,” I groaned, before cracking one eyelid open. It felt as though I’d been hit by a truck—or perhaps an entire fleet of trucks. Aching muscles engaged as I stretched and turned toward—not Killian.

  Tristan’s gaze narrowed as he looked me over, making the three deep lines on his forehead more pronounced.

  Three meant trouble.

  His eyes moved over my face once and then twice before he asked the inevitable. “Who’s Killian?”

  Shit.

  The thought registered, and my lips parted in surprise. I couldn’t see myself, but I imagined my eyes were probably as round as saucers too.

  My forbidden curses had always been more along the lines of—shoot, darn it, or—if the situation called for it—a well-timed heck. They were never spoken aloud but had always given me a little thrill when they popped by for a visit.

  Shit wasn’t an Ariana word, though. Shit was a Killian word—something that I found strangely comforting. Almost as if the man in question was right here, giving me the strength I needed to face Tristan.

  “Killian was the one who helped during Ariana’s seizure.” Tiffani’s voice shook with emotion as she approached the bed with a reverence most people reserved for altar calls.

  Seizure?

  I frowned my confusion, wondering if Tiffani had been desperate enough to get Tristan here under false pretenses.

  I hadn’t had a seizure, I’d been—I hesitated, my mind still loud with the voices of ghosts and monsters.

  Well, I’d been—shit.

  So, there were a few holes in my memory. Nothing I couldn’t fix. I started with yesterday morning and began working my way forward, trying to grasp where things might have gone wrong.

  There were Georgia’s travel magazines. Then I was being dog-piled—literally— by the sweetest little puppies known to man.

  I can’t pretend that this doesn’t mean anything. I know I’m probably messing it all up by admitting that I want to be with you.

  My pulse sped at the memory of his confession, waking the butterflies that had been slumbering in my stomach. He’d kissed me, or perhaps I’d been the kiss initiator. Regardless, our lips had touched in the culmination of a decade-long fantasy.

  And, judging by the bulge I’d noticed in his sweatpants afterward, it appeared as if Killian hadn’t been bothered by my lack of experience.

  He wanted me, maybe just as badly as I found myself wanting him. The lusty little birds still fluttered around every time I saw him, but there was also a deeper sense of longing now—this innate need to be near him always.

  Shrouding our friendship in secrecy had been a necessary, but almost unbearable evil. I tried to ignore Killian outside of my room, but there was something in
him that called to me. Lately, I’d found myself missing him even when we were together.

  And with that came the realization that I couldn’t run and hide forever. It was time to confront my monster. I wasn’t the obedient daughter who kept her head down and her mouth shut—that girl had died in the car wreck.

  I was Killian’s, and that made me feel limitless.

  Tristan wouldn’t agree—in fact, he might go as far as refusing me outright—but I wouldn’t back down.

  Not this time.

  “Where might I find this Killian?” he asked carefully, maybe fooling Tiffani with his concerned tone and disarming blinking. “I’d like to thank him personally.”

  But I knew better.

  Three lines meant trouble.

  “He—” The tech swallowed, seemingly wilting under the weight of his stare. “He was released to go home, Pastor James. Like, it was a God thing that he just literally happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

  Feeling Tristan’s eyes shift back to me, I arranged my expression into one of careless indifference, but inside I was reeling.

  Gone.

  Killian wouldn’t have just left without saying goodbye. Not after that kiss. Not before I had a chance to tell him who I was. He wouldn’t have left me behind unless there was a good reason—unless something had forced him to run.

  The seizure.

  I saw it clearly. My brain had finally understood my request and decided to release the memory from the vault. Until now, I thought sleep paralysis was the scariest thing I’d ever experienced, but this was worse.

  This was a helplessness I hadn’t been able to wake myself from. Unable to cope with even the smallest sense of freedom, my body had become a cage.

  And I was its captive.

  My throat burned with rage that any God could be that cruel, leading me back to Killian, only to rip him away all over again.

  “That’s a shame, isn’t it, Ariana?” Tristan’s hand tightened around mine. A warning.