Through The Water: Fairest Series Book Two

by Myers, Shannon

  She was breathtaking but broken in a way even I couldn’t fix. Not if she wouldn’t let me in. The reality of the situation came up on me like a rogue wave, taking my legs out from under me.

  If what Tsega said was true, then we had an expiration date, whether I wanted it or not.

  “Hey,” I said softly, bringing her eyes back to mine. “Don’t lower your head. Don’t give anyone that kind of power over you.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  I shook my head with a sympathetic smile. “Christ, slugger, do you always apologize for things you have no control over?”

  Ari’s lips parted and then snapped together just as quickly. I winced when she covered her face until I heard her throaty laughter.

  “I do!” She placed her hand over mine and leaned in, breaking the invisible barrier between us. “Do you ever feel like…”

  “Like what?” I asked, giving her fingers a light squeeze.

  She sighed. “I don’t know if this is the best way to describe it, but like you’re an object and not a person? Does that make sense?”

  “Perfect sense,” I answered with a mirthless chuckle, remembering how my own agent had referred to me as a product.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s how I feel,” Ari admitted, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. “Like my thoughts and opinions are a nonstarter to my father. Just once, I’d like the freedom to be able to choose what I want for myself.”

  I took a drink of my iced tea, wishing it was something a little stronger. “What would you choose?”

  “Hmmm…” she deliberated, her green eyes sizing me up. “Sorry, this is a tough one.”

  The side of my mouth lifted in a smirk. “You take as much time as you want looking. Sometimes, the answer’s right in front of you.”

  Ari’s nose crinkled as she laughed. “Wow, Killian! Hey, look all you want, slugger. I’m the only answer you’ll ever need. Did I mention I’m a super famous baseball player?”

  I rolled my eyes at her over-the-top impersonation. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t even sound like that!”

  “Ladies, I play—baseball.” She snorted suddenly, which only served to make her laugh harder. “I’m Killian Reed.”

  “Stop,” I said, fighting a smile of my own. “That’s a terrible impression. Unless you think I sound like Batman, which, I don’t.”

  After dabbing the corners of her eyes with the napkin, she grinned up at me. “I needed that. Thank you.”

  “Anytime,” I deadpanned, but I wasn’t lying. If it meant hearing Ari laugh like that, I’d let her make jokes at my expense for the rest of our lives.

  Fuck, what happened to baby steps?

  I glanced up when I saw Yuri, the owner of Papi’s, approaching our table. “Hey, hey! You didn’t say you were coming by tonight. I would have gotten you a better table, where no one would bother you.”

  No one ever approached me for autographs here. That, along with the fantastic food, were the two reasons I kept coming back.

  “And this is exactly why I don’t tell you when I’m stopping by,” I joked, before gesturing to Ari. “Yuri, this is my girlfriend, Ari. Ari, this is Yuri. He’s the owner of Papi’s.”

  He bowed his head, taking her hand in his. “Cariño, it’s a pleasure to meet you. This guy never brings anyone here. I was beginning to take it personally.”

  Two bright spots of color lit up Ari’s cheeks, and I wondered whether it was due to Yuri’s term of endearment, or mine.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she beamed, before tilting her head toward me. “So, how long have you two known each other?”

  Yuri pressed a kiss to her knuckle before returning her hand to mine. “Killian and I met, what was it—five years ago?”

  My smile slipped. “Sounds about right. Listen, we need to get going. Could I get the check?”

  He let out a booming laugh and shook his head. “It’s on the house, you know this.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but he’d already turned his attention back to Ari.

  “I met Killian when my son was in the hospital—”

  “Yuri,” I said in a strangled voice. “We don’t—”

  He held up a finger. “Shhh… let me tell it my way. So, my son was in the hospital, and he decides to write a letter to his favorite rookie baseball player. Now, I didn’t think anything would come of it, but then this guy shows up to the hospital the very next weekend bearing gifts.”

  “Really?” Ari’s eyes widened. “Killian, that’s so sweet.”

  “He’s exaggerating,” I grumbled.

  Yuri cocked his head to the side, with another loud chuckle. “You’re still hellbent on keeping this a secret, aren’t you? Fine. I’ll just say this—my son’s room was packed with Houston Hurricanes gear thanks to someone whose name I can’t mention.”

  “How is your son now?” Ari asked, caressing my skin with her thumb. I took the opportunity to appreciate her beauty. And I wasn’t referring to her appearance, although I’d been captivated by that part of her too.

  She was perfect.

  “Just turned sixteen, doesn’t want to do anything but sleep or play video games,” Yuri complained to her. “But healthy as a damn horse. Eats like one too!”

  After refusing to take my money yet again, claiming my presence alone was good enough for his business, Yuri excused himself back to the kitchen. Being the stubborn individual that I was, I left more than enough cash to cover our tab.

  Ari held my gaze. “So, where to next, superstar?”

  “You’re not ready to call it a night?”

  “Hmm… let me think.” She tapped a finger against her chin, her mouth curving into a smile. “Nope. Wherever you go, I go. Well, at least until eleven o’clock. I need to be back at True North by then.”

  I pursed my lips in mock deliberation before nodding. “Alright, slugger. There’s this band playing next door—”

  “Yes,” she interjected. “My answer is yes.”

  Tsega’s warning came back to me as I led Ari to the door, but the tightening in my chest as she looked up at me with a hopeful grin made it clear it was too late.

  Ari’s roots ran deep, and I couldn’t lose her without destroying myself.

  20

  Killian

  “Ninety percent of this game is half mental.”

  -Yogi Berra

  Outside, the temperature had dropped a good ten degrees. Knowing I needed to get used to doing more without it, I’d left the crutch in the truck. Any doubts I might have had about the decision disappeared when Ari burrowed into my side, linking our hands together.

  We made our way down to the Anchor Lounge, where a bouncer stood blocking the door. Ari’s fingers tightened against mine, but I just tipped my chin up at the guy, and he waved us through without another word.

  Once inside, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease, “Don’t you know who I am? I’m Killian Reed. I’m a super famous baseball player.”

  Ari barked out a relieved laugh as she followed me over to the bar. “Gosh, how could I forget that? I feel so much safer now with Killian Reed to protect me.”

  “Don’t worry, slugger. That’s what I’m here for.” I ordered a beer before looking down at her. “What’s your poison?”

  “Just a water, please!” she yelled over the noise, waiting until the bartender had walked away before admitting, “I’m not supposed to drink with my medicine—oh, and also because I’m not old enough.”

  Wait—what?

  I glanced around to make sure no one had heard her confession before calmly asking, “And you are… how old exactly?”

  Please don’t make me a predator…

  “I’m nineteen—” Ari’s eyes went wide. “Your face looks really pale. Did you think I was under eighteen?”

  “No.” Yes, and I was just imagining how prison was going to work out for me. “It’s probably just the lighting in here.”

  At the sound of a woman screeching her way through the bridge of Mar
iah Carey’s “We Belong Together,” we both turned toward the stage. She’d even added her own choreography. It consisted of tossing her head back and groping her tits at the end of every line, which was impressive as she was almost too drunk to stand.

  I leaned in when the old bartender slid our drinks across, raising my voice to be heard over the yowling cat on-stage. “When does Paul Eats the Hurricane go on?”

  He shook his head and barked, “Don’t you check the social media? Scheduling conflict, so they moved to next week. Tonight’s karaoke, otherwise, it’d be standing room only in here.”

  Goddammit.

  “Did you say Paul Eats the Hurricane?” Ari asked. “Is that really the name of the band?”

  I nodded, my shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yeah, the name’s out there, but you would have liked them. They’re a good mix of folk and alternative rock.”

  “But karaoke sounds fun too.”

  Holding Ari in my arms while the band played “Storms for Kings” sounded fun. Being forced to spend the evening listening to drunk and off-key renditions of every single one of Mariah Carey’s greatest hits sounded like my own personal hell.

  “Do you have a list of songs somewhere?” Ari asked the bartender before smiling up at me. “Isn’t this great?”

  I shook my head. “Ari, admit it. This is fucking awful, and we don’t have to stay. Trust me, these are not the people you want to hear singing. They couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

  Her mouth fell open. “But I can sing!”

  Shit.

  A jolt of something strange passed through my chest, similar to the feeling I got when we lost a game. It wasn’t just about the song. Music was her passion, and I’d just crapped all over it.

  “Anyone ever told you that you look like an uglier version of that baseball player?” The bartender accused with a scowl. “What’s his name—Reeves?”

  “Oh, my goodness. He really does,” Ari agreed with a laugh, not meeting my gaze. “What a funny coincidence!”

  He continued staring me down for a beat before directing her over to the stage. “Sweetheart, Pat’s got the binder down there. Just give him your name, and he’ll put you on the list.”

  When she turned back to me, I saw the hurt reflected in her eyes, leaving me feeling no better than Helen or that asshole, Brad. It was apparent she was preparing for me to say no, so I swallowed my pride and squeezed her shoulder.

  “Come on. Let’s go pick your song!”

  Ari’s eyes lit up. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious, slugger.”

  She was practically bouncing as she dragged me toward a small table near the back before going down to the stage. I kept my head down, hoping no one recognized my face in the dim lighting.

  Obscurity didn’t last, and I spent the next several minutes halfheartedly scribbling my signature while watching Ari flip through the binder of songs. Her face was a mask of concentration, softening as she leaned in to ask Pat a question.

  When he nodded in response, her mouth stretched into a wide grin, and she began clapping. I knew then I’d not only endure more Mariah Carey songs, but I’d also be willing to rip my own heart out if it made her happy.

  Ari returned to the table, trying and failing to contain her excitement. She was like Bailey when he was jacked up on energy drinks. Her knees bounced underneath the table, and she kept sneaking glances toward the stage.

  “What are you going to sing?” I asked, taking her hand in mine. “I don’t think anyone’s done ‘Fantasy’ yet.”

  “It’s not really in my vocal range.”

  “Christ.” I winced as the woman on stage butchered her way through ‘Heartbreaker’ while her date tried his hand at rapping Jay-Z’s lines. “I don’t think Mariah Carey’s in anyone’s vocal range, but it’s not stopping these people.”

  Ari gave a short burst of laughter before shaking her head. “Don’t worry, I’ll be singing one of my own songs.”

  “Really?” I gawked.

  “Yeah, really.” Her whole face lit up as she spoke over the noise. “You cheered me up tonight, maybe more than you even know. This is my way of saying thank you!”

  When they announced her name, my heart slammed against my ribs in a staccato rhythm. I studied her as she approached the microphone, no longer seeing the shy girl I’d met, but a woman who looked right at home on stage.

  “Hey,” she said with a breathless smile. “I’m Ari ,and I’d like to sing y’all a song.”

  It damn near made my teeth ache with how adorably sweet this girl was.

  Just like in a game, everything around me faded into the background as the opening bars began to play. I didn’t recognize the song, but it didn’t even matter once she opened her mouth.

  My jaw hung slack because Ari wasn’t just a good singer—she was a fucking phenomenon. Someone let out a whoop of approval, and I laughed, overcome by a random urge to hug everyone.

  There was a strange sense of camaraderie among the audience, a collective energy we all shared, thanks to her. When she reached the chorus, people began clapping, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. It wasn’t just her incredible voice.

  She was singing about me.

  The song was one you’d expect to hear at church—not an Irish pub—but the lyrics were familiar to me in a way I couldn’t explain. It was like Ari had taken what happened to me at the lake and set it to music, which was impossible as I’d only told her the story a little over a month ago.

  And even then, I hadn’t given her all the details. I thought I was completely crazy until Ari ended the song by repeating the phrase, “You are good.”

  I didn’t believe in signs or messages from above, but those three words hit me like a fastball to the heart, turning everything I thought I knew on its head.

  Tears stung my eyes, and I sucked in a breath, before joining the rest of the bar in giving my girl a standing ovation. She pushed her way through the crowd, accepting the compliments with a casual shrug and self-conscious blush.

  “Ta-da,” Ari exclaimed with a little bow as she reached the table. “What’d you think?”

  What did I think?

  Part of me was convinced she was the angel who’d saved my life. The other part was harder than granite and in the mood to do some very unreligious things to her. I didn’t usually find myself aroused when listening to music, but this song had left me with a sudden need to get her all alone.

  I locked a hand around her waist as someone else approached, growling, “Let’s go.”

  Ari shot worried glances my way as I hauled her out of the bar and down the sidewalk, but I didn’t trust myself to speak.

  Not yet.

  Not when my mind was currently traveling to some shocking places. Destinations involving sex up against the side of the building and matching last names. It was madness.

  We reached my truck. I unlocked it before opening the back door. “Get in.”

  Okay, there was a chance I sounded a little like Batman.

  Her eyes widened, but she gave me a shaky nod before sliding across the backseat. I joined her and slammed the door behind me, breathing heavily.

  “Killian?”

  Hearing the fear in her tone, I opened my eyes and lifted my head off the seat. “Do you have any idea how fucking amazing you are?”

  She exhaled softly. “Why do you look so mad?”

  “I’m not,” I said in a strangled voice, before turning away. “I’m fighting to keep from touching you right now.”

  “Why?” There was an innocence in her question that left me eager to provide a demonstration—to show her the effect she had on my body.

  “Because I haven’t been with a woman in over a year and I don’t—I don’t think I’ll be able to stop if I touch you. I need to be in control and right now…” I swallowed against the thickness in my throat. “I’m not.”

  “Oh. So, if I did this,” Ari whispered into the dark. The leather squeaked as she moved across the b
ench seat and settled on my lap, straddling my legs with hers. “Would this not be okay?”

  “Fuck.” My hands moved to grip her thighs. “Ari, please.”

  “Is it your knee?” she asked, her dress riding up around her hips as she shifted forward.

  “No,” I groaned. “But other parts of me are feeling a little… uh, confined at the moment.”

  Ari’s smile didn’t seem as innocent when her hands began moving over my chest. “Does it hurt here?”

  I shook my head. “Just give me—”

  “Maybe here?” She moaned as her hips bucked against my painfully hard dick, her breath warm against my neck as she whispered, “It’s okay. That’s where I hurt too.”

  With that, I released my hold on her thighs and tugged her dress up around her waist, giving myself permission to lose control.

  “What are you doing?”

  I returned her grin. “Consider this my way of saying thank you.”

  Ari’s fingers slipped into my hair, tugging my mouth up to meet hers. There was nothing slow and gentle about this kiss—we were both beyond reason.

  For a woman with limited experience, Ari was a quick study and seemed to know exactly what she was doing. She lightly bit down on my lip, before lapping at me with her tongue, just like I’d done with her at the aquarium.

  With a ragged pant, she straightened and reached down to where my hands were locked around her hips. “Touch me, Killian. Please.”

  I was sure there was probably a zipper or buttons on her dress but was too impatient to look for them. Instead, I bunched it into my fists before dragging it up under her arms. “Hold it. I wanna look at you.”

  Ari complied, biting down on her lip as I leaned back to drink in the sight of her on top of me. There was just enough streetlight for me to see that my girl really was covered by nothing more than scraps of lace.

  “Yes,” she hissed softly as I cupped her breast in my palm, stroking the material with the pad of my thumb until her nipple strained to break free.