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I nod. “Me too. And then…before he went to sleep—for thelasttime—he asked me…” I blow out a shaky exhale. “He asked me to take him home.”

“Home,” Lachlan echoes.

I manage another nod. “He said to take him back to the loch. That he wanted to see it one last time. I’d heard the story a hundred times growing up—I knew exactly which one he meant. Obviously, I never got to bringhimback, but I just thought…I thought he would like knowing that it would be his final resting place.”

I catch a glimpse of Lachlan hanging his head beside me, and I can’t help but twist mine to take him in. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I was a real arse that day I found you.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I didn’t, but still. I could have been better. I heard who you were, and I just—”

“You didn’t trust me.”

He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t.”

I can’t help it—the question bubbles up inside without my permission, so violent that I physicallycan’thold it back.

“Do you trust me now?”

He looks up at me, his eyes holding mine, an intensity in them that makes me hot all over in a way that has nothing to do with how he’s touching me and yeteverythingto do with how he’s touching me. I notice his gaze dip to my mouth, and I feel my lips part, because it’s insanity to even entertain it—isn’t it?

“Aye,” he half whispers. “I think I do, Keyanna.”

The rain is still falling outside, but there’s a roaring in my ears. I can feel the heaviness of my chest with each rise and fall, feel the thumping of my pulse in my throat, and I notice the second he starts to lean in, looking as hypnotized as I feel. The heat in my skin feels alive, climbing higher and higher, my fingers tingling and my palmsburning, but he’s soclose.One more second, one more inch, and we’ll—

“Fuckin’ hell,” Lachlan shouts suddenly, his accent thicker than usual as he jolts away.

I blink, trying to discern what happened—and then I feel it.

“Shit!”

The straw beneath us has been set aflame, the fire small but growing. I try to pat it out with my hand, beating at the smoking lump incessantly.

“Key,” Lachlan says incredulously. “It’syou.”

And that’s when I notice.

The fire is coming from my fuckinghand.

I panic, shooting up and shaking my hand frantically as if I can somehow put it out. “What do I do?” I give it another frenetic shake. “Lachlan, what do I—” I go still even as Lachlan starts to stomp out the crackling straw with his boot. I stare at my palm, where a tiny flicker has formed, resting in the cradle of my hand, and I realize: “It doesn’t hurt.”

He stops smashing the small flames below with his shoe, peering at the one in my palm with a slack-jawed expression.

“How long have you been able to do that?”

“Um…” I roll my hand this way and that, watching the flame roll with it. “Just now?”

“Jesus suffering fuck,” he breathes, running a hand through his hair.

I close my fist, astonished when doing so extinguishes the flame. “Wow.”

“That’s a lot more than blowing open a window,” he notes.

“What do you think it means?”

“I think…” He blows out a breath. “I think it means we need to hurry and find some fucking answers.”