Page 40 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

Chapter thirty-two

Eliana

Killian’s alarm goes off, and I open my eyes to find him already awake. His gaze is contemplative, and his lips taught like he’s holding himself back.

He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, and my heart thuds in my chest. I think he’s about to kiss me again, and I couldn’t refuse him this time because I want it. I want him so badly it hurts.

“I’ve never seen you so relaxed before,” he says.

I blink confused for a second.

“Are they quiet when you sleep?” he asks.

“I think so. They at least let me go to sleep,” I mutter.

His leg is tossed over mine, and I’m almost completely cocooned within his warm body. His expression is tight, and I start to ask him what’s going through his head, then he says, “I wish you had told me about Wyatt sooner,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how.”

“You tell me, baby, that’s it. You’re not responsible for my emotions or how I respond to difficult things.”

He just called me baby.

“I know, but I felt bad.”

“You have nothing to feel bad about. But it makes me wonder what Wyatt’s actual intentions are,” he says.

I frown. “What do you mean, like he killed those women?” I ask.

His body stiffens. “I don’t know. I can’t believe he would. It’s too hard for me to even consider.”

“Then don’t consider it.”

“But what I can’t piece together is how I supposedly know the killer. Who else would it be?” he asks.

It makes sense, and I can’t say I disagree either. “The Spirits aren’t always accurate.”

We heard that child.

We tell you what we are given.

“Yes, well you also withhold,” I mutter.

Killian tilts his head, and the Spirits all talk at once, making my headache grow.

What we told you is true.

“It may be, but it’s not detailed.”

We were not given enough details to give them to you.

“My point exactly.”

“What are they saying?” Killian asks.

I lift a shoulder and toss myself back onto the bed. “They tell me things that they are given, but that doesn’t mean they don’t withhold details. They claim it’s because they don’t have enough details to give.”

Killian’s thumb rubs over my hipbone, and I hate how comforting it is.

I shouldn’t be in this bed. I shouldn’t have listened when he asked me to stay, but he needed someone last night, and I happened to be here.

And though I’ll never admit it, I like being needed by him because I find myself feeling the same way.

We found peace in each other last night, so maybe it wasn’t chance at all.

We’re towing a line I believe he’s ready to cross, but I can’t. My fear is this all gets worse, and it means I could lose him, and I don’t think I could handle more grief. I’m in enough pain as it is.

“God tells them?” he asks.

“There were seers in the Bible. There have been all throughout history. God used them to communicate with His people. Grams believed I’m a more modern version of one. She’s probably right, always was.”

Then, the air is sucked out of my lungs. For a moment, lying here with Killian, I forgot. And I don’t know if it hurts more to remember all at once, or feel guilty for forgetting. How could I forget?

A tear slips down my cheek, and I nearly jump out of my skin as Killian wipes it away. I fell so deep into the well of grief; I forgot he was there.

“Eliana?”

A fresh wave of sorrow engulfs me, and I can’t speak, my throat too tight to form words. As if he knows exactly what this feeling is like, he pulls me into him, and I cry. Out of guilt, anger, and fear that I will forget her like I’ve begun to forget everyone else.

I haven’t been to see her either. What kind of granddaughter does that make me?

A terrible one.

You are not. You know she wants you to move on.

I ignore the Spirits.

“You can talk to me,” he says.

I still can’t speak. I can’t look at him either. I’m afraid it might make me cry harder.

“Mornings were always the toughest for me,” he says as he rubs my back.

“If I slept well the night before, which wasn’t often when he first died, then I felt guilty, like I didn’t deserve it because he was gone.

I should be mourning him every second of the day, awake or asleep.

I’m aware that makes no sense. But it’s how I felt.

Then when I woke up, it would all come rushing back, and the cycle started over again. ”

His hand pauses on my back, and I regard him.

“You don’t have to feel guilty if you don’t think about her for a few minutes of the day.

Based on what I’ve learned about her, she would want you to be happy, Eliana.

She wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for living. I learned that the hard way,” he says.

“I know she’s happier. She’s in a better place. I know that, but it still feels like I’m being stabbed in the heart with every beat,” I tell him.

Killian moves his hand to my face, cupping my cheek, and leans in.

I dodged him last night, and if I kissed him, it would send too many mixed signals, mainly to me. That’s not fair to either of us. But I wonder what it would be like to be all of his, for him to be all of mine. I’ve never had that before.

He lifts up and presses his lips tenderly to my forehead, lingering as if he’s telling himself it will be all he ever gets. Then he kisses each cheek, melting my stone walls from the inside out.

My eyes burn again, tears threaten, and the ache radiating from him sinks into me, compounding on top of the guilt, the sadness, the loneliness, the anger, the fear.

I don’t want to be scared about what’s happening around us, but I am.

I’ve had to fake bravery for most of my life, ignoring everyone who has alienated me out of fear because they refused to get to know me.

It’s becoming too much for a human to bear.

So lay it down, child.

I pin my lips together. I can’t break this moment.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on mine. “One day at a time. Then that day will turn into a week. Those weeks turn into months. I wish I could say it got easier. But it hasn’t for me, but the pain changes.”

“It’s all too much, Killian,” I whisper.

“I know,” he sighs.

“One day, maybe it will become an ache you can live with, you know? It will always be there, but it becomes almost bearable.”

“Why do you care?” I rasp over the sand in my throat.

His chest rises and falls deeply while my heart feels like it’s beating too hard. Not many people have ever cared about me. So why him? Why now? Is it because we were pulled together by outside circumstances that neither of us could control?

“I know…” he trails off trying to come up with words. “You said you were meant to find me. I didn’t believe it at first, but I do now. For me, there is no other option. We will get through this. All of it. Okay?” he asks, searching my eyes.

I nod against him, and he wraps me up in his arms again.

My soul sighs, content to be held in his protective arms.

It loosens a knot in my heart, one that’s been there for a while, long before Grams died.