Page 46 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

Chapter thirty-six

Eliana

Booted feet click down the stairs, waking me, and I sit up pushing hair out of my face.

I slept soundly last night. The weight of yesterday returns to my chest, but a little part of me is lighter because Killian finally kissed me.

He said what has been sitting on my heart for a while, and I’m giddy about it.

Wondering what Killian is up to, I roll out of bed and down the stairs.

He’s standing in front of the sink, dressed in nice jeans, a tucked shirt, and polished cowboy boots. His ear-length hair is brushed back from his face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

He turns slowly with an empty mug in his hand, and a face full of heartbreak.

“I was going to go to church. You know Dad was the pastor, but I haven't been able to go for a year. I woke up this morning and felt like I should, but … I can’t get past a cup of coffee.” His voice breaks, and he rubs his face, as if he’s trying to hide his grief.

I need to make up my mind about where we stand, but I know he needs a hug.

He’d never ask me for it, but my body is screaming to comfort him.

As we grow closer, it feels as if we are starting to sense the smallest things about each other.

It’s at the same time a comfort to know someone sees you, and hazardous for my heart.

My feet brush the warm wood floor, and I wrap arms around his waist, resting my head on his chest. His arms hang out in the air, and I hear the mug clunk on the counter before his thick arms hug me back.

We stand there for a while, soaking each other in, and I hope it helps him. “I’ll go with you,” I whisper.

The thought of stepping foot in the last place I saw her face during her wake makes me want to vomit, but I will. I’ll do it for him, but for me too because it would make Grams happy to know I tried.

“You’d do that?” he whispers.

“Yes,” I say and lean back to look him in the eye. “I used to go with Grams. We went more consistently before she got sick,” I tell him.

He frowns. “Why didn’t I ever see you?”

“We usually sat in the back, and I slipped out as quickly as I could. Large groups of people can make things hard for me.”

“But won’t that happen if we go?” he asks.

“It’s okay, I want to go. I think I need to.”

A serious expression sits on his face, and he leans forward, pressing his warm lips to my forehead.

“Give me ten, and I’ll be ready.”

He releases me, and I run up the stairs, grabbing one of my few dresses, and push a brush through my hair. I grab my nicer pair of brown cowboy boots with a snip toe and run back down the stairs.

“You didn’t have to go that fast,” he says with a small smile.

I shrug and grab a cup of coffee. “It doesn’t take me long to get ready.”

He stares at me with heat in his eyes, and I can feel my body flush under his gaze. I picked a light green checkered dress I made with a square neck and straps that tie into bows.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

“Thank you.”

When we slip in the back, Pastor Beckett is already at the pulpit.

The church is small, it’s the only one in town.

When I came with Grams after my change. People looked at me strangely, but Killian’s father never did.

We spoke briefly, but he always treated me with kindness.

He told me people are afraid of things they struggle to understand.

I know he was talking about me, but he never questioned the Spirits, and I always appreciated him for it.

Killian’s hand rests on my thigh, and I put my hand over his. I think we both need the encouragement. At least the Spirits are at a low hum. I don’t have a headache growing.

Before service finishes, he takes my hand and tugs us out the back. “I’d go to church by myself, even though Dad was the pastor, but for some reason I’ve tied this place to him, and I didn’t think I could step foot in there again,” he says opening the passenger door to the truck for me.

“It’s almost painful how things you used to do with someone you love are linked with grief when they die,” he says.

“Even if they’re good things, they feel tainted,” I mutter.

He jerks back. “Yeah, and they shouldn’t be, but they are.”

“It’s always the things you’d never expect.”

Killian grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth. “Thank you for coming with me today,” he says and presses his lips on my knuckles.

“You’re welcome,” I rasp over the tightness in my throat.

I miss her so damn much.

“Let’s stop at your place and check on things,” he says.

I nod because I can’t speak, and I was planning on asking him to do that anyway.

We ride in silence across town to my house, and my stomach twists tighter as we get closer.

I didn’t realize the break away from my house, my Grams’ house, was relieving for me.

Every inch of space, inside and out, reminds me of her.

It didn’t matter because I had nowhere else to go.

Now that I’ve been away, even for a short time, it hurts.

He pulls into the driveway, and I force myself out and head for the front porch. Nothing looks out of place, but I hesitantly open the door. A burst of herbs fills my nose, and I sigh. I need to get these things done.

I feel Killian coming up behind me and look over my shoulder.

“You can go back to the ranch if you want. I’m going to be here for a while,” I tell him.

His hand clasps my hip and gently pushes me forward. “I’ll be right here,” he says.

I flip the sign that I’m open and hope maybe I can get a few customers. While I work, Killian finds a book, and makes a fresh pot of coffee.

Grams’s work apron hangs next to mine, and I stare at it for a moment. It’s a thick canvas, stained over the years, but well worn and softened with time. I drag my finger over the fabric and reach for mine.

Donning it, I work on draining tinctures, mixing teas, melting salves.

I restock some of the emptier shelves. Lottie comes in for a tincture to help her husband’s gout, and I don’t miss the look of surprise with Killian sitting in the corner drinking his coffee and reading his book.

He’s kind of like a guard dog. But I like it.

She thanks me and leaves. I scoop mixed goat’s milk lotion into amber color jars, and a young woman comes in for a tincture to help her infant son’s toothaches. “I hope this helps. If not, come back. I have a few other ideas we can try,” I tell her.

“Thank you,” she says and leaves.

The hurt in my heart dulls a little because I finally had some customers. Maybe people are realizing that I might never be as great as my Grams, but I was taught by her. I can help heal people too.

I glance at Killian again and find him looking at me with a small smile on his lips.

The look in his eyes makes me feel that excitement when flowers bloom from the first buds of the season, or the smell of rain after a dry spell.

I like it when I find him staring at me.

No one has ever looked at me the way he does.

My tongue wets my lips, and his eyes spark.

“I’m done here for the day. But I need to check out back.”

I flip the sign closed and make a written sign for my new hours that work for Killian and me because he refuses to leave me here by myself.

I step outside in bare feet, and the warm breeze pushes my skirt back. Relief courses through me, and I feel like all my hard edges of grief are softening to acceptance.

The sun warms my skin as I walk through my herbs to the fruit trees. Grams and I planted peach trees, since they’re my favorite, but it will probably be another year until they are producing.

Killian and I water everything, and my last stop is the flower garden. The roses are growing strong, and my shoulders lighten.

The flowers I grow for myself are bursting with color and life. I smile and snip a ranunculus.

“Everything good over here?” Killian asks.

I hum and drag my finger over the small petal of a dahlia. Cutting a few more, I place them on the ground while I build a bouquet. Flowers make me happy, but I’ve been so busy I’ve barely had time to pay attention to them.

“Why are you standing there?” I ask him.

He grins. “Just watching.”

I roll my eyes in jest, and he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I don’t know how you manage to keep getting more beautiful, but you do,” he says, dropping his hand from my face to rub the back of his neck.

“You thrive in this,” he says.

I grab another marigold. “When I was young, I didn’t appreciate all of what we do.

It felt like an obligation. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned this is my calling.

Yes, this is part of the Greer legacy, but every time I have my feet in the dirt, my hands on nature, the world doesn’t hurt so much. ”

“There aren’t many places or people that have ever felt like that for me.” I meet his eyes, wondering if he catches my double meaning.

And I think he does as he grabs my chin and kisses me so sweetly I’m like a bee to honey. I want him to take charge. I want him to tell me what he wants, and I want to give it to him.

When he pulls back, he leans his dewy forehead against mine and releases my chin.

What’s growing between us is overwhelming, and confusing.

I’m not saying I love him because it would be far too fast to fall in love with someone you hardly know, even if you’ve lived mere miles from him your entire life. But Grams and Grandpa did.

The time between them didn’t matter because they knew. She told me she could feel it in her bones, but it wasn’t love at first sight. He asked her out. She said no. He asked her again, and the moment he held her hand, she told me it shocked her.

“What are you thinking about right now, little witch?” he asks, straightening.

Doubt creeps in, and I take a stuttered, breath afraid to be honest, and oddly afraid not to be.

What if he changes his mind? What if I let him in and then he walks away?

I wonder if that might hurt more because it would be his choice.

It wouldn’t be because God said it was his time.

It would be because he doesn’t want me anymore.

There’s been enough people around me that want nothing to do with me.

If I actually let him in, then … can I live through that?

Could I survive more heartbreak? My chest tightens, and the pressure bleeds into my shoulders.

The sun beats on my back, and I look up at Killian, and his focus is totally, and completely on me. He wants an answer.

Deep down I know the answer, but I’m not ready to say it.

He drags a thumb over my lower lip. “You know where I stand. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Then he turns, walking down the rows of mint and lavender. I stare at his broad back, and my feet itch to move, to go to him. He said he would wait. He said he would be there for me. He’s done everything he said he would, and more. That has to mean something.

Dropping my shears and flower, I run after him.

I leap onto his back, and he huffs, catching himself and me before I take us both to the ground.

He chuckles, sliding his hands under my thighs so I’m riding piggyback.

I kiss his sweaty neck.

“What’s all this?” he asks.

“I—” The words get caught in my throat.

Killian moves me to his front like I’m a small child, even though I weigh significantly more than one. The corner of his mouth tips up in an almost smile, and my soul feels like it’s blooming, and Killian is the sun it needed.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

My heart thumps erratically, but my soul screams, yes. Even the Spirits are quiet.

I take his hat off his head and drop it onto mine.

“Yes.”