Through The Water: Fairest Series Book Two

by Myers, Shannon

  I nodded and told Bailey to be safe before taking his seat up front. “So, sober rides—didn’t know you did that sort of thing.”

  He waited until Bailey made it inside before pulling out. “Yeah, going on three years now.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. Joe and I didn’t usually waste time with small talk. He often started with the laundry list of things I’d done wrong. Then we went our separate ways.

  No muss, no fuss.

  “Did you get my message?” He cut his eyes over to me. “I called after your mama told me you’d gotten the contract with the Hurricanes. She was really excited, as you should be. It’s a huge accomplishment, son.”

  “Uh, thanks?” I squinted in his direction, no longer sure who was in the driver’s seat. It damn sure wasn’t my father. Reed men didn’t stop to look back at their accomplishments. It was all about pushing on to the next.

  At least, it used to be.

  Without Bailey around to provide entertainment, we fell back into an uncomfortable silence that neither of us seemed capable of breaking.

  The click of the turn signal pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced up to see we’d reached my condo. “Hey, uh, thanks for the ride and—”

  “Can I come up?” he asked suddenly, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. “I mean, you’ve got the crutches. I could help. But if you’d rather I not—”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said automatically, swallowing down my fear. “Just leave the car keys with the valet.”

  On the elevator ride up, Joe stared down at his sneakers. Meanwhile, I tried to recall the last time I’d seen him in anything other than a suit. If he felt me staring a hole into the side of his head, he didn’t let on.

  “I just realized I’ve never even seen your condo,” he commented to his shoelaces.

  “Really?” It surprised me as his real estate firm had brokered the deal. Thinking back on it, though, I realized he was right. The doors opened, and I straightened before leading the way. “Well, I’ll have to give you the grand tour.”

  He followed me inside, almost immediately zeroing in on the unpacked suitcase lying open in the middle of the living room. I waited for the reprimand, but he walked right past it to inspect the large glass windows overlooking the city.

  “Killian, this view—”

  I stepped up beside him. “Worth every penny, because you can change the paint—”

  He tilted his head to face me, frowning slightly. “But you can’t change the view. You remembered.”

  “Hey,” I barked a laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “Give me at least a little credit. I listen… sometimes.”

  I waited for a chuckle, or at the very least, a smirk, but my father looked like he was on the verge of tears. He slowly backed away from the window and dropped onto the nearby leather sectional with a heavy sigh.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks now,” he said quietly, pulling at the cuff of his long-sleeved Hurricanes t-shirt.

  When we were arguing, it had been easy to miss the lines on his face and the gray in his hair. Looking at him now, I was forced to admit he wasn’t getting any younger.

  It seemed like such a waste that we’d spent years at each other’s throats, each of us convinced that we knew better than the other.

  “Look, Dad,” I began, but he stopped me, patting the cushion beside his.

  “Come here. Let’s talk.”

  Typically, those last two words would have sent me spiraling into a state of defensive anger, but this was different. There was something in his voice that told me he was just as tired of fighting as I was, so I leaned my crutches against the wall and joined him.

  “When you didn’t return my calls or texts, I considered showing up to the rehab facility and forcing you to see me.” He grimaced and shook his head. “But that’s what got us into this mess—me, forcing you to do things my way.”

  I shifted my jaw back and forth with a nod. “We never really talked much.”

  “You’re right. We spent most of our time yelling. And I can’t say I blame you for ignoring me. Our relationship is what it is because of the way I’ve treated you.”

  I gaped, completely blindsided by the admission.

  “Tonight, while driving you home, it struck me that you’re not a kid anymore, and I don’t know anything about your life beyond what your mama tells me.” He held up his hand. “Now, don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying that to start an argument. You’re close to her, and I respect that. She shielded you from so much the first twelve years of your life. But you knew—I saw it in the way you looked at me when she’d let me come home.”

  “Wasn’t enough to stop you from doing it again, though, was it?” I asked, feeling the old bitterness and hurt seeping into my voice.

  He stared through the flat screen on the wall, to a past I’d tried to forget. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “I’d swear every time was the last time, but then something would happen, and I couldn’t cope. I’d take off and leave your mother and you to fend for yourselves.”

  I tugged my hands through my hair. “You do remember I was there, right? You can skip the recap, I’m well aware of how it went down.”

  “Yeah?” He sniffed, mashing his lips into a thin line. “What about your twelfth birthday—you remember that? Because I do. Coming off a three-day bender in the middle of a goddamned tropical storm. I wanted nothing more than to get home to you, but your mama refused—rightfully so, I might add—said I had to get professional help.”

  “She told me you had a conference out of town that you couldn’t get out of,” I said softly, picking at the edge of my knee brace with my thumbnail.

  His face fell, but he jerked his chin in a nod. “Better than I deserved, but that’s your mama. No, I’d hit rock bottom. Woke up on a park bench without a wallet and just wandered the city, trying to sober up. When the storm hit, the streets began to flood. I remembered there was this televangelist with a church nearby—thought for sure they’d take me in.”

  Something like empathy struck me in the chest as I considered the humiliation he must have felt. “And did they?”

  He forced a laugh before shaking his head. “Never even made it past the gate. When they threatened to have me arrested, I left. At that point, the water had risen to my calves, and I just wanted it to be over. And then she appeared—”

  “Who?”

  “At first glance, I thought she was an angel. The streetlights, they hit her red hair in such a way that it almost looked like a halo. And her eyes were the most vibrant shade of green, but the color wasn’t what made them striking, it was the way they seemed to see past my flaws.”

  He shook his head slowly as if still in disbelief. That made two of us. My mouth had been hanging open for a solid ten seconds, but I was too shocked to speak. The woman sounded just like Ari, which was impossible because she would have been a child back then.

  “I told her about you—”

  “What—why?”

  His gaze softened as it moved over my face. “Because that woman looked at me like maybe she saw someone worth saving and I couldn’t help but think of you, spending your birthday without your father. I told her I wanted to get home—to be the kind of dad you deserved.” He exhaled a bitter laugh. “Well, can’t win ‘em all, can you?”

  “You weren’t a bad father—you were just—” I struggled to find the right word, something that only seemed to make his smile stretch higher.

  “An asshole? It’s okay, I can take it.”

  “No,” I disagreed with a shake of my head. “It’s like, when you were drinking, you loved to make people laugh. And then you sobered up, and you weren’t that same person anymore. You were closed-off.”

  “I thought if I lived by the rules, it’d make up for the time we lost…” His words trailed off as he stared off into the void again.

  “But it wasn’t just you,” I argued, tightening my hands into fists. “You put all th
at shit on me. Reed men do this, and Reed men don’t do that. Hell, even when it came to baseball, there was always some way I could have been better!”

  He flinched at my raised voice before taking a deep breath. “I was like you with baseball. It was the one thing that always made sense to me and kept me sane. When I lost it, I spiraled. It was like I didn’t know who I was anymore. When I got sober, I thought it fell to me to keep you from making the same mistake. Instead, it just pushed you away.”

  I studied my father’s profile, seeing myself. The similarities ran deeper than physical traits. He and I were like two halves of a coin—forever on opposite sides yet made of the same stuff.

  Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence the woman he’d described reminded me of Ari.

  Maybe it took a certain kind of woman to make men like us want to be better.

  Sensing my stare, he glanced over to me with a wry smile. “You’ve got that look in your eyes—it’s the same one you have when you’re up at the plate, trying to read the pitcher. Does this have anything to do with that broken heart Conor mentioned? Or are you just trying to decide where to sock your old man?”

  I rubbed my eyes as thoughts of Ari took over again. My buzz and what remained of my resolve had worn off sometime during the car ride home, but Bailey’s impromptu sermon was like an energy drink, bouncing off the walls of my brain. “He gets a few too many in him and—you know what? Doesn’t matter.”

  He stretched out, placing his feet up on the coffee table and settling against the back of the couch. “I know I’m not your teammate or your mama, but I’m a good listener, and I’ve got all night.”

  I shook my head. “Nah, it’s not worth getting into again. I just need to sleep it off. In the morning, I’ll be good as new.”

  The side of his mouth tugged up into another grin. “I see. So, what is it that’s holding you back from this girl?”

  “What makes you think something is holding me back? It didn’t work out. Game over.” I sounded like Bailey when he’d been describing his one-night stand.

  My father laughed to himself. “If there wasn’t something standing in your way, you would’ve been out with her, not Conor.”

  “It’s not like—” My nostrils stung in warning, but I clenched my jaw and shook my head, fighting to keep it together.

  “Killian.” He cupped the side of my head in his palm. “Let me in—not because I deserve it, but because you do. I bottled up my emotions for too long, afraid you’d see me as weak. But sometimes, the strongest thing we can do is make ourselves vulnerable. So, you wanna cry? Cry. You wanna punch something? I’ll grab you a pillow. But, for the love of God, be better than me, son.”

  With that, the wound in my chest tore open. I didn’t fight it, letting the pain and grief strip me down to nothing.

  Only this time, I wasn’t forced to go through it alone.

  My father’s arms came around me, holding me through the broken sentences and soul-crushing sobs that made up my story. Eventually, my words and tears tapered off in a rough exhale. We were left with silence. He stayed quiet for so long that I’d started to doze, only to jerk myself awake when he finally spoke.

  “What is it you want?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted as I pulled away.

  He nodded. “Yeah, you do. I look at you, and I see a kid who’s never settled for anything in his life. Remember those exercises we used to do before your games in high school?”

  “Dad, no,” I pleaded, running a hand across my eyes. “I’m not visualizing—”

  “Close your eyes.” His lips pressed into a thin line. I obeyed, but only because I was too tired to argue.

  Closing my eyes… playing in the limes—what did a man have to do to get some real advice around here?

  “Here it is—five years from now, the Hurricanes have just won game seven of the World Series. You’re standing on the field, surrounded by your teammates and reporters, but you’re not looking at them. You’re looking up into the seats. Who are you waiting for? Who’s rushing down to the field to get to you?”

  I envisioned it—the deafening roar of the crowd, the stadium lights shining down on me, and a flash of red hair moving through waves of people. The woman who saw the man beneath the player.

  “Ari,” I whispered as I turned back to him. “It’s only ever been Ari.”

  “You’ve never wanted something handed to you. Even when you knew it would be harder, you wanted to earn it yourself. Why should this be any different? If you can visualize it, you can make it happen. But first, you need a plan.”

  18

  Ariana

  “He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”

  -Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

  “This isn’t going to work.”

  “What do you mean?” I checked my reflection and adjusted the baseball cap again, avoiding the dark circles and translucent skin that begged for some attention. “We have a plan. We’re sticking to the plan.”

  When Tsega had offered her help, it seemed she’d been under the assumption I needed clothes and some cash—not an accomplice in a covert operation involving aliases and seedy motel rooms.

  Clearly, I was the criminal mastermind of our little group.

  I tightened one of my pigtails and, feeling the weight of her glare, turned with a sigh. “What? Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now.”

  On Saturdays, True North offered field trips into the city for patients who met specific criteria. Now that I was almost exclusively walking, Natalie had cleared me to attend.

  But I had no intention of returning.

  I’d wanted someone to save me, but ghost Ashlynn had been right. Only I could save me.

  “Do I need to remind you I’ve been against this plan of yours since day one? Ariana, you’re not ready.”

  Tsega paced the room, listing the cons on her fingers. “One, you won’t have access to your medication—medication you absolutely need, I might add. Two, the money won’t last forever, and you won’t be able to get a job using a fake name. Three—and this is a big one—you can run across the world if you want, but you won’t be able to escape your feelings.”

  Dammit.

  My heart sank, but the time for falling apart had passed. So maybe I’d spent the last ten days wallowing in my misery like a pig in the mud—it didn’t mean I was broken.

  Perhaps I wasn’t the embodiment of health and wellness, but I was still breathing, wasn’t I?

  “Anything else?” I managed not to roll my eyes. Between her and Georgia, I wasn’t sure whose lectures were worse. For two women who’d pushed me to take a stand, they’d had a surprisingly negative response to my plan to run.

  “Yeah, there is actually,” she said, matching my defiant tone. “The aquarium is a lot of fun. I think you might be pleasantly surprised.”

  “I highly doubt that,” I muttered under my breath as we walked down to the bank of elevators.

  Tsega tightened her grip on my arm before leaning in to whisper, “I heard that. It’d be a shame if you missed the field trip and had to stay in your room for the rest of the day.”

  “What are you, my mother?” I hissed. “You’re supposed to support me on this—what happened to not fighting alone?”

  She faked a smile as someone passed us in the hall, dropping it as soon as they were out of sight. “There’s fighting back, and then there’s suicide. I’ll let you guess which one your plan falls under. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

  I tried not to feel sorry for myself on the ride down to the lobby, but it wasn’t easy when nothing in my life was going according to plan.

  As if it wasn’t bad enough that I woke every morning to the memory of his kiss, Killian’s ghost refused to vacate the dang building. I was being haunted by the familiar squ
eak of crutches. When my heart realized the truth, I’d been forced to relive the loss of him all over again.

  He wasn’t coming back.

  It was time to come to terms with the fact that the feelings I’d developed were one-sided. But, as Tsega and Georgia were currently thwarting my every attempt at moving on, I didn’t see the harm in allowing myself an extra couple of days to be sad.

  No need to rush my grief.

  By the time we stepped off the elevator, I was making a mental list on the benefits of using shower wailing as a form of therapy.

  Therefore, I didn’t immediately respond to my name being spoken. It wasn’t until Tsega squeezed my bicep that I shelved the idea of pitching it to the facility’s psychologists, and reluctantly returned to reality.

  “Aren’t you glad you decided to take my advice?” she whispered with a smug grin.

  “That’s not been officially decided…” My words cut off abruptly as I registered the movement.

  Killian was crossing the lobby, his icy blue eyes holding me captive. As he wasn’t passing through people, I could only assume that this time, he wasn’t a figment of my imagination.

  I tried straightening to meet his piercing gaze, only to suck in a strangled breath. The nest of birds had gathered around my heart, poking and prodding it to take a leap right out of my chest. Anything to be near him.

  He didn’t feel the same way I did, and his sudden reappearance didn’t change that. He was probably just here to sign some papers or grab a sandwich because he missed the cafeteria’s food.

  While I tried rationalizing his presence, my heart was busy working through a slew of new tricks like a well-trained puppy.

  Roll over.

  Sit up and beg.

  Play dead.

  This did nothing in the way of calming my nerves. I released a ragged exhale, completely winded just by the sight of him.

  Tsega disentangled herself from my grip and pushed me toward him with a decidedly unprofessional snort. “You’re welcome.”