Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
He moved quickly, his strides long and purposeful, eyes flickering down to me every handful of seconds as I tried to regain even breathing.
“You’re okay,” he murmured every few seconds. “I love you.”
“I love you,” I rasped as he ascended the stairs up to the cottage.
I’d heard those stories about mothers getting an adrenaline rush when their kids were pinned under a car or something, and then Mum suddenly got strong enough to lift the car. Maybe that’s what this was.
Kip was plenty strong already, but I wasn’t sure he could’ve carried me nine months pregnant up some pretty steep stairs after killing a man if there weren’t some kind of chemical magic going through his veins.
He wasn’t even breathing heavily when we made it back to the deck. The doors were still open, and I could see where a barstool must’ve fallen at some point. My house felt odd now, changed somehow.
I made a mental note not to let him haunt this place. I’d hire an exorcist, burn sage, do whatever the fuck I needed to do to keep this place mine.
Kip laid me gently on the outdoor furniture, kneeling between my legs.
“Fiona,” he whispered, eyes burning with worry. With absolute terror.
Then I realized what he’d seen. He’d seen someone drowning his pregnant wife.
It started hitting me that that’s what I had been through. My ex-husband turned up here to kill me. I’d almost died. We’d almost died.
I started trembling.
Kip’s hand was on my stomach, the other on my chest, as if he had to remind himself that my heart was beating.
I covered his hand with mine. “I’m okay,” I told him.
The baby kicked his hand. He jerked, obviously feeling it. “She’s okay too.”
His brows pinched. “We’re going to the hospital.”
“Of course, we are,” I replied, my breathing finally returning to normal but my mouth still tasting of seawater and death.
Kip gaped at me in shock. “You’re not arguing.”
“Dude, my ex almost drowned me,” I said. “And I’m nine months pregnant. I’m stubborn but not that stubborn.”
He glowered and gripped me harder. “That is the first and last time we’re gonna be joking about you almost being taken from this world.”
I felt immediately guilty. Kip was strong. Exceptionally so. Strong enough to race through the ocean and literally end the life of a man who had been trying to kill me. He was strong enough to scoop me into his arms, carry me soaking wet across a beach and up some serious stairs, but that was a different kind of strength. He was fraying at the seams, being tugged at by a different reality. One he’d already lived.
I sat myself up, and Kip rushed to help me so I could press my forehead against his.
“It’s a lot harder than that to get rid of me, I promise,” I told him. “I’m not going anywhere, buddy. I’ve got a whole life to live.” I placed my hand on top of his on my stomach. “We’ve got a life to live.”
“This is my fault,” he said, tone clipped, haunted and full of guilt. A similar kind of guilt that coated his words when he talked about his wife and daughter.
“This is not your fault,” I said firmly, my voice still scratchy.
He ran his hand through his hair as if he wanted to tear it out. “It is,” he argued. “When I found out what he did to you, I wanted to kill him. But I couldn’t leave you. Wouldn’t leave you. I also couldn’t let him live a life of fucking comfort knowing what he’d taken from you.” Fury leeched from his words, as though Emmet were still here, as though Kip hadn’t just killed him.
He had killed him, hadn’t he? He’d snapped his neck. I’d heard it.
“I fucked with his business,” Kip continued. “Ruined his life, because I am still that fucking man. I’m still that fucking man that needs blood, needs to destroy. And I almost destroyed my whole fucking world.”
“Hey,” I said softly, grabbing onto him. “No. You didn’t almost do anything. I’m here. She’s here. Emmet isn’t. And I know it’s not something a good person would say, but I’m glad he isn’t. I’m glad you ruined his life. That he took his last breath knowing he lost. Knowing I was still here. I was yours.” I took his hand and placed it on my belly. “We are yours.”
His eyes searched mine as if looking for an anchor. I tried my best to give it to him. He’d saved me out in the ocean. Now I had to save him from himself. His past.
There was a motion beside us, and I blinked at the black shape making its way toward us.
“Boo!” I cried, moving just enough so the cat could crawl between us, breaking the moment in that careless way only cats could.