Page 95 of Third Strike Smitten

“He was.” The words come out hoarse as I swipe at the tears that slide down my cheeks. I’ve spent years perfecting the art of casual delivery when talking about my father’s death, but with Killian, the walls I once built now feel flimsy and insufficient.

“I’m sorry, Isla,” Killian says, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of my hand.

I swallow hard, blinking back more tears that threaten to fall. “It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t make it hurt less,” Killian says quietly, his hand squeezing mine. “Time doesn’t really heal that kind of wound. It just teaches you how to carry it.”

“Yeah…” His words hit me right in the chest. I turn to look at him, surprised by his understanding. “That’s exactly right.”

We fall silent again, but this time the quiet feels different. More intimate. Like we’ve crossed some invisible line between us. I allow myself to close my eyes and breathe through the quiet stillness of the night. Several long minutes go by before I hear Killian’s voice again.

“You asleep, Coach?”

“Nope.”

“What are you doing?”

“Existing,” I reply, my gaze now fixed on the stars above us, searching for the one that could be my dad’s.

“That’s not a thing,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I let out a watery chuckle, grateful for his attempt to lighten the moment. “It is. Maybe you just need more practice at it.”

He turns his head toward me, and even in the dim light, I can see the curiosity in his expression. “What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. “I mean, we spend so much of our lives doing, achieving, moving from one thing to the next. But sometimes, the most revolutionary act is just...being. Not filling every second with noise or activity. Just existing in the moment, exactly as you are. Like you did when you were in high school.”

Killian is quiet for a moment, considering my words. “I don’t think I’m very good at that anymore.”

“But you were…which means you could be again. It just takes practice.”

Killian shifts closer, his shoulder pressing against mine. “Teach me?”

I swallow hard, my throat tight with emotion. “My therapist taught me that I don’t have to fill every second,” I say quietly, watching the night sky. “I don’t have to be ON all the time. Sometimes it’s enough to just...be. To feel what you’re feeling without trying to fix it or make it go away.”

His hand tightens around mine. “Is that what you’re doing now? Just...feeling?”

I nod, a tear escaping down my temple and into my hair. “Yeah.”

“What are you feeling?” His voice is so gentle it causes a twinge in my belly.

I open my mouth to answer, but the words catch in my throat. How do I tell him I’m feeling everything? The grief for my father that never truly fades. The fear of losing Killian when our arrangement ends. The love I’m falling into despite my best efforts not to.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I sigh, my voice breaking. “It’s like...everything all at once.”

Killian doesn’t push. He just waits, his thumb continuing those gentle circles on my hand, anchoring me to this moment.

“I’ve looked at the stars so many times over the last eight years and I can never find my dad,” I continue, my voice barely audible. “How do I know which one is him? How do I really know he’s here with me?”

Killian shifts beside me, turning onto his side so he can look at me properly. Even in the darkness, I can feel his concern. “Isla,”

A tear slips down my cheek, then another. “I miss him so much sometimes that it physically hurts.” The admission comes out raw and unfiltered, surprising even me. “Even after all these years.”

And losing you is going to hurt every bit as much.

Killian moves closer, his arm sliding under my neck, drawing me against his chest. The gesture is so natural, so instinctive, that I don’t resist. I let myself be pulled into the warmth of him, my face buried in the crook of his neck where his heartbeat thuds steady and strong against my ear. His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space between us.

“It’s okay,” he consoles, his lips brushing against my hair. “You can let it out. I’ve got you.”