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“Everyone chooses the kind of relationship they have—whether they know it or not. Also, other people’s experiences aren’t ours. My parents, for example, were a good team. My mom had her part, and my dad had his.”
He tightened his grip as the tide came in stronger on the next wave. “They both did their share well. But they didn’t always support each other’s inner dreams. My mom’s especially—not that she ever spoke of them. Hence her decision to open the arts center after my dad passed away.”
“How long ago did he die?” she asked softly as the seagulls screeched overhead.
“Six years now. In the fields, where he was the happiest.” He drew in a deep breath, glad to feel peace in his heart as he thought about that time. “It was the hardest thing I’d ever faced. My brothers left shortly afterward because they simply couldn’t take being here when he wasn’t. Suddenly it was just my mom and me, and we were lost. That’s when I started asking bigger questions, and when I look back, I can be grateful for it.”
She gave his hand a comforting caress before saying, “Meaning of life stuff, huh? I hear you. I had something kick that off for me when I was in high school. Don’t look, okay? I mean… Can you control it?”
He locked his mind down to make sure nothing came through before he answered. “Sometimes a mere mention by someone triggers an image or a feeling—or a place does. Other times a feeling or vision comes to me out of the blue. Like I’m standing with a paintbrush in my hand, and suddenly I know a friend needs me to call them or there’s trouble.”
“That must be overwhelming,” she said unevenly.
“Not always. When it works well, it confirms for me why they’re called gifts. Like me hearing you were on the road and needed support.”
She went for a comic face as she leaned down and picked up a rock. “Yeah, that was a good moment for me. I might have had to start fighting dirty if things had continued. Throw rocks like a kid on a playground.”
Her attempt for humor and understanding made him want to enfold her in his arms to quell the last bit of wariness lurking in her eyes. “As for the other, I’ve worked hard to train myself to clear my mind. It’s helped. Controlling one’s gifts is an illusion, I’ve learned. Working with them is a better term. I promise to use all I’ve learned to respect your privacy, Taylor. But I’d like nothing better than to listen if you want to tell me about your experiences from your own lips.”
She tossed the rock into the sea as the tide rolled in with a decisiveness he didn’t fully understand but knew was significant. “Thank you for explaining all that. Honestly, I feel kinda guilty for asking you not to use your gifts only when it suits me. Because you’re right. They’re a core part of you. It’s not right to ask anyone not to be themselves. My parents wanted that from me, and I hated it. Liam, I’m really conflicted about this whole thing.”
He paused and turned, needing to face her. “We’ll muddle through it until you’re ready to trust me.”
“No pressure, huh?” She stepped closer to him, laying a hesitant hand on his heart. “Well, that’s sexy. Does it make you feel better to know I haven’t told Sophie my secret?”
He wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or not. “Not really. I’m not Sophie.”
She huffed out a laugh. “No, you so clearly aren’t.”
When she started walking again, he matched her with an equal pace and waited for her to continue talking. She cast another searching glance toward him. He could almost feel her trying to read deeper into him. His character. His feelings. His intentions.
She stopped and picked up another rock, throwing it up and down meditatively. “Sorcha told me everyone trusts you, and from the moment I arrived, you’ve proven you’re good to the core. I won’t talk about the whole soulmate thing, and while I’m still learning to be comfortable with you and your gifts, I can’t ignore the fact that they have helped me.”
He walked over to her and planted himself in front of her. “Helping you is my soul calling, Taylor. In every way you need.”
The rock fell to the ground when she missed catching it. “Your soul calling, huh? Wow! That’s like…really intense and really great, because I haven’t allowed anyone to support me with this thing I’m dancing around. Oh, to hell with it.”
He watched as she fisted her hands at her sides and clenched her eyes shut.
A seagull called overhead as the sea crashed around them. He could feel a change in the air, one radiating out from her. When she opened her eyes again, her breath rushed out and she nodded, as if to herself.
“I’m not indecisive as a rule,” she told him in a serious tone. “I weigh facts and impressions and act accordingly. From the very beginning, my first instinct has been to trust you. But I didn’t expect it would involve my secret. Shit. Then you go and get me the one welcome gift capable of both slaying me and freaking me out. Dammit, Liam, you’d better not crush me.”
The love he already felt for her was as constant as the sea, but he didn’t think that answer was what she needed right now. “Why would I crush you when all I want to do is help you and make you happy?”
She slapped a hand to her forehead. “How can I argue with that? All right, here goes. It’s a long, ugly story, so you’ll have to hang with me. It started in high school, after Sophie graduated. There was this teacher—”
His mind flashed an image of an older thickset man putting his hands on her waist from behind in an empty classroom, and his anger immediately surged. “Keep going,” he managed, tamping back what he’d already seen.
She bent over and grabbed another rock, clenching her fist around it. “He wasn’t just any teacher. He was from one of New York’s power families going back to the Rockefeller days and he’d won a ton of national awards. We were all going to turn into Isaac Newton because of the math god and his stupid class. He was such a pompous jerk, but I did the work.”
He calmly walked toward her until he was standing in front of her, wanting to lend her some of his strength. “I expect you were a good student.”
She rolled her eyes. “I was, but me and trigonometry weren’t the best of friends. Three months into the term, he asked me to meet him after school about one of my tests, and he came on to me. I was sixteen. At first, I thought it was a mistake that his hands were on my hips from behind. But then he leaned in and whispered in my ear that I could get a better grade on my paper. I didn’t understand, but then I felt him lifting my skirt, and I freaked. I do that a lot.”
“Thank God you did,” he managed, fury swirling through him like angry tidepools.
“I ran out of the classroom and headed straight to the bathroom. I had a meltdown the moment I locked myself in the stall. Some older girl came in—one I didn’t know—and she said the teacher was looking for me.”
