Page 82 of The Dark Before Light

In a graveyard in the rain.

Relief thickens his slow exhale, then fervent words fill my ears, my body, my soul.

“I didn’t want to leave your bed on Sunday, much less the country, but you needed time and space. If I hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have been able to stay away from you. It’s not transference, Talia. I promise you. It’s your eyes, your voice. Your beautiful fucking brain. The fact you can read me like a book when no one—no one—has ever been able to. When we met, I was slipping away. I mean that literally. I was losing time, losing myself. You were the fire that melded the pieces of me back together. It wasn’t the therapy—it was you.”

I can’t breathe, much less speak.

“You asked me in our first session if I’d ever trusted someone enough to show them the deepest, darkest parts of myself. I said no, and at the time it was the truth. But it’s not true anymore. Do you understand? I trust you. I see you. I…” He sucks in air. “I want to tell you why I came to Ireland. The real reason.”

My head spins. “Your mom?—”

“Isn’t herself anymore,” he says with finality. “She doesn’t know me. She’s safe, as content as the finest care can make her, but she isn’t why I came. My lab is here.”

I blink in confusion. “Lumitech has a headquarters in Ireland?”

“No. This is privately funded. So completely off the books not even the custodians in the building know what’s under their feet. When I got that call and the photo of Alistair and Gail, I thought it meant they knew about the lab in Limerick. The real lab.”

I gasp. “The project here is a diversion.”

“So fucking smart,” he whispers.

“Kieran!”

He chuckles. “Yes. Lumitech’s project has been officially shelved for three months, but it’s never been more than a think tank. My people are here—the brightest minds in the world. They don’t even need me. They never have. I come every six weeks or so under the pretense of visiting family, but I spend most of my time underground with them.”

I thread this information with what he’s told me before and muse, “You never stopped working on it because they never stopped.”

“Correct. I’ve spent the last three months agonizing over whether to shut everything down. To give up. I was close—so close—to pulling the plug. Then I was watching you sleep Sunday morning, and I realized I couldn’t ask you to be brave if I wasn’t willing to take risks myself. So I did it.”

My ears ring. “Did what?”

“Gave the green light. Preclinical testing begins in five weeks. We’ve done it. Too late for my mam, but not too late for others. For everyone.”

“Holy shit,” I whisper, my eyes stinging. “Kieran, I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you, mo ghrá.”

I try to repeat the word but mangle it. He chuckles.

“What does that mean?” I demand.

“You didn’t look it up?”

“It sounds like gibberish. Tell me how to spell it and I will.”

His laughter grows. “Not a chance. But it’s two words, not one.”

“Not helpful,” I grumble.

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you someday.”

I huff. “I’ll call Gail and have her ask Alistair.”

“No, you won’t. You love the frustration. Prolonging the tension. Don’t you, mo ghrá? Didn’t you love how I made you writhe for an hour before I let you come on my tongue?”

My breath stutters out of me. “Kieran,” I whisper.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

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