“If it wasn’t you, it would have been me,” I tell him.
“Yeah, he had a gun,” he rasps. This isn’t Wyatt’s first time, but I think this case has him rattled to the core.
It’s shaken the town for years.
“I really thought it could be you,” he says.
“That’s exactly what he wanted,” I mumble, going back to Eliana. She stands there with her arms hugging her midsection. Exhaustion covers her face, and I hate that we had to go through any of this. But it’s over now, so maybe we can move on. I come up to her and dip down, sweeping her into my arms.
“We’re going to have to question both of you,” Wyatt says.
Eliana stares at him and doesn’t say a word.
“I’m taking my girl home,” I tell him.
“We still don’t have proof, Killian,” Wyatt says.
“He told me everything, and he tried to kill me. I feel like it’s pretty open- and -shut, Wyatt,” Eliana says, and coughs a couple of times.
“That may be, but that’s not how this works. People want answers. I have to put a face to the crimes,” Wyatt says.
“Fine, but give us a bit,” I grunt.
He shifts his hat on his head. “I can do that. I have some guys coming out to start crime scene documenting.”
Starting up the hill from the lake, I carry Eliana all the way home.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” I ask her.
She levels me with a knee shaking stare.
“Yes, ma’am,” I mumble and continue towards the house.
“I know, maybe you’re right,” she whispers.
“What?”
“The Spirits didn’t leave. They weren’t there when you … when you brought me back.”
“Maybe they wanted to give you a minute,” I mumble, kissing her temple.
She nods against my shoulder.
When we get to the house, I take her upstairs to our room, and set her on the bed.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Kneeling at her feet, I pull her boots off one by one, and reach for her belt, sliding it through the loops and drop it to the floor.
“Talk to me,” I say.
She stands and reaches for her shirt, pulling it over her head, and unbuttons her jeans, pushing them over her curvy hips.
“I’ll give you a minute,” I tell her and step back.
“No,” she says, almost panicked, grabbing my wrist to wrap around her ribs. She hugs my waist, then she shatters.
A sob rips through her, and she clings to me like I’m about to be taken from her again.
“I’ve got you, darlin’,” I whisper, rubbing her back.