Page 49 of A Curse On Black Lake
Tell him the other connection.
“There’s one more thing … they said the woman you found has something to do with me finding you, and they mentioned a curse.”
“How does one have to do with the other? What curse?” he asks, unnerved by what I said.
“I’m not sure,” I rasp.
He huffs, frustrated. “I need some time to sort through this … is that okay?” he asks.
I wring my hands together. I really hope I didn’t push him away.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I understand.”
Chapter eighteen
Killian
It’sfiveinthemorning, and I’m sitting on the front steps of the house. I need to get started with chores, but I’m still processing everything she told me. We took a break yesterday. She could muck out her own stalls, and I could do my own for the day. We needed the space, and I needed to wrap my head aroundher.
The Spirits situation is odd, and I can accept it. But her mention of a curse and its relation to the dead woman on my land threw me. I don’t like the idea of having anything to do with what happened to that poor girl.
The sun is up, and I close my eyes, taking a centering breath of the morning air. It clogs my lungs, hitting the rooted breaths of grief. For a second, I allow myself to miss them. My parents were amazing, hardworking people, and I’ve been nothing but a disappointment since both of them died.
My father deserved a better son.
Forcing more oxygen into my body, it eventually makes its way around the sludge and back out in an exhale. No one talks about what life is like a year or more later when the people that mattermost in life leave you. It’s why I don’t want to get too close to anyone and leave them behind because it means someone could leave meagain.
Love is difficult and terrible. It’s this thing that can kill you or make you thrive. But no one talks about when the embodiment of it is gone.
I groan in pain, closing my eyes, willing the cleave of sadness in my heart to dissipate.
A picture of white hair blows in my mind, and I envision her sitting on Sunny. Bright, happy, stunning. But then a cloud blows over, interrupting the illusion, darkening her features, and that’s when I see it. She’s drowning, and no one is there to pull her out. Maybe the Spirits are the only ones convincing her to get up every day. Or maybe I’m looking for someone to understand how it feels to suffocate.
Grief is like being buried alive with someone who is already dead. What you bury is a shell. It’s notthem,but you’re choking on the dirt, just the same.
Gravel crunches, and I see Wyatt pulling his Sheriff’s truck up next to mine.Wonderful.
He hops out and slams the door. I lean back on my elbows, the picture of nonchalance.
“Mornin’ Killian,” he says.
“Sheriff,” I drawl.
Wyatt crosses his arms and studies me for a moment. My hackles rise, and I force myself not to go for the throat.
“You know why I’m here,” he says.
“At—” I glance at my watch. “Five-thirty in the morning? I can’t say I do, cousin.”
“None of this looks good Killian, I know you understand that, but I’m at a dead end, and the only semblance of a lead that I have is you.”
“Well then, that’s a pretty shitty lead. Causation does not equal correlation,Sheriff.”
“Then tell me where you were the night before youfoundher body,” Wyatt demands.
“Is this a question or an interrogation?” I ask him. Anger rises in my veins, and I want to throw something, but I force myself to appear calm. If I respond in any way other than relaxed, he will think I have something to hide. Never mind that Iamhiding things from him, but it doesn’t matter. I didn’t do this, and I need to be faster about proving it. But clearly, I’m going to need Eliana for that.
“It’s a question,” Wyatt says.
