Page 41 of Blindsided
As I arrange pillows and blankets on the sofa, I can’t help but wonder what I’m doing. Twenty-four hours ago, I was determined to be alone, to lick my wounds in private. Now I’m playing hostess to a man whose family apparently has Russian enemies and buried treasures.
But as I bid Kane goodnight and climbed the stairs to my bedroom, I realized something: for the first time since meeting him, I’d gone hours without crying. Hours without that hollow ache consumingme.
Instead, I’ve been cold and wet and terrified and exhilarated—but most importantly, I’ve found myself again, thanks to Kane.
Chapter 15
Kane
I wake up wondering where the hell I am as sunlight streams across my face from unfamiliar windows. For a moment, I panic—another blackout? Another strange bed? Then last night comes flooding back.
Kori. The midnight swim that somehow made breathing possible again.
The cottage is quiet as I sit up, my back protesting from a night on the sofa. It’s comfortable enough, but I’m too tall for it, my feet dangling over the armrest all night. Still, it’s better than wherever Declan and the others are staying. At least here, no one’s looking at me with that mixture of pity and curiosity that makes my skin crawl.
I check my phone; seven missed calls from Declan, three from Kat, and a single text from Wren that says, “He’s worried, not pissed. Call him.”
Like hell I will. Not yet, anyway.
The smell of coffee draws me to the kitchenwhere Kori stands at the counter, her back to me. Her hair is even more chaotic this morning, sticking up in tufts that somehow make her look younger, more vulnerable. She’s wearing the same oversized t-shirt from last night with a different pair of sweatpants, and she’s humming something under her breath—some pop song I vaguely recognize.
“Morning,” I say, my voice rough with sleep.
She jumps, nearly spilling the coffee she’s pouring. “Jesus! Make some noise when you walk, will you?”
“Sorry,” I grin, not sorry at all. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She narrows her eyes, but there’s no real heat behind them. “Coffee?”
“God, yes.”
She hands me a mug, and our fingers brush. That same weird spark of familiarity hits me again, and I almost drop the cup.
“Sleep okay?” she asks, leaning against the counter.
“Not bad,” I lie. The truth is, I barely slept, my mind racing with questions.
“Liar,” Kori says, seeing right through me. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
“You really know how to make a guy feel special.”
“It’s a gift,” she deadpans, then gestures towardthe fridge. “I made eggs. They’re probably cold by now, but food is food.”
Sure enough, there’s a plate of scrambled eggs waiting. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until this moment. I haven’t eaten since... I can’t even remember. Yesterday’s breakfast, maybe?
“Thanks,” I say, genuinely touched by the simple gesture.
We eat in companionable silence at the small kitchen table. Through the window, I can see the sea, calm and blue under the morning sun, nothing like the dark, freezing beast we plunged into last night.
“So,” Kori says eventually, “what’s the plan for today?”
I sigh, setting down my fork. “I should probably call Declan before he sends out a search party. Then head to the Hill of Tara, I guess. See what this riddle is all about.”
“And find your sister,” she adds softly.
“Maybe,” I agree, though the word feels inadequate. A sister. Someone who might have answers about Tomas, about why he kept us apart all these years.
“What about you?” I ask, deflecting. “What’s on the agenda for your Irish exile today?”
