Chapter 3
695words
Kieran immediately switched to professional mode. "Prepare sandbags, call everyone in." He turned to me, "You need to stay here, at least until the rain lets up."
"I can help," I offered. "More useful than sitting here staring at your case files."
He hesitated, then nodded.
The next three hours were like a crazy water park adventure. We hauled sandbags through knee-deep water, evacuated residents, comforted crying children. Kieran commanded with authority, his strong arms easily lifting heavy loads, occasionally glancing back to make sure I hadn't been swept away.
"You okay?" he shouted to me through the downpour, rain streaming down his face.
"Never better!" I shouted back, hair plastered to my face. "It's like an extreme ice bucket challenge!"
He laughed, a genuine laugh that revealed white teeth and crinkles around his eyes. In that moment, he wasn't the mysterious sheriff but the boy I remembered.
Night fell, and the rain finally eased. We returned to the station, soaking wet and exhausted but strangely exhilarated. The other officers had gone on patrol, leaving just the two of us.
"You need dry clothes," Kieran said, pulling a station T-shirt and sweatpants from a locker. "Bathroom's down the hall."
Hot water cascaded over my cold skin as I considered the day's events. Why did I still feel so strongly about him? Why was he so resistant to my book? And why did my heart race like a teenager's whenever he came near?
I returned to his office in dry clothes to find Kieran had also changed—simple black T-shirt and jeans, his hair still damp. He was pouring two glasses of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light, the same color as his eyes.
"To heroes," he handed me a glass. "You saved the Johnsons' dog today."
"That corgi?" I laughed, accepting the drink. "It bit my boot as thanks."
"It sensed you're a cat person."
We smiled at each other, eighteen years of distance momentarily dissolved.
"Why did you come back, El?" he leaned against his desk, voice soft. "Is it really just for the book?"
Alcohol and fatigue lowered my defenses. "I got divorced," I admitted, staring into my glass. "Six months ago. He said I was too focused on work, too obsessed with dark themes. Maybe he was right."
"He's a fool," Kieran said quietly, the intensity in his voice making me look up. "Anyone who lets you go is a fool."
"What about you?" The words escaped before I could stop them. "You let me go too."
The air stilled. Eighteen years of questions finally voiced.
"I didn't have a choice, El," his voice barely a whisper. "I had to leave."
"Why?"
"To protect you."
His answer was so sincere it caught me off guard. Our eyes locked, eighteen years melting away in an instant.
I don't know who moved first, but suddenly our lips met, eighteen years of longing erupting in that moment.
His kiss tasted of whiskey and rain, his arms encircling my waist, pulling me close as if afraid I might disappear again. My fingers threaded through his damp hair, feeling his solid body against mine.
It felt so right, so perfect, as if we'd never been apart.
My hand slid to his wrist, accidentally touching that circular scar. He jerked back with a pained hiss.
"I'm sorry," I gasped. "I didn't mean to—"
"No," he shook his head, the desire in his eyes replaced by something darker. "It's my fault. This shouldn't have happened."
"Why not?" I pressed, unwilling to let go of what we'd just reclaimed. "We're both adults, Kieran."
"You don't know what I am, El," he whispered, the pain in his voice breaking my heart. "If you knew, you'd run away like everyone else."
His words hung in the air, filled with unspoken secrets. Outside, the clouds parted, revealing the waxing moon, nearly full.
"Tomorrow's the full moon," he said, glancing at the window. "I need to go. Stay inside tomorrow night, El. Please."
Before I could ask more questions, he was gone, leaving me with the taste of whiskey and rain on my lips, and a mystery I was determined to solve.
