Page 104 of Third Strike Smitten

She turns to me when we reach our table, a drink finally in hand and her emerald eyes still glistening with emotion. “Thank you for being here with me, Killian. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

I want to tell her that I’ll always be here for her, that the thought of not being by her side makes me literally ill. But the words stick in my throat, too heavy with meaning. Instead, I press a kiss to her lips and then lean my forehead against hers. “Always, Coach.”

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of conversations and congratulations. I watch Isla transform from the vulnerable woman who stood at the podium into a confident advocate, charming everyone she meets with her genuine warmth and her bright personality. And when the night is over, I’m all too happy to walk out with her on my arm, help her into my SUV, and drive us back to my place.

Tonight is the night.

This is it.

I have to tell her how I feel.

I have to tell her I’m in love with her.

And that nothing about the way I feel about her is fake.

22

ISLA

The elevator ride to Killian's apartment is so quiet it almost hurts. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable. It’s just…full. As if every word we could possibly say got left behind somewhere between the podium and the parking lot.

My fingers are still wrapped around the bracelet on my wrist. The one Killian gave me before we left for the gala. The one I've touched so many times tonight that the tiny baseball charm feels warm against my skin.

It’s beautiful and more meaningful than any gift I’ve ever been given.

Killian stands beside me with one hand shoved into his pocket and the other resting lightly against my lower back. He’s kept it there most of the night when given the chance. Not in that possessive way, though I’m certain he would’ve staked his claim if he had needed to, but just as a reminder that he’s there. A lifeline for me if I need it and a promise that I’m not alone. His thumb traces small circles against my skin, the contact bringing me a sense of peace and calm. Contentment.

Like I’ve always belonged to Killian Haynes.

The elevator dings but neither of us moves immediately. For one strange second we're both staring at the doors like we've forgotten what happens next.

Then Killian exhales a shaky breath. The kind most people would never notice, but I hear right away because I’ve spent months learning all the little ways anxiety shows up in him.

Like the tightness in his jaw or the restless tapping of his fingers even though they’re hidden inside his pocket. Or the way his shoulders creep toward his ears when he's carrying too much.

Tonight…right now, it's all of them.

"Hey," I say softly.

His eyes meet mine and God, the look in them steals the air from my lungs.

The man is so attractive I could cry just looking at him.

"You okay?" I ask.

A quiet laugh escapes him. "You just gave the speech of a lifetime and somehow you're worried about me?"

“Occupational hazard, I guess." I smile and turn into him, my hand on his chest. “It was a big night for both of us. Don’t think I don’t know that.”

The corner of his mouth lifts and then falls again, and suddenly I realize he looks just as emotionally exposed as I feel. Like we're both standing here without armor for the first time.

The elevator doors begin to close but Killian reaches out automatically to stop them. “Come on. Let’s get you inside so I can help you out of that dress.” His voice is low and rough, and it sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cool air of the hallway. I nod, letting him guide me out of the elevator and down the corridor to his apartment.

We don’t speak as he unlocks the door, but the silence between us feels charged with something heady. Something that’s been building all night, maybe even longer.

The apartment is dark when we step inside, just the city lights filtering through the windows. Killian doesn’t bother with the overhead lights. Instead, he flips on a small lamp in the corner that casts everything in a warm, golden glow.

“Come here,” he urges, turning to face me.