Page 116 of Third Strike Smitten

The words hit me like a physical blow. “That’s not fair,” I chide, my voice cracking. “You know that’s not what this was.”

“Then what was it, Isla? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I just handed you my fucking heart on a silver platter and you’re about to walk away with it.”

The accusation stings because there’s truth in it. I am running. I’ve always been running. But hearing him say it out loud makes it impossible to deny. The tears I’ve been fighting back spill over, tracking hot paths down my cheeks.

“That’s not fair,” I repeat, my voice rebelling against me.

“Life isn’t fucking fair, Coach.” He paces again, his movements agitated, desperate. “But I thought we were building something real here. I thought you felt the same way I do.”

“I do feel the same way,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. The words hang in the air between us, raw and unfiltered.

“Then say it,” he begs me. “Tell me you love me, Isla. Be honest for once in your damn life and just fucking say it.”

“I love you, Killian!” I exclaim, my voice louder as it rises in pitch. “Is that what you want to hear? Because I do. I do love you.”

Killian stops mid-stride, his gaze locking onto mine with more intensity than I’ve seen in him. “Then why are you leaving?”

“Because I have to!” The words come out harsher and louder than I intend, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I’m feeling. “Because if I stay, I’ll lose you eventually anyway. Something will happen—an injury, a trade, a car accident—and I’ll be left picking up the pieces of my heart again. I can’t do that, Killian. I won’t survive that pain twice.

“So, you’re running,” he says. “You’re running because you’re scared.”

“I’m not running,” I lie, even as my chest constricts with the weight of it. “I’m doing what I’ve always done. What I’m good at. This is my job, Killian.”

“Being a flight attendant?” He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Or leaving before things get too real? Convenient that you can hop on a plane and just fly away from anything that ails you.”

The words hit me like a slap, my eyes stinging with more tears,

“You know what? Maybe that’s exactly what I’m doing,” I snap, anger flaring to life in my chest. “Maybe I’m protecting myself. Maybe I’m protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” Killian’s laugh is sharp and humorless. “From what, Isla? From loving you? Because news flash,” he pounds his chest. “It’s too fucking late for that. I’m already in love with you.”

The silence between us stretches taut, a wire about to snap. Killian searches my face, desperate for something—anything—that might give him hope that I’ll change my mind. The key glints on the bed between us, a tiny, cruel reminder of the future he offered me.

“I’m not asking you to stop being scared,” Killian says, his voice pleading. “I’m asking you to be scared with me. Together.”

My throat tightens so much it hurts to swallow. “You don’t understand what it’s like⁠—”

“You’re right, I don’t.” He crosses the room in three quick strides, kneeling in front of me so we’re eye to eye. Water droplets still cling to his skin. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone the way you did. But I do know what it’s like to be terrified of losing you.”

His hands find mine, his fingers lacing through my trembling ones. “Every time you go somewhere without me, I hold my breath until you text me that you’re okay. Every time we’re on the plane, I watch you like a hawk because if that plane ever goes down, I’m not grabbing my seat cushion, Isla. I’m grabbing you. The thought of losing you makes me physically ill.”

“That’s not healthy, Kill,”

He nods in agreement. “Tell me about it. But here you are, running because of the same damn fears. Please, Isla. Stay. I’ll help you find a different job if it’s what you want. Call your company and beg them for another assignment. Anything. Just…don’t go.”

My heart shatters into a million pieces at the sight of Killian on his knees before me. His eyes—those beautiful hazel eyes with their gold flecks—are glistening with unshed tears, and I’ve never seen anyone look so broken.

“Don’t do this,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my own heart. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Killian’s grip on my hands tightens. “I’m not trying to make it hard for you, Isla. I’m telling you that it can be an easy decision. All you have to do is stay. Love me. And let me love you.”

The tears flow freely now, hot tracks down my cheeks that I don’t bother wiping away.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises through my sniffling. “I just signed a three-year extension with the Lagers. I’m staying in Portland. I’m staying with my brothers. I’m staying with you, if you’ll let me.”

My resolve wavers. The key on the bed between us seems to pulse with possibility, with the promise of a future I’m too terrified to reach for. My soul feels like it’s being ripped in two, each half pulling in opposite directions.

Stay.