Into the Fading Twilight (Starlight Grove, #2) (69)

“Nova,” he warned, shucking his pants, leaving him in only black boxer briefs.

I ignored him. And I jumped. But in my wake, I heard “Phoenix” on the air around me.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT


Nova




THE AIR CAUGHT ME LIKE IT ALWAYS DID. THE SHARP BITE from the cold soothed me like a warm blanket. But I understood it. Because everything seemed to be opposite for me these days. Nothing made sense the way it used to.

The sting of the air had nothing on the slap of the ice-cold water. In the days or weeks since I’d last jumped, it had changed, shifted into a shocking temperature that stole my breath instead of giving it back.

But still, I trusted it. I shot downward, nearing the bottom of the lake, then tipped my head back. I could see the sky peeking through the inky blue-green water. The streaks of the setting sun painted it in different designs and colors than it did in the morning hours.

And then something pierced the surface. The splash created bigger ripples than mine ever did. But then again, Kol’s body was far broader than mine could ever hope to be.

I watched as the water moved and danced. Then my lungs began to burn, a reminder that I hadn’t yet started swimming for the surface. My feet kicked on instinct, and my thigh muscles began to ache slightly. But not as much as they had in the past.

I held on to that sign of growing strength. Gripped it with all I had.

My head broke the surface, and I sucked in air.

“You’re alive. You’re breathing.”

I ached to hear Kol repeat those words. Sometimes, I felt like they were still clear as day in my mind, while at others, it was as if they’d gone fuzzy—the way my eyes struggled after living in the dark for so long.

My chest heaved as my breathing regulated. Jumping was like a factory reset. And I was so damn grateful for it.

Kol treaded water a good ten feet away from me, not looking grateful at all. He looked pissed as hell. But he didn’t say a word.

His anger was both a wound and a balm. The hurt because he’d never been mad at me before, at least, not in any real way. And a comfort because he trusted that I was strong enough to handle that anger.

“This is how you deal with things?”

The low, rumbling timbre of Kol’s voice skated over my skin as the cold of the water started to set in. “Yes.”

It was as simple as that. He could judge me if he wanted, but I wouldn’t let it hurt.

“Alone?” he pressed.

“Yes.”

“Fucking reckless,” he growled.

“Maybe,” I hedged.

“Definitely,” he shot back.

Fire ignited, and I knew the gray of my irises had bled to silver, the way they always did when my emotions were heightened. “Any more reckless than letting a panic attack catch hold, seize me into passing out or freaking out or something so much worse?” I demanded.

He snapped his mouth closed.

“That’s what I thought,” I muttered. “I deal how I deal. It’s my choice. Not anyone else’s.”

Something I didn’t expect flashed in Kol’s eyes. Hurt. “You could talk to me.”

I stayed silent for a moment, my hands swirling through the icy water, relishing the feel of it as I picked my words carefully. “Talk to you when you won’t even look at me? I felt it, you shutting me out. Maybe it was because you were working, but I get the feeling you want to make that shut-out permanent.”

A part of me wondered if I was crazy—that mean word thoughtless people hurled my way. But maybe it was true. Maybe I’d imagined him pushing me away.

“Nova,” he rasped, but made no claim that I was wrong.

Water had soaked Kol’s hair, and tiny droplets streaked his face. He was so damn beautiful.

“You were shutting me out.”

More pain in those hazel eyes. “I had to.”

“Why?” That might’ve been my bravest act—asking for a reason that might ruin me.

“I’m already walking a tightrope that could get me fired, bending rules the me from a few months ago never would have.”

I swallowed hard, trying to loosen the muscles tightening around my throat. I swam closer. One stroke. Two. Until I was so close I could’ve reached out and touched him.

I imagined what it would be like to trace one of those beads of water down the side of his face to that iron-sharp jaw, then his neck with the pulsing line of tension, and across one of those broad shoulders. And lower.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I wanted.

It both terrified and relieved me in the same breath. I was so damn scared to let myself be that vulnerable again. So damn happy that I could even want it.

“What if you just … took yourself off my case? No more conflict of interest.”

A war of emotions played over Kol’s face. “You want me off your case?”

I could see now that that would be the ultimate insult to someone like Kol—me not finding him capable. “No, I just mean … it would be easier.”

A divot appeared in the corner of his jaw. “I don’t trust anyone else to do what needs to be done.”

A different sort of warmth spread through me, fighting off the cold of the water. Kol didn’t trust anyone to do as good a job as he would. Because I mattered to him.