I’m about to find out.
My fist slams on the door, the rain soaking me the rest of the way through while I wait for him to answer. It takes a minute or so but eventually he does, dressed in only his suit pants and barefooted. His hair looks disheveled, like he’s ran his hand through it a few times.
“Savannah,” He doesn’t appear surprised to see me.
“You never came back.” There’s a shake in my voice, a fracture that is growing bigger. Something has changed, something big.
“I was going to stay here tonight,” He tells me, voice flat and emotionless.
“Is this because of what happened before we went out?” I ask. “Because I wanted to tell them?”
As much as Killian tries, he can’t hide from me. Not anymore. I’ve studied this man, learnt his ticks, his tells, the way he lies. He wants to tell me no, but his face tells me yes.
“I can’t be a secret anymore,” I stutter out, “Killian, I love you, but I can’t be a secret.”
“We will be nothing but a secret, Savannah.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I step toward him, but he steps back, pain flashing over his face for just a moment.
“Yes, it does.”
“You love me too,” I state. I don’t need to ask because I know.
The muscles in his cheeks tick as his teeth grind together, “Savannah,” He warns.
“You do.” I accuse. “We wouldn’t be where we are if you didn’t. You wouldn’t have killed Adrien or painted the mural.”
He remains silent.
“I can’t do this, Killian,” I cry, rain rolling down my face, the water cold and rising goosebumps on my skin. “I can’t.”
His hands clench into fists at his sides and his eyes darken, “Then don’t.”
“What?” The two words hit me like a truck.
“Then don’t, Savannah. Don’t do this. End it.”
I’m scrambling, clinging to fraying ends but they slip from my palms, leaving nothing to grasp. The fracture that has been steadily building splits in two.
“Killian.” My voice cracks.
“Go home, Savannah.” He steps further into the house and glances toward my car parked on the road. The rain thunders against the tarmac, flooding the surface enough that the little light from the streetlamps reflects off of it. “We will be nothing but a secret, and you don’t want that. It’s over.”
“No, wait,” I cry, “Please don’t.”
His eyes squeeze closed, “We’re done. You deserve more than this, Tiny Dancer. You deserve more than being a secret behind closed doors. Go home.”
“I don’t – Killian…”
“You are right,” He tells me right before he shuts the door on me, leaving me alone on his porch.
Rain runs down my face, icy cold water slipping down the back of my shirt, but I don’t react to the temperature when it feels like ice has formed in my veins. Numbly, my legs carry me back to my car and somehow, I manage to get my door open and the engine on while functioning on autopilot. My vision is blurred from the tears, my nose running while my throat is clogged, burning from the emotion. My heart hurts.
It more than hurts.
The pain is radiating outward from the beating organ in my chest, I didn’t know this could feel so bad. I didn’t know a broken heart would feel as if the world is falling apart from under my feet and there’s no ledge to cling onto.
We are nothing more than names in the sand, temporary, a little water and it all washes away.
