Chapter 33 Deirdre
Deirdre
“Like the bird that lover, Round his fate will hover, Till the blow is over, And he sinks—like me.” Edgar Allan Poe
Kieran threads his fingers through mine, calming me, or mainly my nerves, as we slip out of the hall. The night air outside is cool against my skin, crisp after the heavy warmth of the party.
And waiting at the curb is Vincent.
He leans casually against the sleek black Benz, but his eyes are more serious than ever.
“Right on time,” he says, opening the door with a sweep of his hand. His gaze flicks to me, lingering just long enough to make the weight of this moment settle in my chest. “The trunk is already loaded—D, your bag, Kieran’s, plane tickets, and everything you’ll need. You ready for this?”
“I am,” I answer, my voice steadier than I expect.
He nods once, as if that’s all he needed, and slides behind the wheel.
The city falls away as we drive, the museum lights shrinking in the rearview mirror until they vanish entirely. My heart beats fast, but not from fear. From anticipation. From the knowledge that tonight isn’t an escape, it’s reclaiming what was taken from me almost four months ago.
My safety. My security.
We make a small detour at Kieran’s house to change out of our gala attire and into travel clothes. Then, proceed to the airport.
Vincent doesn’t speak much on the way, though I catch his eyes meeting Kieran’s in the mirror more than once, watchful and calculating. They’re constantly on guard and communicating with each other.
When we reach Bradley International, he pulls to the curb, killing the engine. He climbs out, retrieves the bags, and sets them down at Kieran’s feet. For a moment, the three of us stand there beneath the harsh glow of the terminal lights, the night air humming with what’s about to come.
Vincent clasps Kieran’s shoulder, then looks at me again. “Give that fucker what he deserves, Deirdre. No half-assing it.”
“I will,” I promise.
His mouth twitches into something almost like a smile before he turns back to the car. And then he’s gone, taillights fading into the distance, leaving just me and Kieran and the path ahead.
I glance up at Kieran, his jaw set, his hand closing around mine. “Just us,” I whisper.
His answer is a single nod, fierce and certain. “Just us.”
The glass doors whoosh open as we step into the terminal. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, way too bright and too sterile after the dim glow of the gala. The marble floor reflects the shuffle of tired travelers, rolling bags, and the sharp call of flight announcements echoing overhead.
I clutch my carry-on tighter, Kieran’s hand guiding me through the small crowd of people. Every step feels heavy with purpose. I’m not just walking through an airport—I’m crossing into something I can’t turn back from.
At the check-in counter, the agent barely glances at us before confirming the tickets. The sound of the printer spitting out paper feels too ordinary for what we’re about to do. Kieran, his voice calm and controlled. He doesn’t show it, but I can feel the tension radiating off of him.
When the boarding passes are in hand, we move toward security. Shoes off, bags on the belt, bodies scanned. Everything routine, everything efficient—but my pulse drums faster with each step, as though the metal detector might strip me bare, revealing everything we’ve hidden.
Kieran’s hand brushes mine when we collect our things, subtle, grounding. No words, just that touch, reminding me I’m not walking alone.
We reach the gate early, the boarding area half-full, passengers sprawled in plastic chairs, sipping bad airport coffee, staring blankly at their phones.
I sink into a seat by the window, staring out at the plane waiting in the dark.
Its silver body glints under the floodlights, a machine carrying me back to the place I swore I’d never see again.
Kieran sits beside me, close enough that his arm brushes mine. He doesn’t look at the plane. He looks at me.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says, giving me the option to turn back.
I turn to him, meeting the weight of his stare. “Yes, I do.”
The boarding announcement crackles overhead.
First class.
That’s us.
Kieran rises, offering his hand. I take it, my fingers threading through his.
As we step onto the jet bridge, the air grows thicker, the roar of the engines vibrating beneath my feet. With every step, I leave Cornelia farther behind, carrying only Kieran at my side and the promise that when I return, I won’t come back broken.
This time, I’ll come back whole.
The plane hums steadily beneath us, the vibration a low thrum through the floor, through my bones. Outside the oval window, the world is swallowed by black sky and scattered stars. We’re suspended here, between past and future, between who I was and who I’m becoming.
Kieran sits beside me, broad shoulders filling the narrow space, acting like my shield against the world around me. The flight attendant offers us a thin navy blanket to drape over my lap, and I tuck it across both our legs, hiding the place where our hands find each other.
My fingers tremble when they curl around his. He notices instantly, his thumb sweeping slow arcs across my skin. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than the rumble of the engines.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, though the word feels brittle. My chest is tight, my pulse is loud in my ears. “Just…the thought of going back. The house. Him. Everything waiting there.”
His grip tightens, firm but not suffocating. “Then don’t think about him,” he says. “Think about what comes after. Think about walking back out of there with nothing left to fear.” His gaze burns into mine, fierce even in the dim cabin light. “Think about what it means to end it.”
I draw in a shaky breath, letting the truth of his words sink in.
He leans closer, his lips brushing just behind my ear, his breath warm. “You’re not facing this alone. You never have. Not one single step, not one second. If you stumble, I’ll catch you. If you break, I’ll put you back together.”
The words unravel me. I shift closer, resting my head against his shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne. His hand never leaves mine, not even when I loosen my grip, not even when exhaustion tugs at my eyes.
Somewhere between New Haven and Avalon, my body gives in, and I let myself close them.
Because I know when I wake, we’ll be there. And this time, I won’t be the one running.
The captain’s voice crackles overhead, announcing our descent, and my stomach twists as the plane tilts lower. Landing is the part I fear the most during a flight, so I grip Kieran’s hand a little tighter. He chuckles but doesn’t say a word.
Through the oval window, the clouds peel back to reveal the California coast—jagged cliffs kissed by waves, stretches of golden sand, and the endless shimmer of the Pacific.
It’s beautiful. Achingly beautiful.
And it feels like betrayal to see it that way. This place is where my nightmares lie.
My chest tightens as the land grows closer, every curve of shoreline pulling me backward into memories I tried to bury. Summers spent with my father, afternoons filled with books and sunlight, memories that Trevor eventually poisoned. My hand tightens on the armrest, nails biting into my palm.
Kieran notices. His free hand covers mine, warm and comforting, pulling me back into the present.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, low enough that only I can hear.
I nod, dragging in air as the wheels hit the runway with a jolt. The cabin fills with the rush of brakes and the weight of arrival pressing me down into the seat.
We taxi, we stop, we file out into the terminal. And then the California air hits me—salt and sun that clings to my skin like a memory.
Kieran shoulders our carry-ons, his other hand claiming mine as we walk through the terminal toward the shuttle that will carry us to the port. He doesn’t speak, and neither do I. We don’t need words now.
By the time we board the ferry, the sun has climbed higher, gilding the water in bright shards. I step to the rail, my fingers wrapping around the cool metal, staring out at the horizon where the island waits.
Avalon.
The engines hum beneath my feet, steady and relentless, carrying me toward the place I swore I’d never see again.
Kieran comes up beside me, his presence solid as the wind lashes my hair across my face. He doesn’t touch me at first. Just stands there, close enough that I feel him like a wall at my back.
“Almost there,” he says quietly.
I nod, my gaze locked on the pastel houses rising from the hills, the boats bobbing in the harbor. It looks like a postcard. Harmless and picturesque.
But my heart knows better.
“I thought I’d never come back,” I whisper.
“You didn’t come back,“ Kieran says, his voice firm. His hand finds mine now, his grip unyielding. “You came to take your life back.”
The ferry horn bellows, announcing our arrival. The island grows sharper, every detail familiar and foreign all at once.
My pulse hammers. But I don’t let go of him.
He’s right. This isn’t a return, and I’m not the same girl I was when I left Avalon almost two years ago.
It’s my reckoning.