Elena CarsonThe sky is already turning the soft, bruised color of early evening by the time we leave the restaurant behind.Killian’s hand stays firm on my waist as we walk down toward the water. The beach has emptied out. Only a few distant figures remain near the main hotel, and even those are fading with the light. The sand is cooler now, shifting under my sandals. Waves roll in with a low, steady rush, leaving dark ribbons of foam that dissolve at our feet.We walk in silence for a while. I can feel the tension still sitting in his body, tight shoulders, controlled breathing, the way his fingers press just a little too firmly against me. I glance up at him. His profile is sharp against the darkening sky.“You’re still upset,” I say softly.He doesn’t deny it. “I don’t like the way he looked at you.”“Devon?”“Yes.”I stop walking. The water nearly reaches my toes. “He was just talking, Killian. People talk.”Killian turns to face me fully. The last light catches in his grey e
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