LIFE WAS GOOD.
For once, I was happy. You know that incredible, mind-blowing type of happy you really only ever saw in movies? That annoying overly cheerful person who never stopped smiling in that teeth-whitening commercial, making you wonder what could possibly be so damn funny?
That was me.
It had been a few weeks since Killian took residence in my apartment, and although we still needed to get to know each other as far as the whole living-together thing went, we’d definitely risen to the situation.
Or he had.
Several times a day.
I’d never lived with a man other than my father. I’d always figured them to be the gross fraternity types who never cleaned and left their towels and dirty socks on the floor.
Killian was the exact opposite.
Perhaps a little neurotic.
While I spent the day at work, he’d comb the city, looking for work. He’d been pretty flexible on positions, applying for anything even remotely plausible—from random office jobs to a barista job at a local coffee shop.
“I’ve got to start earning my way around here,” he pushed one evening as we were making dinner.
Or rather he was making dinner while I sat around and watched.
I loved watching him cook.
Who knew food could be so sexy?
“It’s really no big deal,” I said, grabbing a handful of grated cheese. “It’s not like you’re racking up a lot of extra charges. And, honestly, since I’ve been buying groceries and eating in almost every night, my food bill has drastically decreased.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe you survived on takeout before I came along.”
“Not just takeout,” I argued.
“Right. I forgot about the cereal.”
“Cereal is a major food group as far as I’m concerned.”
He grinned, knowing he couldn’t convince me otherwise. “But, seriously, I don’t want it to seem like I’m not contributing. Or that I’m living here out of convenience.”
“Well, it sure has been convenient for me,” I replied, giving my best attempt at a sexy wink.
“You know what I mean,” he said as he stirred the homemade pasta sauce he’d been working on.
“I do,” I answered. “I really do. And I know you’ve been working on it. And, when you do land a job, we’ll figure it out. In the meantime, let’s consider this your contribution, okay?” I said, pointing to the amazing dinner he was preparing.
“So, I’m your live-in chef, is that it?” he asked, taking a step closer.
“Among other things.”
“What kinds of things?” His voice darkened.
“You know.” I laughed.
He grabbed my waist, pulling me closer. The kitchen smelled of basil and garlic. I’d come to recognize the tangy, sweet smell of tomatoes and spices, knowing he was making something special.
Something for me.
“You want to show me?” he asked as the hand around my waist slid lower.
I bit my lip. “If the fire department shows up here again,” I warned, making him laugh.
“That was just one time! Besides, you started that.”
“So, it was my fault you almost burned down the kitchen while we were making love?”
“That’s what I told the firefighters,” he purred.
“You did not!”
“I did. Told them I was too busy pleasing my girl to turn off the stove.”
My cheeks felt hot as I looked up at his heated gaze.
“Make sure the oven is off this time, too,” I said before taking off toward the bedroom.
I could hear his footsteps chasing after me seconds later.
Yes, life was good.
Too good.
As a writer, I should have known.
When things were good, that was always when shit hit the fan, and mine was about to—in an epic way.
“I should have shacked you up with a guy ages ago.” Jane snickered as I finished up the lunch Killian had packed for me that morning.
He’d offered to take me out, but after spending so much time together over the last few weeks, I had some serious catching up to do on my manuscript.
“I thought my earlier stuff was amazing,” I replied, taking the last bite from the sandwich he’d made. It was a typical turkey and cheese, but for some reason, it tasted a hundred times better than anything I could have whipped up.
“It was. It is,” she said. “Everything you write is amazing. It’s just…the stuff you’ve been sending me lately…it’s…” She paused, obviously trying to find the right word. “Real.”
“No, it’s fiction,” I corrected her.
“I know that, asshole.” I could almost hear her eyes rolling around in her head. “What I mean is, the connection between the characters. It’s always been there. If it wasn’t, your sales wouldn’t be where they are. But this book? It’s going to blow your readers out of the water, Kate. It tugs not just at your heart, but also your very soul. I can’t wait to read the rest of it.”
“Thank you,” I said, not knowing how to continue.
It wasn’t very often that Jane showed such emotion. She was used to busting balls and getting people to do what she wanted. But showing emotions of her own? It was a rarity.
“I can’t explain it honestly. It’s like having him here was always supposed to happen. I’m a better me with him around. I can feel him pushing me out of that shell I’d shoved myself into all those years ago. And I do the same for him.”
“It’s called love,” she replied.
“Yeah”—I smiled—“I think it is.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, go finish writing my book,” she replied, the vulnerability in her voice sobered almost instantly.
I laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And, Kate?”
“Yeah?”
“Call me if you need anything. Book-related or otherwise.”
I smiled, knowing this was her way of saying I love you.
“I love you, too.”
We said our good-byes, and I quickly put a few more words in before leaving the small conference room I’d used for my lunch time writing sprint and running back to my desk.
The university was buzzing with activity as the semester drew closer to an end. Now that spring break had passed, seniors were eager for graduation and all that went with it.
Well, most of the seniors.
Amy had been bouncing between excited and somewhat terrified. Yesterday, after receiving a late acceptance to her top graduate school pick, her elation quickly pivoted back around to panic.
“This changes everything!” she’d announced after arriving for her afternoon shift.
I’d tried to explain to her that it only changed things if she decided to go, but there was no getting through to her.
I was hoping she’d be slightly less neurotic today.
Turned out, I was in luck.
Or so I thought.
“Hey, Kate!” she said in a chipper voice the moment I arrived at my desk. She was already situated in the chair I’d designated as hers almost four years ago.
It was going to be hard to let her go.
“Hi. You sound better.”
She nodded. “I’ve decided to be Zen about the whole thing.”
“Zen?” I asked, not really understanding her use of the word.
“Yes. Zen. You see, I was letting everything get to me, so I’m just going to sit on it. Give it a couple of days, maybe a week, and eventually, it will all make sense.”
I gave her a blank stare. “Zen, huh?”
She nodded. “Yep.”
“Okay. Sounds good to me.”
“Oh, and since my class was canceled, I came in early, so all your mail has already been taken to the mail room.”
“Wow, thanks.”
“And there’s a message for you on your desk,” she added just as I saw the bright pink note next to my phone.
The name immediately stuck out to me.
“Liam?”
She nodded. “He was here, looking for you, but said he couldn’t wait. So, he left a message.”
I pulled the message from the desk. Holding it eye-level, I had to read it several times over before the words made sense.
And even then I didn’t understand.
Tell Killian I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of this.
My heart began to race for some reason, as if it knew something I didn’t.
“I’ve got to go,” I announced.
“Is everything okay?” Amy asked, rising from her seat. Her eyes met mine, so full of concern and warmth.
“I don’t know honestly, but I’m going to go find out. Can you let everyone know I had to step out?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thanks.”
Grabbing my purse, I didn’t waste any time. Normally, I would have stopped at my boss’s office, taken the time to make the necessary steps in announcing my departure.
But this felt wrong.
It all felt wrong.
And, somehow, I knew, time was not on my side.
I realized about halfway home that I had no idea where Killian even was. With his constant interview schedule, he could be anywhere in the city.
Pulling into the parking lot of my apartment complex, I sent him a text and got an immediate answer back.
Good, he was here.
My hand went to the handle, ready to push the door open, but something stopped me.
Looking up at my apartment window, I paused.
One hand on the door handle, one wrapped around the single sheet of pink paper from Liam.
It felt like my life was about to change.
For the better…or for the worse?
I had no idea, but in that moment, I knew I was standing on a precipice. I could rip up the note, throw it in my purse, and hold on to a few precious moments of normal for a bit longer.
Or I could dive headfirst into the abyss.
My hand shook, as I pushed the door open.
Time to jump.
The short trip across the parking lot, through the lobby, and into the elevator felt ten times longer than usual. My feet twitched as the old machine climbed to the third floor, announcing my arrival with a loud ding.
My apartment building was mostly filled with nine-to-fivers, so during the day, these halls were fairly quiet, except for the few retirees who occupied every floor. Wheel of Fortune must have been on because today, a pin dropping could have been heard from one end to the other as my footsteps creaked across the worn wood floor.
Marching up to my door, I thought for a second about knocking.
Why?
I wasn’t sure, but all of a sudden, none of this made sense.
Tell Killian I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of this.
I, of all people, knew words had power.
Power to inspire.
Power to change lives.
And even the power to destroy them.
What would these ten words bring me?
I guessed it was time to find out.
Twisting the doorknob, I pushed open the door to my apartment. I was instantly greeted with the smell of food, something earthy that reminded me of home.
“Hey!” Killian said brightly, coming from the bedroom. He was dressed in low-slung jeans and an old T-shirt. There was sweat staining his shirt, and his hair was slick from exertion.
“It smells good in here,” I said, distracted by his appearance.
“Thanks. I decided to try out that Crock-Pot you had tucked in the back of your cabinet.”
“I have a Crock-Pot?”
He grinned. My eyes darted to the kitchen where I caught a glimpse of a stainless steel appliance on the counter. Was it wrong I found him even more adorable now that I knew he could work a Crock-Pot?
“Why are you all sweaty?” I asked, still clinging to the note in my hand.
“I noticed your shower wasn’t draining right, so I went to the store and got some things to fix it. Picked up a new showerhead, too.”
He was incredible.
“I have a manager for stuff like that.”
He nodded. “I know,” he said, grabbing the hem of his shirt to wipe away the sweat from his face.
I would be a liar if I said I didn’t watch every single millisecond, my mouth hanging open, as his raised shirt exposed his chiseled abs and that sexy little arch his hip bones made.
“Well, thank you,” I managed to say.
“Just trying to—”
“Earn your keep, I know.”
He smiled. “Hey,” he said, walking to the fridge to grab a soda, “not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but can I ask what you’re doing home so early? When I got your text, I figured you were checking in, not coming home. Is everything okay?”
My face fell.
No more Crock-Pot talk or boyfriend ogling.
It was time.
“When was the last time you saw Liam?” I asked, squeezing the message in my hand.
His eyes narrowed as he looked me over, trying to figure out what was going on. “A few days. Why?”
I took a step forward, holding out my hand and passing the note over to him. “I found this on my desk when I got in from lunch,” I said, realizing I’d told him this morning I was eating at my desk so I could write. “I decided to eat outside. It was a nice day.”
God, I hated lying to him.
I could see his confusion turn to fear as he read the words from his brother.
“I’m sorry?” he said softly, repeating the words his brother had written, and the note slowly crumpled in his hand. “What does that even mean?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” I said.
His gaze met mine, that same fear mixing with a fresh new wave of panic. “I should call him.”
His hand reached for his pocket but found nothing. He turned in a rush, taking off for the bedroom. I heard him stumble into the bathroom, the noisy fan coming to life as he flipped on the light.
I followed slowly behind, unsure if I was supposed to or not.
I found him leaning forward on the bathroom counter, his phone to his ear.
“He’s not answering.”
Taking a hesitant step forward, I placed my arms around him and felt his muscles relax slightly. “Maybe he had to go back home?”
His eyes met mine in the mirror. I could see doubt in those baby blues.
But he just nodded and said, “Yeah, maybe.”
Neither of us believed that.
I helped him finish up in the bathroom after that, noting the way he continued to check his cell phone every half hour. When the shower was put back together, we ventured into the kitchen and finished preparing dinner.
Killian had made a pot roast, something my mother had made nearly every week when I was growing up. The smell coming from the Crock-Pot brought a mixture of joy and pain as we each scooped individual helpings for ourselves.
All day, I’d been worried about that note and how it would affect me.
Me.
Not Killian.
Just me and my new perfect life.
And, since that moment, when I’d stood in front of him and handed that note over, the only thing Killian had done was take care of me.
That was all he ever did.
He moved silently to the coffee table in the living room, but I stayed in the kitchen. Grabbing two pieces of plain bread, I quickly popped them in the toaster.
Waiting for bread to toast was like watching nail polish dry.
It took forever when you were in a hurry.
Fortunately, after snagging the butter and a few other things from the fridge, time was up. With the tips of my fingers, I gingerly snatched the toast and headed out of the kitchen.
And straight for the dining room.
It took a few seconds for him to notice my detour.
“Are you serious?” he asked the moment he saw me set my plate down on the forbidden table.
I simply nodded.
A wide grin spread across his face.
“Are you sure you don’t want cereal for this occasion?”
I laughed. “Maybe next time. Tonight, I thought we’d share another family favorite.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t waste any time. Jumping up from the floor, he joined me at the table, opposite me. I placed a piece of toast next to him, and the mate was left for me.
“Are you going to sit down?” he asked, watching me as I stood there, staring down at my plate.
“Yes. In a minute. I promise.”
“Take your time.”
He slid into one of the stained oak chairs. They’d been my mom’s favorite. Probably more formal than I’d ever pick out, but it didn’t matter.
Just running my hands over the solid grain, I felt closer to her.
A tear ran down my cheek as I finally took a deep breath, lowering myself into the seat that was always reserved for my mother.
And, now, me.
“Whenever my mom made pot roast, she’d almost always forget the bread until it was too late. I loved those crescent rolls in the containers that popped open. Anyway, she’d be dishing out dinner when she’d suddenly remember those stupid crescent rolls lying in the back of the refrigerator. So, one night, I suggested, being the bread-loving kid I was, that we have toast.”
“And, let me guess…it became a household staple?”
I nodded, grabbing my piece of toast before reaching for the butter. “Yeah. I wasn’t big on cooking. Shocker, I know. But I could toast up a mean piece of bread on pot-roast night.”
“Well, I think it’s a perfect addition,” he said, holding up his own piece in a mock salute.
We settled into our meal. The moment that tender meat hit my mouth, I nearly groaned with delight. I really had been missing out while eating takeout for all these years.
I’d been missing out on a lot actually.
“I love you,” I blurted out over pot roast and buttered toast.
He looked up at me, slightly stunned.
I knew it wasn’t the first time, but there had yet to be a second. And I doubted he’d expected it now at the inaugural dinner at my dead parents’ dining room table.
He opened his mouth to respond, but instead, he set his fork down and rose from the table. “I’m sorry,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “I have to go.”
I joined him, rising from my seat in an instant. “What is it? What did I do?”
He shook his head. “Why do you always think it’s something you did, Kate?”
His napkin fell to the floor, and I felt the air shift as he brushed past me.
And then he was gone.
The door slammed shut, and all I was left with was a pot roast and a million questions.
It took me exactly five minutes to make the decision to go after him.
The first minute or so, I had spent staring down at my half-eaten plate of pot roast, trying to figure out what in the world had just happened. The next two and a half minutes, I’d blamed myself, concluding it had to be something I had done or said that sent Killian running for the hills.
And then reality had hit.
I remembered the moment before he’d left.
“Why do you always think it’s something you did, Kate?”
He was right.
Not only did I blame myself for everything that had happened around me—from my coffee order being made wrong in the morning to my own parents’ deaths—but I also always found a way to turn every situation and make it about me.
But life didn’t work that way.
Relationships certainly didn’t.
It was time for me to take a step back and stop blaming myself for everything. Otherwise, I’d be sitting here, staring at countless more meals, wondering what I had done wrong this time.
I didn’t want endless meals with faceless men.
I just wanted Killian.
The last minute or so of my mind-blowing epiphany had been spent running around, trying to find a matching pair of shoes. It might have actually taken longer than sixty seconds.
I really needed to organize my shoes.
Racing down to my car, I realized I didn’t have one.
He’d taken it.
The nonconfrontational part of me gave a little sigh of relief and opted to go back upstairs. If he had taken my car, surely, he was planning on returning, right?
I could just eat ice cream until he came back.
I immediately shut that idea down and got into action.
Sitting on the couch, eating ice cream, was not how one went about claiming her new life. Although it did sound like a good option for afterward.
Grabbing my cell phone from my purse, I opened the handy little app Jane had downloaded the last time she came to town, and within minutes, a nice man named John arrived, ready to take me wherever I needed to go.
I reminded myself to thank Jane in a future call.
Giving him directions to the other side of town, I said a silent prayer that Killian would be there.
Because I hadn’t given much thought to where he actually might be.
Not that he’d given many hints when he stormed out of my apartment. But I was going with my gut, and it was telling me to go to the crappy hotel across town.
Why?
It was where I would have gone, and ever since he’d gotten that note from Liam, he hadn’t been the same. He’d tried to brush it off, playing the cool and collected older brother, but I could see the worry in his face.
This wasn’t typical behavior for Liam.
Thankfully, John left me to my thoughts, and soon, we arrived at the shabby hotel Killian had once called home. I thanked John, making sure he received a nice tip, and then I headed for the entrance.
The girl I’d become close with early on was off tonight, and instead, there was an older-looking gentleman behind the counter.
He gave me a gentle nod as I briskly walked toward the elevators, not bothering to check in. I knew where I was headed.
One silent elevator ride later, and I was almost there.
The room Killian and Liam had been occupying was the farthest from the elevator, but I knew there was something wrong before I got halfway down the hall.
The door was wide open.
My walk turned into a run, and I sprinted into the room.
Clothes were everywhere. Furniture was flipped over, lamps were broken, and paper had been thrown about.
And in the midst of it was Killian hunched over on the bed, looking lost and alone.
“What happened?” I asked softly.
His vacant eyes met mine.
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I don’t know.”
I joined him, taking the spot next to him, as my hand reached toward his.
“I should have checked on him. I knew he was in trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
Talking was making him restless, and he rose from the bed, pacing in front of me, as he spoke, “My brother is different. He’s smart, like child prodigy smart.”
My eyes widened. “I had no idea.”
“Not many people do,” he said. “He has several degrees and is a fucking genius when it comes to computers and technology.”
“Wow, that’s amazing.”
“No, it’s terrifying. He’s not like those nerds you see on TV. He has no vision beyond his own self-gain. He hasn’t held down a job since…well, ever, and he gets his rocks off by doing stupid shit for stupid people.”
“Stupid people who would do something like this?” I asked, taking a look around.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“This isn’t the first time?” I guessed.
He shook his head. “No. I’ve bailed him out a few times. Small stuff, like identity-stealing for petty criminals, and a few bigger ones that required some serious cash.”
“I’m so sorry. I—”
He froze, and his eyes widened. Turning toward me, he asked frantically, “Have you checked your bank account recently? Today?”
“No.”
“Do it now. Pull it up on your phone.”
“I don’t understand why—”
“Just do it, please.”
I did as he’d asked, pulling out my phone and logging into my secure app. My hands shook as I waited for it to load.
He knew the answer before I even spoke.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Oh my God,” I said softly.
“How much did he take, Kate?” he asked as the pacing began once again. “I told him to keep the fuck away. I told him not to touch your money.”
I sat there, staring at my bank account, which was now twenty-five thousand dollars slimmer. “What do you mean? How did he know anything about my bank account? My money? How did you?”
His eyes met mine, and in them, I could see so many emotions.
Sadness.
Regret.
Doubt.
I’d once read somewhere that a person’s eyes were the windows to their soul.
I’d seen Killian’s soul and it was dripping with deceit.
I began to back away as he stepped closer. The door that was wide open shut behind me as I felt it push against my back with a startling finality.
This was it.
The big precipice I’d been fearing.
I’d thought that pink note of doom was a false alarm.
Turned out I was wrong.
Just a delayed reaction.
And, now, my life was about to explode.
Ready, set…boom.