There are many things in life that I let affect me. I’ve hardened myself to a lot of shit over the years. I had to claw my way up to where I’d made it in life, when other people had things handed to them. I’ve had people rant and rave, burst into tears or worse, and it’s never affected me, but the look on her face when I told her where I’d been and why I’d gone sliced through me like a dagger. She threatened to completely unravel and destroy me with a look.

Her unhappiness unsettled me more than anything I’d experienced in a long time. I couldn’t let her go. I shouldn’t have told her. The minute she stood, my heart started pounding. Any pain from my bruised mouth was completely forgotten. I had one purpose. One focus, and that was wiping away her sadness and anger I’d caused the one way I knew how. With her under me.

And it worked for a time. It was working now, with me and her in this bed, but what about after? What about in the light of day? In the real world, when she found out what I had planned. Her gasps, cries, and moans drove me higher than I’d ever been before and after only a couple of times together, I was addicted. I wanted more from her, needed more of her. Her smell, her touch, her taste, her everything. She’d been ready to walk out, so I needed to remind her that I’d made her feel this way and no other man would be able to do it. But I didn’t know if it would be enough.

Her gentle breathing was the only thing I could hear as she lay next to me, tucked under the navy sheets. It filled the air like music I wanted to go to sleep to every night. Every night lying beside this woman who’d invaded my mind and made me second guess everything I’d been driven to do thus far.

I brushed a curl from her neck and she squirmed and mumbled, snuggling closer to me. I couldn’t help my smile. She never failed to make me smile, whether it was in person, on the phone, or just thinking about her. The power she had over me was overwhelming and she didn’t even know it. I couldn’t let her know. I didn’t even want to admit it myself.

It had been on the tip of my tongue to ask her the question. It would have been so easy, but I’d almost lost her. When I told her I went to the gala, I did it to push her away, to put distance between us, but the minute she stood, it was like I couldn’t breathe. I knew if I let her leave I’d regret it every day, so I used the one thing I knew she wanted.

I’d laid there, with her in my arms, after we both remembered our names again and drifted off to sleep. The reflex to push her away again struck, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The shock of that sat with me.

I wrapped my arms around her, breathing her in, committing this moment to memory. I didn’t want tonight to end because I knew the things I’d have to do in the morning and the days coming would be ones she might hate me for. But for tonight, it was perfect.

* * *

The notification tone I’d grown to hate blared as the early morning sun peeked over the horizon through my curtains. I gritted my teeth and reached for her phone, but she was faster. She sat up and scrolled through it. I didn’t need to sit there and watch her worry about Rhys. I went to the bathroom and when I came back out the bed was empty.

Noise in the living room led me right to her. I stepped out to see her completely dressed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and reaching for the door. Alarm bells rang in my head, but I didn’t know what was happening. It was the weekend, she didn’t have to go to work, and not this early.

“Where are you going? What’s wrong?”

“I’m not feeling well,” she said, unconvincingly. Something was up. One minute I’m cuddling her and the next she’s ready to bolt. Her body was tense as she stood, her hand still on the door knob.

“Then don’t go all the way home. Stay here, if you aren’t feeling well,” I said, stepping closer to her. She pressed her body up against the door like she hoped she’d be able to melt her way through it. Panic rose in my throat. I didn’t want her to leave.

“I need to get home. Dahlia will worry. Can I go?” she asked, staring down at the door handle.

“Rachel—”

“Can I go, Killian? Please,” she asked, glancing up at me. And then I remembered. The rules. My rules, the ones I’d threatened her with just a little while ago. We were still playing the game. The game I started. A game I’d only thought about winning from the minute I started it, but now winning didn’t hold the same luster. I no longer cared if I won or lost. I didn’t even know if I wanted to play, but I didn’t have much of a choice because right now, I knew if we weren’t still playing she’d be out that door.

“You can go,” I said. My last word was said to the back of her head, exiting through my open door.

* * *

“Collect Call from San Quentin Correctional Facility,” the operator said. I sat for a long time staring at it. So long that I almost let it hang up. But my mother’s final words were etched permanently in my mind. I hope one day you’ll know what it means to care about someone other than yourself. What it is to care about family. I hit the green button.

“Finally ready to talk to me, huh?” my dad’s gruff voice barked out.

“I guess you could say that. What do you want?” I asked him.

“I want you to know I’ll be coming soon. There was some hang up with paperwork.”

“You’re not coming here.” Talking to him was one thing, but living with him…my mother’s words continue to burn in my ears.

“I’ll be there.”

“Dad…”

“I’ll be there, son.” He dug that knife in a little deeper. My shoulders sagged.

“Fine, I’ll set you up with a place to live. I’ve got to go.” I hung up before he had the chance to respond.

I texted Rachel again. Still no reply.

I dropped my bag inside my front door, slamming it behind me and scrolling through my phone. There were messages from Rhys telling me to double up my work on getting to the bottom of what was going on with Killian.

I banged the back of my head against the closed door. I couldn’t do it. I was compromising Rhys and all the work he did by being with Killian. Everything I said could be a slip up. I might reveal something without even realizing it. I needed to stay away from him.

I needed to keep my distance because I was playing with fire and I’d already been burned.

“What’s up with the slamming doors?” Dahlia asked, walking into the kitchen, her hair a black nest all stuck to one side of her head.

“Sorry, I—Wait, me slamming the door woke you up? You usually sleep like the dead,” I said, grabbing my mug. She grumbled and then poured a cup of coffee for herself and then filled mine halfway. I dumped a whole lot of creamer into it and then added sugar. Dahlia grimaced.

“I don’t know how you can drink it like that.” She sipped her nearly overflowing cup of black coffee. I put down the sugar and wrapped my hands around the warm mug.

“You like it your way and I like it mine.”

“How was your night with Killian?” she asked, gulping her coffee down. I rushed to drink mine, to buy me some time, but I only managed to burn the shit out of my mouth.

“Damnit,” I hissed, set down my mug, and grabbed some ice out of the freezer, rubbing it on my tongue.

“That good, huh?” she asked, quirking her eyebrow at me.

I hung my head, snapping my eyes shut against the tears that threatened to burst free at any moment.

“I have no idea what to do, Dahl. I’m way in over my head with him.”

“I think he feels the same way,” Dahl said, and I scoffed.

“I seriously doubt that.” I didn’t know anything anymore.

“It’s amazing what guys will do when they are freaking out. How they will do everything in their power to fuck things up to the point that you can’t tell if you love them or hate them anymore,” she said, gripping her mug so tightly her knuckles went white. I had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t just talking about Killian and me anymore.

“Anything you want to talk about?” I asked her.

Dahl’s eyes snapped up to mine, like she just remembered I was there.

“What? Me? No, I’m fine. Just tell me if you want me to attach his balls to the car battery and I’m all over it.”

“You don’t even have a car.”

“I have friends. I’m sure I could make arrangements,” she said, rinsing her mug in the sink and stashing it back in the cabinet.

“I’m sure you would.”

“Damn straight. No one screws with my roomie and best friend.” She bumped her shoulder against mine.

“Thanks.”

“What do you want me to do if he comes poking around here?”

“He won’t.”

“But what if he does?”

“I don’t even know. Just promise me you won’t do him any bodily harm. I don’t want you getting locked up. Who would be left to paint the city with exquisite body art, if you’re in jail doing prison tattoos?”

“I mean, they’d be pretty amazing prison tattoos, right?” Dahl loved to tease me, but her smile wasn’t reaching her eyes today.

“They would.” I walked past her, suddenly feeling exhausted, even though I’d woken up less than an hour ago.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, stopping me with her hand on my arm.

“No.” I shook my head. “But I’ll be okay.” I grabbed my music box and crawled into bed with my clothes still on. I wrapped myself in my thick blanket and watched the ballerina dance until I couldn’t hold my eyes open anymore. What will be, will be.