Chapter Fifteen
Eden
Killian held me in his arms, stroking my hair, his touch so gentle I thought I was imagining it. “Killian?”
He pressed his forehead against mine. “Why did you do that, baby?”
Did he just call me baby? Was he sitting on the ground? With his forehead pressed against mine? Mm, he smelled good.
“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” I murmured.
He pulled away and looked at my face. “I’m built to take a punch. You’re not.”
Did I get punched? I rubbed my head and felt a lump under my fingers. “My head hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked on the word, and his arms around me tightened. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“But what—” I looked over at two police officers who had just arrived on the scene. A small crowd had gathered, and everyone was talking at once. Why were the cops here?
“Killian,” one of the cops said, like he knew Killian. “Do we need to call your father?”
His father? “Don’t call him,” I said, without thinking.
Killian gave me a little squeeze. “Shhh. It’s okay.” Somehow, still holding me in his arms, Killian got to his feet. I couldn’t imagine what kind of muscles he needed to perform that maneuver so smoothly.
“No,” Killian said, shaking his head at the cop. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Are you okay, miss?” the other cop asked.
“I’m okay.” I had no idea what I was, except drunk and confused, and in Killian’s arms where I felt safe.
“She’s not okay,” Killian said. “She needs a paramedic. She fell and hit her head.”
“The paramedics are on their way,” someone said.
“Can you tell me what happened?” the cop asked me. “How did you hit your head?”
“I don’t know.”
“We were told there was a fight.”
Hailey rushed over and stood next to the cop. “I saw it. Killian tried to get Eden out of the way because that guy…” Hailey was pointing at something or someone I couldn’t see. “Adam. He attacked Killian. And she jumped in to…I don’t know what Eden was doing. But she would have gotten punched by that asshole if Killian hadn’t pushed her out of the way. We’ve been drinking so she stumbled and fell,” Hailey said, as if that explained everything.
Oh my God. I was an idiot. I closed my eyes. All I wanted to do was sleep. “You need to stay awake, baby.” Killian’s voice came from somewhere far away. “Open your eyes.”
Baby. There it was again. Was I dreaming? “But I’m tired,” I mumbled. “So tired.”
“I know you are. But just stay awake for me. Please,” he said, a desperation in his voice I’d never heard before.
“For you…” I forced my eyes open and snuggled against his chest. It wasn’t a bad place to hang out. Not bad at all. “I’ll stay awake.”
The paramedics arrived and whisked me off to the hospital in an ambulance, despite my protests I was fine. Because Killian insisted I wasn’t.
* * *
I woke up when I heard a door shutting and the locks clicking into place, still groggy, my mouth desert-dry, and a jackhammer pounding inside my head. A soft knock came on my bedroom door followed by the door opening. Killian was carrying a paper bag and two coffees, one of which was iced coffee, the exact shade of creaminess I liked it.
I pulled the sheet over my head and heard Killian chuckling. “I know you’re in there, Sunshine.”
Sunshine. Right now, I felt more like a storm cloud. What was going on here? Baby repeated in my head, along with a million other things I’d rather not remember, some of which I didn’t. My night still had gaps I couldn’t fill in.
“I’m so embarrassed. I can’t come out.”
“Not even for coffee? With two sugars?”
I lowered the sheet. I was acting like an idiot, which seemed to be a trend for me lately. He pressed the cold cup in my hand. “Thank you,” I said, unable to meet his eye.
He set the bag on my bedside table and fished my house keys out of his pocket, setting them next to the bag. I could only assume he’d borrowed the keys from my handbag. “What’s in the bag?”
“Your barista buddy said you like the cinnamon rolls. But I also got you a superfood salad.”
I opted for the cinnamon roll, and he looked disappointed in my choice. “You can eat the salad later,” he said.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him the salad looked about as appetizing as a superfood salad could look. Lots of sprouts and…I couldn’t even identify half the ingredients, and I didn’t want to.
Killian wandered over to my white minimalist dresser and checked out the silver-framed photos—Sawyer and I at Lejeune when he graduated boot camp, my entire family in Stone Harbor, a few more family vacation photos without my mom, and one that was just me and my mom. A framed oil painting my mom had painted, of the swimming hole we went to as kids, hung above my dresser. The bottle green water, darker in the middle where it was deepest, and flecked with sunlight. The wooded path leading up to the jumping-off rocks where we used to cannonball or do flips into the water. Standing up there, it used to look impossibly high. When my feet left the ledge, I used to imagine I’d soar above the trees.
“Yours?” Killian asked, referring to the painting.
“My mom’s.”
Sitting cross-legged on my bed, with my back against the headboard, I drank my coffee and ate my cinnamon roll. Killian sat on the floor, his back leaning against the closet door and drank his coffee. All the events of last night ran through my head while I ate and drank. As bad luck would have it, none of it had been a dream. Killian had been detained for questioning, so Hailey had ridden in the ambulance with me. When Killian arrived at the hospital, he sent Hailey home in a taxi. He’d gotten a little crazy and had persuaded the doctor to run every test and scan known to man. The tests revealed that I was fine, and the bump on my head was not a concussion, but even the doctor’s assurances hadn’t put Killian at ease.
He’d been a wreck, worried beyond what the situation had warranted. The part I’d played in ending up in the hospital was so mortifying I hadn’t talked to him about it yet. All night in the ER, his forehead had been creased with worry. When they finally released me, he’d driven me home, and insisted on staying on the sofa in case I needed him. I didn’t need him. I’d passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow, something he’d insisted I couldn’t do while I’d been in the hospital, and now here he was sitting in my bedroom that suddenly felt too small and cramped.
“How’s your head? Are you okay?” he asked, worry creeping into his voice again.
“I’m fine. Except for the hangover and the embarrassment. I’m sorry. Last night…everything that happened…it was all my fault.”
“I pushed you out of the way. That’s why you got hurt.”
“So, I wouldn’t get punched by Adam. That’s why you did it. I heard Hailey tell the cops.” And I vaguely remembered it.
He shook his head and exhaled, like he didn’t believe me, and I could see the guilt written all over his face. Last night, Killian had dropped his guard around me and even my addled brain had seen his emotions on full display.
“It wasn’t your fault. It was my fault for getting drunk. And it was Adam’s fault for acting like a douchebag. You were trying to help me. He’s the one who came after you. You just tried to defend yourself and me. You weren’t looking for a fight.” Which was true. Killian had tried to walk away, and he would have if Adam hadn’t attacked him.
“I wanted to kill him.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. He’s not worth a prison sentence.”
Killian averted his head and clenched his jaw, the muscle in his cheek jumping. He was white-knuckling his cardboard coffee cup and I was surprised his grip didn’t crush the cup and turn it into a handful of dust.
“Did you meet him there on a date?” he asked, making a concerted effort to keep his voice neutral. If he’d been on the phone, I would have bought it, but I could see all the tension rolling off him.
“No. Adam and his friend just happened to come in while Hailey and I were there. And they sat at our table.”
“Asshole.”
“I know,” I said, grateful he didn’t tell me I told you so. Adam had two faces and I’d decided I didn’t like either one of them.
“Did you know Adam was doing coke last night?” Killian asked, watching my face.
“No. I had no idea.” Wow. Talk about stupid. I hadn’t even noticed. That was probably why he’d gotten so aggressive. “Why were you at The Rooftop?”
“You called me.”
I didn’t remember calling him or talking to him. “Oh. Did we…talk?” I was so drunk. I dreaded to think what I said to him. He rubbed the back of his neck and I winced. Maybe I needed to hide under the covers again. Whatever I said had prompted him to leave work and come to The Rooftop. But whatever I’d said, he wasn’t sharing it with me. I tried another tactic. “Why did you leave work?” According to Louis and everyone else, Killian never left work or took a night off.
Killian blew air out of his cheeks. “I was worried about you. I worry about you all the God damn time.” He sounded angry that he’d been forced to admit it.
“I don’t want you to worry about me.”
“Next time someone is looking for a fight, stay out of the way, okay?” he said, his face softer than I’d ever seen it.
“I was trying to stop him.”
“How? By taking a punch?” he asked incredulously.
Not one of my better ideas, I could admit that now. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“How much tequila did it take to make that seem like a good idea?”
I rubbed my aching head and groaned. “Too much. I’m never drinking again.”
“Famous last words.”
“Yeah.” I snuck a glance at him. He was drinking his coffee, eyeing me over the rim of the cup. I should have stayed under the sheet. I could only imagine what I looked like right now, after my night of drunken debauchery and stupidity. Wearing a paint-stained T-shirt and cotton sleep shorts. In an attempt to look more presentable, I ran my fingers through the tangles of my hair but gave up. Even my hair hurt.
“I spoke to your dad,” he said casually, like this was perfectly normal.
My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped, my hangover temporarily forgotten. “What? Nooo. You called my dad? Oh my God. What did you tell him?”
Killian chuckled which did not seem like the appropriate response. “That you fell and hit your head.”
“Did you give him the details?”
“I’ll leave that up to you.”
Well, that was something, at least. “Why did you call him?”
“I needed your insurance information to fill out the paperwork.”
I closed my eyes. “What did he say?”
“He wasn’t surprised to hear you were in the ER. Sounds like he spent your whole childhood taking you and your brother in.”
I let out a loud sigh, unable to dispute that.
“Did you think that jumping from the second-floor window onto a trampoline was going to end well?” he asked, sounding amused.
My dad was not a big talker. I was surprised he’d shared that story with Killian. Did they bond over tales of my childhood antics and injuries? “What he doesn’t know is that I nailed the landing the next time. With my arm in a cast,” I said triumphantly.
Killian shook his head and exhaled. “Trouble magnet. What am I going to do with you?”
I wanted to tell him exactly what he could do with me and once again, his hands, mouth and body were very much involved. But I didn’t think this was the right time to get into that. Not after last night’s disaster. Not to mention the way he’d been acting before last night.
My phone rang, and one glance at the screen told me it was my dad. “Ugh. I need a story.” I picked up my phone from the bedside table, and Killian stood to leave. I held up my hand and sent him puppy dog eyes. “Wait. Don’t go yet.”
“Wait?”
I nodded. “Moral support.” I answered my phone and squeezed my eyes shut, chewing on my lower lip.
“Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“What landed you in the ER?” he asked, cutting right to the chase.
“Oh, well, it was nothing.” I cleared my throat and looked over at Killian who was leaning against my bedroom door frame, an amused expression on his face. He couldn’t wait to hear how I got out of this one, I bet. “I tripped and fell and hit my head. The whole ambulance and ER thing was totally unnecessary.” I waved my hand in the air even though he couldn’t see me.
“Uh huh. What was your blood alcohol level?”
“My blood alcohol level?” I rolled my eyes, but that hurt too. “You’re such a cop. I only had a couple margaritas.” I crossed my fingers, ignoring Killian’s raised brows. “It must have been the sun. We were sitting outside. And when I went inside to use the bathroom, it was kind of dark and I missed a step and tripped and fell. Health and safety issue, really.” Killian’s chest was rumbling with silent laughter and still, I kept going, digging myself a bigger hole. “In fact, I should register a complaint. I’ll get on that today. Give them hell for it.”
“I’ve been your father for twenty-two years. You think I don’t know when you’re lying?”
“Are you calling me a liar?” I asked, incensed. He grunted. Like a caveman. I should have been fluent in the language by now. “Whatever. The point is I’m fine, and I’m sorry you got that call. It was good talking to you. I’m sure you’re busy.”
He grunted again. “Sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure. I’ve got a hard skull. Tough to crack.”
My dad chuckled. “Got that right.” He paused, and I heard an announcement in the background. He was probably hanging out at Lowe’s, stocking up on more tools or charcoal for the barbecue. “Who’s Killian?”
“Oh…uh, Killian…he’s…my boss. Or, you know, one of my bosses. I work for him. How’s Kate? Did you ask her on a date yet?” I smothered a laugh. “You really should. She’s got the hots for you. She’s quite the catch, Dad. Better hurry before some doctor snatches her up. You’ll need a nurse in your old age.”
My dad muttered something unintelligible, then got back on topic, undeterred by my attempt at sidetracking him. “Killian was worried about you.”
“Oh, well…he probably doesn’t want me to miss any work. He’s a slave driver. And you know I can take care of myself. Nothing to worry about here.”
Killian and my dad snorted simultaneously. I rolled my eyes. Last night’s antics didn’t support my claim. At all.
“Getting drunk won’t make you feel any better. Just forget about Luke,” my dad said gruffly.
I chewed on my bottom lip. “I’m over it.”
“Good. You deserve better.” His voice was gruff again. My dad wasn’t great at discussing emotions or displaying them, but he’d always been in my corner, and I’d never doubted his love. “Call me if you need me, kiddo.”
“Bye, Dad.”
I cut the call and tossed my phone on the bedside table. Killian was still standing in my doorway. “He didn’t buy my story.”
“You’re a shitty liar.”
“I know. I’ve never mastered the art.”
“That’s a good thing. Your dad seems like a good guy.”
“Yeah. He’s the best.” Killian gave me a little smile. Something the cop said last night came back to me. “Why did that cop want to call your dad?”
Killian rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s NYPD. Chief of Police.”
My jaw dropped. The man who came into the bar and insulted Killian was a cop? Not just a cop, but one of the head honchos. “Wow. That’s—”
“Brody’s covering your shift tonight,” Killian said, cutting me off. He obviously didn’t want to discuss his dad, and I couldn’t blame him. “And your boss is leaving.”
What was I supposed to call him? “I’m okay to work,” I protested, following him out to the living room on somewhat shaky legs.
“Get some rest,” he said, opening my apartment door. “You’ll need your energy if you want to paint the wall in the courtyard.”
The wall? I tried to make sense of what he said. Then, it dawned on me. I’d texted to ask if I could paint the wall and he was okay with it? I stopped in the open doorway. “Really?” I asked, barely able to contain my excitement. “You’d let me do that?”
“Sure. Why not?”
I gave him a big smile. “Thank you. For everything.”
“No problem.” He reached out his hand as if to touch me, but withdrew it, and I felt a pang of loss for something that never happened.