Chapter Thirty
Killian
Connor was home. He came to the bar this afternoon, showing up at the door as if he’d never been away.
“Where in the hell have you been?” I roared when I opened the door and saw him standing on the other side, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, with a fucking suntan. A suntan? Had he been lying around on a beach all this time?
“Miami.”
“Miami,” I repeated, looking into his eyes. They were clear. Focused. He looked good, like he’d put on some weight and muscle. “How did you get there and back?”
“Greyhound.”
What the fuck? His Harley was still parked in the backyard, covered with a tarp. But his mode of transportation was the least of my concerns. “They don’t have phones in Miami?” I inspected his arms for fresh track marks. There weren’t any.
“I’m clean. Have been for six months. I didn’t do any drugs after I got out of rehab.”
That didn’t make sense. If he’d been clean this whole time, why had he stayed away for so long? “So, you just took off on a little vacation. Fuck everyone else. Is that it?”
He looked over my shoulder. “Ava here?”
“No.”
Connor lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a breath. “Are you going to let me in?”
“Are you going to tell me what the hell you’ve been doing for five months?”
He pushed past me. I slammed the door shut and followed him out to the courtyard. “Place looks good. Did Ava do that?” he asked, jerking his chin at the honeysuckle climbing the wood trellis on the side wall.
Ava planted it, along with the mint and lavender that kept getting trampled by drunks and watered with beer and cocktails. But she tended to it every day. Like Eden, Ava was an optimist. “Yeah.”
Connor’s gaze swung to the wall Eden painted. I watched his face as he took in every detail. He crossed the courtyard and crouched in front of the wall, studying her mural up close and at eye-level. Connor looked at the world through an artist’s eye. He noticed things I didn’t, but he missed a lot too. When we were kids, he lived inside his head, a dream world he’d created to escape reality.
Sometimes I used to think it took balls to do drugs right under Seamus Vincent’s nose, but other times I recognized it for what it was—yet another way for Connor to escape the real world. When he was high, he didn’t care who he hurt or who he let down. All he cared about was chasing his next high. He’d stolen from me, lied to me, and asked for my help. I’d always gotten to Connor before Seamus did, which was nothing short of a miracle. But then, I got all of Seamus’s attention, and Connor got none. I was Connor’s human shield, his invisibility cloak.
“Now that I’m back, I’ll start going to NA meetings,” Connor told the wall. “And I’ll get a sponsor.”
“I’m giving you one last chance, Connor. If you screw up again, I can’t help you.” Who was I kidding? I’d keep giving him chances until he got it right. But if he disappeared again or went back to drugs, I didn’t want to go through that again. I’d helped him detox at home a few years ago. I’d stayed up with him through the night. Held his body in my arms to try to stop the shaking. Cleaned up his vomit. Helped him into the shower, holding on to his arm so he didn’t fall and crack his head open. I’d talked him down from wanting to kill himself when all he’d wanted was to die. Horrible didn’t even begin to describe those awful days and nights when I’d guarded over him. Finally, I’d taken him to a detox clinic and they’d dosed him with methadone, something we should have done from the start. A month later, after going to hell and back, he started doing drugs again.
He nodded. “I know. It’s something I need to do for myself.”
Maybe I should have questioned his answer, but it was the first time he’d acknowledged this was his responsibility. I wanted to believe in him. I needed to believe in him. Taking care of Connor was my job, and I hated it that I’d failed him.
“I’ll do everything in my power to support you,” I said.
“You always do,” he said, still looking at Eden’s wall. “I don’t know how you do it, Killian.”
“Do what?”
“Be you.” He turned around to face me. “I don’t know how you fucking do it. Do you just turn off a switch? Block it out? Lock it down? Is it all inside, eating away at you? Or did you punch and kick your way out?”
I clenched my jaw. “I’ve got shit to do. I don’t have time—”
“I’m not the only one with an addiction problem.”
“I don’t have an addiction problem.”
“You’re addicted to pain.”
“Fuck you.” I left him in the courtyard, stalked down the hallway and into the office, slamming the door shut behind me.
You’re addicted to pain.
Who did this to you, Killian?
I’d never hurt you, Killian.
The door swung open and Connor filled the doorway. “I’m not leaving again. I’m done running.” I didn’t answer. “Did you hear me?”
“I heard you. Do you want a medal? Should I throw a party?”
“Who painted the wall?” he asked. “Who’s Eden?”
Who is Eden? She’s everything. But she still had no idea how fucked up I was. Every day she made me happier than the day before, and every day I worried that I’d ruin us. That a guy like me wasn’t cut out for a healthy, functional relationship. I had no guidelines, no blueprint to follow, no role models to emulate. All I had was my gut feeling that told me this was real, and it was good, and I’d never known anything like it. I wanted to hang onto it for as long as I could before the house of cards came tumbling down.
“I hired her in June,” I said. “She’s a bartender.”
“A bartender?”
As if on cue, my cell phone rang. “Hey, baby,” I answered, without thinking.
“Hey baby right back at you.”
“Everything okay?”
“Just taking a water break. Someone told me I need to stay hydrated.”
“Someone’s giving you good advice.”
“I always take it too.”
I chuckled. “No you don’t.”
She laughed. “Usually.”
“How many visitors since I last saw you?” Friends were always stopping by to hang out with her—Hailey, Ava, Chris, Brody, Zeke…even her favorite barista delivered coffee. Not to mention Jared and the other tattoo artists popping out for a chat.
“Not so many. I’m almost done.”
“Call me when you finish. I’ll pick you up.”
“Okay,” she said. “Gotta go. Jared’s here to inspect the damage.”
“Not the damage. The masterpiece.”
“I stand corrected.”
“See you soon,” I said.
“Can’t wait.”
When I cut the call, Connor smirked at me. “Holy shit. I can’t believe what I just heard. Killian Vincent, the walking one-night stand, has a girlfriend?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t say that shit in front of her.”
“Whoa. You’re serious about this girl. Is she an MMA fan?”
“No.”
“She’s a bartender. And an artist,” he guessed. “Eden?”
“Don’t fuck this up for me, Connor.”
“You act like I don’t want you to be happy.”
“Why would I think that? Your disappearing acts? The money you stole from me? The lies and the drugs? You have a gift, Connor. You had a scholarship to art school. And you had Ava. You had everything. But you threw it all away.”
“I told you. I’m getting my shit together. And I’m going to pay back every cent I owe you.”
I didn’t give a shit about the money. I needed answers. “What were you doing in Miami?”
“Working at a tattoo parlor.”
This wasn’t adding up. Why did he go to Miami when he had a job here? A job he loved. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I was working through some stuff and I needed space,” he said, not meeting my eye. He was lying about something, but I didn’t know what or why. “I needed time. But I swear on my life, everything will be different now. I’m going to do the work. I know my word’s not good anymore. But I’m going to prove it to you. One day at a time. I’m just asking you to have a little faith in me.”
Have a little faith. Yeah, I guess that was what I needed to do. No matter what he did, he was still my brother, and there was nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for him. He knew that.
“I need to talk to Jared,” he said. “See if he’ll take me back.”
“He will. Eden’s there now.”
“She’s a tattoo artist too?”
I met his gaze. “No.”
“Jared’s wall,” Connor said, working his jaw.
That’s what happens when you skip town.
It was supposed to be Connor’s wall to paint. Jared wanted to wait for Connor to come back. Despite all the drugs Connor had done over the years, he’d somehow managed to hold down his job. The way Jared talked about Connor, you’d think he was a prodigy. An artistic genius. Brilliant with a streak of madness. A free spirit, Jared called him. Junkie was the word he left out.
I talked Jared into letting Eden paint the wall. He wouldn’t have said yes if he didn’t think she was good, but Eden didn’t need to know that Jared promised the wall to Connor. Jared asked her to paint a skull, roses, and wings—Connor’s idea. But Connor never sketched anything in advance, so Eden could do her own version of it.
“She’s good,” Connor said.
“I know.”
“Killian,” Ava sing-songed. “I’ve been shop—”
“Ava Blue,” Connor said. He called her Blue for Bluebird. Connor loved birds. No mystery there.
“Connor,” she said, her voice hushed.
He wrapped her up in his arms, and she looked so tiny, and so fragile.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
“I know.”
They disappeared, and I placed an order with the beer distributor. Fixed a broken soap dispenser in the men’s room. Conducted an inventory in the liquor room. Jotted down a to-do list for Ava. I knew the drill. She’d be a wreck for the next few days, and her organized brain would be thrown into chaos. After today’s talk, she’d refuse to speak to Connor. Sometimes that went on for weeks or even months. They’d broken up over three years ago, right around the time Connor had gotten clean the first time, but I’d given up trying to figure out their screwed-up relationship.
Eden called to tell me she was done so I headed out. I didn’t know why I spent so much time working at the bar, taking on all the problems. Louis said I was a workaholic. Connor said I was addicted to pain. Eden said everyone had their own coping mechanisms. Keeping busy, taking care of problems I could fix, was what I did.
“Wait up,” Connor said, as I was on my way out the door. “I’ll come with you.”
We drove in silence. I watched him in my peripheral, trying to gauge his mood. I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say that wouldn’t come out sounding angry, so I kept my mouth shut. Up ahead, I saw Eden across the street from her wall, snapping photos. The way the sun hit her, she shimmered like gold, I swear to God. I eased off the accelerator as we approached. If I were an artist or a photographer, I’d want to capture her at this very moment.
“Jesus Christ,” Connor said. “That’s her?”
“That’s her.”
I pulled into a spot farther up the street, so I wouldn’t ruin her photos, and cut the engine. She lowered her camera and looked over at the Jeep, her lips widening into a smile. Her gaze swung to the passenger seat and her mouth formed an O.
“Does she know about me?” Connor asked.
I nodded. Eden didn’t know everything. But she knew about the drugs and rehab, and she knew how worried I’d been that he hadn’t contacted me.
“She’s beautiful,” Connor said.
“Yeah, she is.”
“Is that a smile?” he asked. “Holy shit. It’s a smile. Can I get a photo?”
I punched his arm, he punched me back, and we grinned at each other like two idiots. Then we got out of the Jeep and joined Eden on the sidewalk. Being Eden, she welcomed him with open arms and told him how happy she was he came home. She said all the things I’d wanted to say to Connor, but didn’t—couldn’t.
* * *
I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Laughter and music drifted from the kitchen and I stopped in the hallway, listening. I didn’t know what Eden cooked but whatever it was, it made this crappy house smell like a home. It felt like a home. All because she was in it. I didn’t know what to do with this feeling, so I walked back out the door I’d just entered and stood on the front steps. Warehouses lined the street across from me, their corrugated metal doors closed for the night. The old water tower rose up behind them, next to a derelict eight-story warehouse with burnt-out windows. Out here, it smelled like burnt rubber and motor oil. Inside, it smelled like home.
I took a few deep breaths and went back inside.
“Killian?” Eden called. She walked into the hallway, barefoot in a little blue cotton dress, loose waves of blonde hair falling around her shoulders. Her face lit up with a smile just for me, and it felt like someone sucker punched me in the stomach. She jumped into my arms and I caught her, holding on tight as she wrapped her legs around my waist. Eden held my face in her hands and peered into it, seeing too much, as usual. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I forced a smile. I wasn’t okay, but I didn’t know how to articulate what I was feeling. She wouldn’t understand why happiness scared me. In my life, whenever anything had gone well, I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It always did. But maybe this time it would be different. Connor was home, he wasn’t using, and Eden and I were on our way to something so good I didn’t have a word for it.
“I hope you like lasagna,” she said. “I also made salad and brownies, but Connor ate half the tray of brownies.”
“She wouldn’t let me touch the lasagna until you got home,” Connor yelled from the kitchen. “So, get your ass in here. I’m starving.”
Eden laughed and kissed me on the lips. She slid out of my arms, took my hand in hers and led me into the kitchen. The island was set for dinner with two wine glasses, and water for Connor.
“Eden did all the laundry.” Connor grabbed a cucumber slice from the salad and tossed it into his mouth.
“What do you mean by all the laundry?” I asked.
“Hers, mine, yours. All of it.”
“I don’t want you to do our laundry.”
“Sit down and be quiet,” Eden said, dishing up the lasagna.
I pulled up a stool across from Connor. “What were you doing while she cooked and did all the laundry?”
“Connor helped me,” Eden said, setting a plate of lasagna in front of me.
Connor shook his head no.
“You carried the grocery bags. And helped me shop. And you kept me company.”
“And he ate half the fucking brownies,” I grumbled.
“You don’t even eat brownies,” Eden said, sitting next to me.
“Not the point.”
“Nobody’s ever taken care of Killian. He doesn’t know how to handle it,” Connor said, shoveling a huge bite of lasagna into his mouth.
He wasn’t lying about the drugs. When Connor was doing drugs, he didn’t eat like he was starving. And he was right. I didn’t know how to handle it.
Eden poured wine into my glass and gave Connor an apologetic smile.
“I told you it was okay,” he said. “Really. I don’t even like wine.”
It was probably true. Alcohol had never been his problem.
Eden nudged my arm. “Eat your dinner and drink some wine. And get used to it. I like doing things for you.”
Connor grinned at me. “Eden is the best thing that ever happened to you.”
She laughed like it was a joke, but Connor wasn’t joking. It was the truth.
After the night she cooked for me and Connor, Eden was pretty much living with us. Her shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel lived in our shower, her toothbrush in the holder, her makeup and perfume on my dresser top, her clothes in a duffel bag on my bedroom floor. After four days of watching her dig through her bag to find clothes, I cleared space in my closet and gave her one of my dresser drawers. She unpacked her things and put them away. We’d never discussed this new living arrangement, but she knew I worried about leaving Connor on his own every night and I wanted to spend my nights with her.
“Are you guys getting tired of me yet?” she asked one rainy, lazy Sunday afternoon, about a week into this new living arrangement while we were watching one of the Fast & Furious movies. Connor asked us to pause it while he tended to his microwave popcorn. Eden and I were on the sofa, her head resting in my lap, and I tipped my chin down to look at her face.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you,” I said, and I meant it. I couldn’t imagine a day when I wouldn’t want to see her face, listen to her conversation, just be with her.
She smiled. “It’s nice to see you relax.”
“You told me it was mandatory.”
“Do you ever get scared?”
I wrapped a lock of her hair around my fingers. “Of what?”
“Us. It’s just…everything is so good with us. It feels so right.”
I looked over in the corner, at the artwork she rolled up when she wasn’t working on it. She wanted to paste it on the concrete tower on top of the eight-story burnt-out warehouse. So far, she’d sketched the curl of wave with a surfer girl inside the barrel. It looked like the wave was about to crash over her head. Or, if you were an optimist, the girl would ride it out. Eden called it: Finding Peace in the Chaos.
“That scares you?” It surprised me she had the same fears I did.
“Sometimes. Now that I have you, I don’t want to lose you. I think…” She chewed on her lip. “My heart would break for real.”
Jesus. “You’re not going to lose me. You’re stuck with me.” I hoped it was a promise I could keep.
“Popcorn?” Connor asked, holding out the bowl. Eden sat up and dug her hand in the bowl, coming out with a big handful.
“Thanks Connor.”
I waved the bowl away. Connor always melted tons of butter on it and sometimes he sprinkled sugar and cinnamon over it. “Mm, sweet and buttery,” Eden said. “This is sooo good.”
Connor smirked at me and collapsed in his chair, setting the bowl on the coffee table for him and Eden to share. She scooted closer for better access to the popcorn and I hit play on the remote and pretended to watch the movie.
Before Eden, I didn’t know what love felt like. Now I did.