Chapter Thirty-Two
Eden
I heard footsteps on the stairs, slower and more labored than the way he’d descended them and then he was standing in front of me. He pulled me to my feet and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. Killian had always made me feel safe. But he’d never been safe, not even in his own house. I wanted to be strong for him, but I was the one breaking down, crying for Killian’s lost childhood, and he was the one holding me together.
How could anyone hurt beautiful Killian? His father was a monster.
I took a shaky breath. “I hate him for what he did to you.”
“It was a long time ago.”
It didn’t matter how much time had passed. It had happened, and his father had gotten away with it. Killian hadn’t wanted me to hear any of that, just like he’d never wanted me to hear the conversation with his father at the bar. If Connor hadn’t said something today, would Killian have ever told me?
“Don’t be mad at Connor,” I said. “He loves you so much.”
Killian exhaled sharply. “He should have kept his mouth shut.”
“He’s right. It needed to be said.”
“How can it help to dredge up ancient history?”
“I don’t know. Just…he should be made responsible for his actions.”
“It was a long time ago,” Killian said, sounding weary.
I pulled away from him a little and put my hands on his chest. He took my face in his hands and ran his thumbs under my eyes, wiping away the tears. “Don’t cry for me,” he said, softly kissing my lips.
“I can’t help it.” My fingers traced the scar on his neck. He wrapped his hand around my wrist and pulled my hand away. For fifteen years, he’d lived with this reminder. For fifteen years, he’d been telling a lie about how he got it.
“I’m okay,” he said.
I didn’t know how that could possibly be true. But I loved him even more now than I did earlier. I loved him for his scars and wounds and his battered heart, for his strength, and his loyalty to Connor, and now I understood the meaning of the phoenix tattooed on his back. Killian had risen from the ashes and he’d made something of his life, despite the shitty hand he’d been dealt.
“I wish I could make things better for you.”
His hands moved to the side of my neck. “You already do.” And then he was kissing me, his fingers sliding through my hair, his hand holding the back of my head. He tugged down my drawstring shorts and underwear. I stepped out of them and kicked them aside, unbuttoning his jeans. We pulled apart long enough to shed the rest of our clothes in haste. Killian walked me backwards, his lips on mine, our tongues swirling together, until the back of my legs hit the side of his bed.
I scooted back on the bed and lay down on his pillow, and he covered me with the weight of his body. I gave him my body, my heart, and my soul. I gave him all of me. For a little while, the world disappeared, and it was just the two of us living in a beautiful moment. With no past, no tears, no sadness, or pain. We were our bodies—skin, muscle, bones. We were our hearts—strong, resilient, steadily beating. We were our souls—pure, yearning, connected. We were everything.
Afterwards, we held each other close and the world came rushing back.
“You good now?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I wasn’t one hundred percent good, because of everything I’d heard downstairs. But I was okay because he came back, and he didn’t run away from me, even though he wanted to. I meant something to him. My feelings mattered to him. After all his secrets had been revealed, he stayed. For me. But, still, I couldn’t just let it go. “Are you hiding anything else from me?”
“You looking to rattle more skeletons in the closet?”
“Are there any?”
“No.” He lifted his head and looked over my shoulder at the clock on his bedside table. “We need to go.”
He was dressed and ready in two seconds flat. While I finished getting ready for work, he lounged on the bed, doing something on his phone. Most likely he was checking in with Louis to make sure everything was okay without him. I changed into jeans, a Trinity Bar T-shirt, and my motorcycle boots. Ran a brush through my hair, applied a few coats of mascara, brushed blush onto my cheekbones, and slicked on some pinky-brown gloss. I was ready in five minutes. Not bad.
Killian was still lounging on the bed, his fingers laced behind his head, watching me. “What?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Ready?”
“Born ready.” I gave him a flirty wink, but his face was serious. I wondered if he was thinking about what happened earlier with Seamus, or if he was taking a bad trip down memory lane.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked, knowing full well guys hated that question. My brothers clued me in years ago. Garrett told me sometimes guys aren’t thinking about anything, but girls always assume they’re thinking something heavy, deep, and real. Sawyer never bothered to explain anything. He usually told me to get off his case, or he’d just walk away without answering.
“You,” Killian said. “I was thinking about you.”
“Good things or bad things?” I asked as we walked down the stairs. The TV blared in the living room, and it sounded like an action film with things getting blown up.
“Good.”
“Bye, Connor,” I yelled into the living room.
“Bye, Eden. Catch you later, Killian.”
Killian didn’t respond. I nudged his arm, but he guided me out the door without saying goodbye.
“Let’s stay at your place tonight,” he said.
“But Connor—”
“He’s a big boy. He doesn’t need a babysitter.”
I climbed into the Jeep and fastened my seatbelt. “You need to talk to him,” I said, boldly venturing into dangerous territory. “He’s your brother. He was trying to defend you and—”
“I don’t need anyone to defend me.” Killian pulled away from the curb, his jaw clenched. I sighed loudly. Killian turned up the volume on the music to cut further conversation. I promptly turned it down. He glared at me. I ignored it.
“This is what you do,” I said. “You shut down and shut people out.”
“Did I shut you out?”
“You tried.” I sat in silence for a few seconds, trying to come up with the right words, but maybe there weren’t any. I just needed to share my opinion. “What happened to you growing up was horrible—”
“I thought we were done talking about that.”
“Just let me finish. It was horrible for you, but it must have been horrible for Connor too. He feels guilty about it. You never let him—”
“Fucking hell, Eden. I was trying to protect him. Am I supposed to feel bad about that?”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying. He loves you for protecting him, for always being there for him, but he wants to find a way to make it up to you.”
“You’ve known him…for what…a week?”
Eleven days, but whatever. “We talk on the nights you work.” Connor felt guilty about the drugs and all the times Killian had to clean up his mess, but now I knew it went deeper.
“You talk,” Killian said sarcastically. “Of course you do. He probably pours out all his thoughts and feelings. I bet you love that. Sorry to tell you, I’m not Connor. I don’t sit around analyzing every detail of my life and throwing myself a fucking pity party like he does.”
I took a deep breath to calm myself. “Connor doesn’t—”
“Fuck Connor. You said we were good. Why are we talking about him?”
“Because I don’t want you to shut him out. You need each other. He’s the only real family you have. I know you know that, so I don’t need to tell you…”
“But you’re telling me anyway.”
I shrugged. “Yeah.”
He parked down the street from the bar and cut the engine. “Anything else?”
“I think I covered it.”
Killian gripped his upper lip between his teeth. “I’ve been this way most of my life so don’t expect miracles overnight.”
“I won’t. But you’re getting better.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You think?”
“I don’t think it. I know it.”
Killian turned in his seat to look at me. “How do you always know the right things to say to me? And all the things you do…just for me…. Eden, what do I do for you?”
“You don’t know what you do for me?”
“Other than being a pain in the ass and making you cry…I’m drawing a blank.”
He was serious. I turned my body, resting my shoulder and my cheek against the seat. “You gave me back my art. The day I came in, asking for a job, I hadn’t painted or drawn anything in months. After the whole Luke thing happened, I just…I don’t know, I kind of gave up on it. Maybe I shut down because I didn’t want to feel anything. You asked if art was therapy, yet I hadn’t turned to my art. I only started painting again after the first night I worked with you. Because even then, you made me feel so much of everything. It’s hard to explain…”
“Try,” he urged, and I knew this was important to him, so I tried to put it into words.
“When I’m with you, even on bad days, even on perfectly ordinary days, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. That’s never happened to me before. I spent most of my life dreaming about places I’d rather be. But with you, I realized it has nothing to do with location…if I’m with you, it doesn’t matter where we are. When I’m with you, I see all the colors. And I’m not scared of the darkness, because there’s so much light inside you too. When you let me see you, really see you, there’s nothing in this world more beautiful than you, Killian.”
“It’s not beautiful inside me. It’s a fucked-up place to live.”
“I’d rather live there, with you, than anywhere else on the planet. I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”
“I wish every person on the planet could look at the world the way you do. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m going to try my best to make you happy.”
“You already do,” I said.
He leaned across the gearbox, wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and kissed me softly on the lips. “You’re beautiful, Sunshine.”