Heather

 

Two weeks later, things at the compound had calmed down. Dad and Caleb were working a lot more because Liam wanted security beefed up after Niall’s murder, but otherwise, the rhythm of the compound had returned. I tried to listen in to conversations, keep an eye out for any sort of suspicious behavior, but nothing stood out.

 

By this point, everyone was accepting, without any doubt, that Killian orchestrated or physically committed the murder of his own brother, and despite my best efforts, I hadn’t uncovered a single other theory. Espionage has never been a trait I’d particularly prided myself on, so the lack of leads wasn’t particularly surprising. Still, I wished I had something to update Killian with.

 

Killian called once per week to check in, see if I needed anything or had discovered anything, and both times I told him I was fine and I didn’t have any news. They were short, awkward conversations. I began to doubt whether Killian was someone I could actually open up to. If we couldn’t be on the phone with one another for more than five minutes, how was I supposed to trust him with my deepest secrets?

 

Both times we spoke, Killian reminded me to let him know if I ever left the compound. He thought meeting up outside the fence would be safer for both of us, and I had to agree, though the idea of meeting with him away from my home turf made me a little nervous. Although Caleb had said he was out looking for me the night I met with Killian, part of me wondered whether he’d been trying to follow me. I didn’t have any proof of that, and there didn’t seem to be any good reason for him to follow me, but still, the thought persisted. Brotherly concern had never been his modus operandi.

 

Along with all of those thoughts, my first appointment with my OBGYN had arrived. My period never showed, and it was several weeks past due, and the nausea had kicked into high gear, so I felt pretty confident saying I was pregnant, but still, I would feel better once a medical professional approved it.

 

To get out of the compound, I told Dad I had a “lady issue,” and needed to see my gynecologist, and that had been enough to keep him from asking any more questions. Though, he did insist I have one of the other enforcers drive me to the appointment. It wasn’t enough to just have a chauffeur anymore. No, I needed a trained killer with me at all times, apparently.

 

“Doesn’t that seem like overkill?” I’d asked him, trying to keep my tone light.

 

He dropped his breakfast bowl in the dishwasher and turned to me, his arms folded over his chest. “Considering one of our neighbors has been murdered. No, I do not think sending you out with a bodyguard is overkill.”

 

I’d tried to talk him down, but it was useless. I prided myself on being able to manipulate my dad with a pouty lip and a few bats of my eyelashes, but on the issue of my safety, he wouldn’t budge. I tried to feel flattered that he cared so much, despite how annoying it was.

 

I called Killian the morning of the appointment.

 

“There’s no way we’ll be able to meet up. I’m going to have a bodyguard with me the entire time.”

 

He paused on the other end of the line, and I swear I could hear him thinking through the phone. “Is there any way you could get rid of him? Go into the office alone?”

 

“Maybe?” I said, more a question than an answer. “I might be able to convince him that he could wait in the car. But what then? Are you going to go to the appointment with me?”

 

Another pause. “I could.”

 

“Oh.”

 

It was bizarre feeling so uncomfortable with the only person who knew my biggest secret. Our relationship was a real-life oxymoron. He was my confidante, but also made me deeply uncomfortable. He was the supposed murderer of my baby daddy, but also the person who’d sworn to keep the baby and me safe. He was the brother of the man who’d impregnated me, but I also found myself missing the shape of his face… and imagining the way his dark hair curled around his ears.

 

I shook my head, clearing the thoughts away like my brain was an Etch-A-Sketch. “I suppose that would be okay.”

 

“Okay.” He sounded excited now. “I’ll get there early and make sure you walk in alone. If you do manage to ditch the guard, I’ll come in a back door and meet you in the waiting room.”

 

So, it was planned. Killian O’Donnell would be with me the first time I heard my baby’s heartbeat. Yet again, a turn of events I never could have predicted.

 

The enforcer Dad asked to drive me was young, perhaps even younger than I was, and I think his name was Mason, though I can’t be sure. We’d met before, once or twice, and he’d told me his name, but I’d forgotten it and now felt uncomfortable asking him to remind me of it. He didn’t talk as he drove me to the doctor’s office, and I didn’t mind. I doubted we had many shared interests and I was busy planning how to keep him from going inside with me.

 

When we pulled into the office, he shifted the car into park and reached for the keys in the ignition.

 

“Uhmm,” I said, stopping him mid-movement. “You can wait here in the car if you want.”

 

He turned to look at me in the back seat, but then blushed and stared out the passenger side window instead. “I think I was supposed to go inside with you.”

 

I laughed, hoping it sounded casual. “Honestly, you don’t want to go in there,” I said, my brain scrambling for a good reason. “It will be a room full of women with questions about their periods and… yeast infections.”

 

He grimaced, his face puckering into disgust, and I mentally patted myself on the back.

 

“Yeast infections?” he asked.

 

I nodded, an apologetic smile on my face. “It’s an overgrowth of bacteria in the vag—”

 

His eyes went wide, and he rotated in his seat, leaning back into the headrest. “I’m sure it will be fine if you go in alone. I’ll just wait for you here.”

 

“Okay,” I said, giving him a big smile. “Thanks so much for all of your help.”

 

As I walked inside, I remembered what Killian had said. He would be somewhere in the parking lot watching me, ensuring I went inside alone. Knowing he was watching me sent a flutter through my stomach. I held my chin high and tried to walk proud, though I couldn’t help but notice my hips began to sway with a little more gusto than usual.

 

I chastised myself. Brother of your baby daddy. Brother of your baby daddy. Brother of your baby daddy.

 

I stopped off at the restroom on my way in, ran my fingers through my tangled hair and reapplied lip gloss, telling myself it was only because my lips were dry, though I had opted for the glossy pink tube that smelled like guava rather than the clear moisturizing mint.

 

By the time I had freshened up and walked into the waiting room, Killian was already there.

 

He was wearing dark wash jeans, heavy brown boots, and a plain gray T-shirt. He looked like the bad boy in any romance movie ever, and he was sitting in a room full of pregnant women and teenage girls there for a birth control prescription.

 

I wanted to laugh, but he looked up at me and smiled, and the thought died in my brain. He’d shaved since I’d last seen him, but he still had a fine stubble coating his cheeks and jawline, and I wanted to reach out and touch it.

 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, patting the chair next to him.

 

“Fine,” I said, “but I need to check-in.”

 

The receptionist gave me some paperwork to fill out, but she kept glancing past me to look at Killian. Her gaze repeatedly slid from him to me and back again. I could feel her assessing me, probably trying to figure out what I did to be with a guy who looked like that. I reveled in her jealousy, even though it was based on a lie. Killian wasn’t mine, and the receptionist, whose name was Lena, probably had a better shot of hooking up with him than I did, considering I was pregnant with his brother’s baby.

 

Though, again, I didn’t tell Lena any of this. And when I went back to sit next to Killian to fill out my paperwork, I tried to look casual, as though Killian and I did everything together. As though we were a real couple. It was petty, but I wanted Lena to be jealous of me. I could use the confidence boost, no matter how made up it was.

 

We didn’t talk as I filled in my personal contact information and medical history. However, when I flipped the paper over, there was a section for the father’s medical history. I glanced at Killian, and he read the page.

 

“Oh.” He took the clipboard and pen from me, and immediately marked a few boxes. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious. Just some high blood pressure on our dad’s side and a couple cases of cancer on our mom’s. The baby will be fine.”

 

I liked that he seemed to know what I was thinking. For a minute, I could imagine us the way Lena probably did: a real couple here for their first OBGYN appointment. Two people in love about to be parents.

 

When the nurse called my name, Killian was just finishing the paperwork. We walked back together, and I felt like someone was going to call our bluff at any moment. They’d point out that Killian wasn’t the father, that I was alone, and then Lena, who would have a front row seat to the spectacle, would know my secret.

 

Then I remembered this wasn’t an interrogation. The doctor was there to check on the baby, not my personal life. I took a few steadying breaths.

 

The nurse weighed me, checked my blood pressure, and asked how I was feeling, though I couldn’t help but notice she didn’t seem to listen to the answer. Then she left, and Killian and I were alone.

 

I asked about the only thing we had in common. “So, do you have any theories about your brother?” I realized it was a morbid thing to bring up in a doctor’s office, especially a doctor’s office dedicated to bringing new life into the world, but I was nervous and needed something to distract me.

 

He shook his head. “No, but I wish I did. None of it makes sense. It still feels so impossible.”

 

“Agreed,” I said, rubbing my stomach.

 

Killian looked at my stomach and his fists balled up at his sides. “I swear, if I knew who did this, they’d be dead. So dead.”

 

“You don’t want to end up in prison,” I reminded him, feeling sorry that I’d brought the topic up.

 

“It would be worth it.”

 

I reached out and touched his shoulder. He didn’t move or respond to me, but I could sense him relaxing. “If you go to prison, I’ll be completely alone,” I reminded him.

 

He turned to me so quickly that I didn’t have time to move. His face felt too close to mine; I could see the pale freckles under his eyes, the way his eyelashes turned blonde and curled up at the ends. “You’re right. I have to do what’s best for you and the baby—what Niall would have wanted. I swear I won’t do anything to put you or the baby in harm’s way.”

 

The fluorescent lighting, rather than dampening his eyes, turned them a deeper shade of blue. I looked into them, and whether it was the pregnancy hormones or not, I felt like I could cry. He sounded so sincere and gentle, and I was suddenly so grateful for his presence in my life, for his concern for me. I wanted to lean forward and close the distance between us, but just as the thought crossed my mind, the door opened.

 

“Hello, Heather. I’m Dr. Reynolds.”

 

###

 

Killian

 

Back in my car, I couldn’t stop picturing the flickering heartbeat I saw on the ultrasound. The tiny little black and white stutter that meant the baby was fine. The doctor said Heather was almost exactly eight weeks along and told her to come back in four weeks.

 

Oddly enough, I was excited. For the first time since Niall died, I was looking forward to something. Niall was gone, but a part of him was growing inside of Heather, and that tiny little body was pumping O’Donnell blood.

 

I wondered what my role would be in the child’s life. I felt sure I’d be Uncle Killian. But, then again, if I couldn’t figure out who killed Niall and get back into the compound, I may not be anything to them. They may grow up hearing that their dad was killed by his traitorous brother. Or they may never mention me again—toss me from their memories the way they tossed me from the compound.

 

I couldn’t live with that. It would kill me to know Niall had a child out there who hated me or didn’t know about me, a child who maybe has his dark hair or dimple. Or maybe they will take after their mom and have bright red hair.

 

The thought of Heather immediately brought up too many emotions. Way more than I was ready to process. She was the mother of my brother’s child. That should mean something. There was an unspoken line there that shouldn’t be crossed.

 

Still, though, there was no denying she was beautiful. The untamable flames of her red hair, the emerald green of her eyes, the way her bottom lip was almost twice as full as the top one, creating the most beautiful asymmetry. And, oh, the way she walked.

 

A warmth spread down my midsection, and I tried to shut it down. It was not appropriate. If we dated or, more likely, slept together once, it could ruin our relationship. Then, I would have lost my connection to my niece or nephew forever because I couldn’t keep it in my pants.

 

I could feel the crotch of my jeans tightening, but I ignored it. I couldn’t cross that line. I couldn’t risk losing contact with the baby, no matter how beautiful Heather was.