“I know. I was stupid. I thought I was doing a good thing. It didn’t take long to realize I had fucked up.”
“I hated you for it, Cill,” Kat admits. She knows I can take it. That’s what I wanted from her all along. I don’t want her to treat me like I’m made of glass. “I hated that you did it and I watched you wither away.” Her eyes shine with tears again. “I still loved you, even when I hated you.”
“Well, I’m back, and I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Hellcat.”
“I love you too.”
She leans in and gives me a sweet, soft kiss. It reminds me of the way we used to kiss when we were teenagers and still figuring out how to do it right. Kat’s always done it right. She can be a hellion, but she always kissed like we were in love.
I guess we were.
I know we still are.
Kat looks into my eyes, and I get lost in the moment. It’s too damn much for the dinner table but I don’t care. The only way I was going to walk out of here is if I solved something. Now we’ve solved it. And if there’s still bullshit with Cavanaugh to be dealt with, at least we have an understanding of one another.
Her eyes go wide. “Oh, no. Reed—”
We both turn to where Reed was sitting and find the chair empty.
Kat
I’m exhausted when we get back to my house and the heartache is too much to deal with. The night has been far too long. “I just want to lie down,” I tell Cill as I lock up behind us.
The keys hit the table and then I check my phone again. No reply from Reed. He left without a word, but Cill’s car and keys were waiting for us in his place.
“On the couch, or in bed?”
“In bed.” I need to be completely horizontal or I won’t make it. Everything we talked about at the restaurant feels unfinished and painful. It’s like a chilled dread that simply won’t go away. Being on my feet one more second can’t happen, though.
We both take quick turns in the bathroom and when I come out Cill is standing at my bedroom door. “I’m not sleeping anywhere else tonight.”
That scares me, because it means he wants to keep talking too. And if we keep talking, I’m going to have to tell him all of the truth. There’s a part I left out. A part that still hurts to talk about.
* * *
Yeah, he yelled at me because I was the only person there.
Yeah, he was stupid and then angry and there was nothing we could do about it.
Yeah, we were all dealing with the loss of his dad.
Yeah, without his dad there, I wasn’t welcome at the club.
But there’s a piece he’s missing.
* * *
The bed welcomes me with its soft sheets and blankets I picked out. I burrow against the pillow while Cill climbs in next to me. He takes out his phone, and I see Reed’s name on the screen. Text messages. Cill glances over them and puts the phone facedown on the table.
I move in closer to his side and let him put his arm around me. He reaches over and turns off the light.
With the room dark and quiet, I thought I’d be able to give in to the weight of the day and pass out. Instead my thoughts race and apparently so are Cillian’s.
“Was it something specific I said that drove you away?”
Thump. My heart is heavy with every beat. “No … I just missed you and what we had before,” I begin, and I know it sounds awful as soon as the words are out of my mouth. “I didn’t mean that I was trying to replace you, or … or that you could be replaced. But I missed you. I was a wreck without you. I felt like there wasn’t a reason to keep going. I’d wake up in the morning and think about going back to sleep for the entire day.”
Cill rubs my back. “I thought about that too.”
I roll over under the sheets and scoot closer to him, resting my cheek against his chest. He’s quick to wrap an arm around me, holding me there. “There wasn’t really anyone else who understood. Reed was the only other person who missed you like I did. Well, almost as much. I couldn’t talk about it with anyone from Cavanaugh. I didn’t even want to be back there. I would have been totally alone without Lydia and Reed, and Lydia didn’t understand the way I was feeling.”
He doesn’t say anything. I know how this must sound. Me, complaining about how difficult things were for me when he was the one who truly suffered.
“I’m not comparing it,” I murmur. “I know it was hell for you. You never should have gone away.”