Saoirse
He’s gotten better about hiding his feelings.
Or maybe he just never had a reason to before.
It’s not like I have a stockpile of memories of Cillian to file through. It’s not like I have a legion of shared moments to dissect and study.
One night.
That’s all I have.
And for some reason, I’m desperate to protect it.
Even from him.
Maybe even especially from him.
But fuck, does he have to look so goddamn beautiful right now?
All I want to do right now is run my fingers through those beautiful golden locks. I used to imagine a little child with hair like that. A child with the same carefree smile as Cillian’s.
And a little bit of me in him or her, too. A reddish tinge to the hair, a wry twist in the grin.
A child of ours.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the old fantasy.
I stopped dreaming about children a long time ago. Around the same time I secretly got on birth control so that I’d never have to carry a baby with the same DNA as Tristan.
But when I did dream, there was only ever one man who I could see fathering my children.
And that’s exactly the reason I need to stay away from Cillian O’Sullivan.
Because no matter which way I come at it, there’s no realistic route in which we can be together.
In whatever future I see, Tristan’s shadow looms over us. The monster in my nightmares.
Even when I’m fully fucking awake.
“Where’d you go?” Cillian’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “It’s been a long couple of days.”
“It’s been a long thirteen years,” he counters.
I nod. “Truer words have never been spoken.”
“You still look cold,” Cillian points out, moving a little closer to me.
I cringe away instinctively.
If he touches me… If I let him wind his way around my heart again…
How am I ever gonna survive when he leaves?
And mark my words—he will leave.
I may not keep up with every move the Kinahans make. But I know enough to realize that shit is going to hit the fan soon.