He releases a sigh as he runs a hand back through his long, blond hair. “Well, you didn’t seem good at the festival yesterday. And I saw that look that just crossed over your eyes as you looked at Willow.”
“What look?”
“The same one you’ve been giving her and me for months, like you somehow feel that everything that happened was your fault.”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t think that.”
But I’m not about to tell Killian that my thoughts have been haunted by what having that man’s blood running through my veins really means.
Killian’s jaw hardens, and he watches me for a moment before he sighs. “You didn’t even know the man. The fact that you are biologically related to him in no way makes you responsible for what he did to her.”
I shove up behind my desk. “You think I don’t know that?”
He throws his hands out. “I don’t know what you know, Liam, because you won’t talk to me! You won’t talk to Connor, you won’t talk to Willow, you’re just completely shut off from the world, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it!”
Fucking hell.
I knew this confrontation was coming.
It’s been building for months.
As they’ve settled into their lives together, mine has grown more and more out of control, twisting into darker and darker places as I think about all of the horrible things that man did to my mother, to Willow, and to who knows who else over the years.
It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know him, that I was raised by Constance McBride, the most wonderful woman on the planet, or that Killian and Connor are my brothers in every way but blood.
I can’t help the way I feel inside, like knowing who I am and where I came from is some sort of rot that’s working its way through every organ of my body and eating me alive from the inside out.
“I’m not talking to you about this, Kill.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “No shit!”
“No”—I shake my head—“I mean ever. It’s none of your business.”
“It’s not?” His brows fly up. “Because I’m pretty sure I promised Mom that I’d take care of you when she was on her fucking death bed. This is part of taking care of you.”
Putting me under the fucking inquisition again.
“Well, I don’t want your help, and I don’t need it.”
Even as I say the words, they feel wrong.
We’ve always been close. We’ve always been there for each other and talked through all the tough moments in life. I’ve always been the one pushing everyone else to say the hard things they don’t want to and to face those demons they’re running from. But when it’s my own, I can’t seem to do it.
“Yeah.” Killian releases an incredulous snort. “Seems like you’re handling it pretty well yourself.”
The sarcasm drips from his words, and it’s enough to make me scoop up Gizmo and stalk toward the door.
His gaze follows me. “Where are you going?”
“Anywhere but here. You handle the fucking shipment.”
LUCKY
I can see it coming from a mile away…
Like a train barreling down the track at you and being unable to leap out of the way before it crashes into you full force…
It’s going down.
