“I’m a call away,” Bast assures me before he flicks his eyes to Killian and dips his chin in a somewhat amicable way. The last time I checked he wanted to bury him, so I have no idea what’s happened since then.
I keep my back to Killian as I watch them all climb back into their vehicles, then they leave and silence falls like a weighted blanket on the street.
“It’s cold out here,” Killian rasps, “Come inside, I have something to show you.”
“Okay,” I breathe, slowly turning before I make my way toward him where he holds open the door for me. He smells like home, like leather and smoke and spice and the warmth of him presses against my skin as I step past him and into the building.
White pillar candles have been lit and placed on every available surface, the smell of lavender and cedar filling the air. Soft melodic music is playing from speakers I can’t see, and other than a table, there’s no other furniture and only the hidden pieces of art on the walls.
I startle when Killian closes the door, and I spin around to face him where he remains on the other side of the room.
“What are we doing here?” I finally ask him.
“I have made many, many mistakes in my life, Tiny Dancer,” He speaks softly but that doesn’t hide the gravel in his tone, “But none quite as bad as when I hurt you. I have made both right and wrong choices, stole and sacrificed many things and ultimately, nothing I have done before has killed me as much as the choice I made when I let you go.”
Chapter Fifty-seven
She looks so fucking pretty standing there in that silky black dress, her blonde hair styled in curls around her face, cheeks pinkened by the cold, and blue eyes wide and on me.
“I lied to myself,” I continue talking, “Told myself I could let you go, that I could let you live the life you deserve and find happiness with someone else, but I was wrong. I have loved you from the moment you came back from college, watched you when I knew I couldn’t have you and was haunted by you. I pushed and pushed, attempting to deny what I felt, but when it comes to you, Savannah, I’m a weak man.”
Her delicate throat works on a swallow.
“I should have known from the first painting that I was done for,” I start to move to the wall closest tome, where I have mounted the art that I have created of her. I rip the first sheet off, revealing the very first portrait I ever painted of her. She gasps, the breathy sound sending a chill over my skin. “Painting is an escape for me, art tells a story, and I had so many words I wanted to say but every time I tried to create something new, it was you that stepped off the canvas.”
I take the next sheet off, showing a painting of her in a studio, her body frozen against the canvas as she dances.
I keep going, revealing each painting, showing her that even if it isn’t me for her, she is it for me.
“I made the wrong choice with you, Savannah,” I take the final sheet off, “And I want to fix it.”
“You did all these?” She breathes.
“You are my story, Savannah. There is no one else but you.”
“Killian, I–” She sucks in a shaky breath, a single fat tear rolling down her cheek. I eat up the space between us, until I can capture that tear with the pad of my thumb.
“You hate me,” I whisper, “I understand. I hurt you and there’s nothing I can do to take that back but if I could, I would.”
“I don’t hate you,” She murmurs. “I wish I could.”
My thumb rolls across her cheek, “Then what do you want, Savannah?”
“I want you to want me as much as I want you, Killian. I want you to choose me.”
“I think we are way passed that, sweetheart,” I breathe and grasp her hand, moving it until her dainty palm rests over my frantically beating heart. “This is yours.”
“I miss you,” She says softly.
“I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I will earn your forgiveness.” I promise her.
“Killian,” She flicks her eyes between mine, “Kiss me.”
I don’t waste another second. I’ve gone too long without her, gone too long without her taste and her touch. Nothing makes sense without her, and I was a damn fool to think it did.
So, I let my mouth crash against hers, I steal her tears, tasting them on my tongue and vow to never, ever be the cause of her tears again.
She holds onto me as if her whole world will collapse beneath her if she doesn’t and opens when I test my tongue against the seam of her lips. I swallow down her whimpers, hold onto her like she is the lifeline. I breathe her in, consume her.
