“Thank you,” I give him a smile and rest my broken arm across my abdomen, wiggling my fingers the best I can since two of them are also broken on that side. The pain meds take away the edge but fuck, it still hurts.
He has been the last person I expect to come see me, we’ve never beenclose,but he’s been here every day. He doesn’t say much, just sits there with me but it’s been nice. Familiar and comforting in a way I can’t explain.
With his own coffee, he folds himself into the chair beside the bed, eyes toward the window as rain falls and runs rivers over the glass.
“It looks cold,” I mumble, watching the rain with him, “Is it cold?”
He grunts his answer which I take as a yes.
I watch the side of his face, at the lines around his eyes and the stern crease between his brows from years of frowning. I want to trace those features with my finger, smooth out those lines to see if I can soften him some. I don’t remember the last time I touched Killian, was it the hug several months back after I got back from tour? Was there a brush of his hand on mine sometime in the past few months that I no longer remember?
How can you crave something you’ve never had?
Maybe it’s the forbidden, the knowledge that I can never get close to him because of who he is.
“Stop looking at me like that, Savannah,” He grumbles, the noise coming from low in his throat.
I flick my eyes away, “I wasn’t.”
A low chuckle rasps from him, “You’ve never been a good liar.”
My cheeks burn, “Yeah, well, I was just trying to remember stuff.”
His throat works on a swallow, “I have nothing to tell you.”
There’s something niggling at a part of my brain, like an animal scratching at the bars of its cage, trying to get free. It’s there but there’s no way out, no way tofree itself and I can’t grasp it. There’s something hidden; I don’t know how I know that, but I do know it.
“Are you sure?” I ask softly.
Brown eyes meet mine and for a fleeting second they’re full of pain, the type of devastation that can flay someone alive but the moment I see it, it’s gone and the hard, stone wall falls back into place.
“Positive,” His hands curl around the cup as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, hanging his head.
“You look tired, Killian,” I whisper, my heart thumping. “You don’t have to keep turning up here, I know you’re only doing it for Bast.”
His shoulders shake with silent laughter, “You have no idea, Tiny Dancer.”
My skin prickles with awareness, the way he said those last two words like a jolt of electricity straight through my veins.
“What was that?” I sit up, gritting my teeth against the pain, “Why did you say that?”
“It was nothing,” He stands abruptly, “See you later.”
“Wait, you’re leaving?”
“Your brother will be here soon.” He doesn’t look back to me as he crosses over to the door, “I’m glad you’re awake, Savannah.”
And then he leaves, and the silence feels deafening.
Chapter Thirty-seven
I’m playing with fire.
Tempting the flame to burn us both alive.
But I can’t fucking stop, I wish I could but I can’t. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I distract myself, I end up back at that hospital, in that chair beside her bed. We don’t talk, we just sit there in silence, staring out the window. She has no idea why but the way she looks at me only reminds me of what we had. It’s not the same though, not anymore. She doesn’t remember the long nights wrapped up in one another, doesn’t recall the three words she told me or the way she kissed me.
I almost wish I could forget too. It would hurt less.
