I clear my throat. “Can we talk a sec? It’s about Adrian.”
He glances at Noah, then at me, reading our faces in that unnerving way of his, then nods and steps away from the grill. “Rome, keep an eye on this for me,” he says, then he gestures for us to walk. “What happened?”
We walk as I go through what Noah just told me—Adrian’s apologies, the guilt, and how he said it was his fault that Noah got hurt. Killian’s expression grows tense with every word, a frown settling in.
Killian is quiet for a long moment, then he pulls out his phone and scrolls fast, thumb moving so quickly he nearly misses the call button. He turns away, and I hear his voice drop low. “Yeah. I need you to check on something for me. No, not that. Adrian Hart. Yes, now.” There’s a beat, then, “Don’t bullshit me. Call me back.”
He hangs up, and his face is pinched, irritation warring with something more like worry. For Killian, that’s saying a lot. He barely glances at us before the phone buzzes again. The call is short this time, his eyes narrowing further as he listens.
Noah chews his lip, twisting his hands together. “I don’t like this,” he whispers.
“I know, me neither.”
Finally, Killian ends the call and turns back to us, sliding his phone into his pocket. He takes a breath, looks from me to Noah, then says, “Did either of you know that Lionel is engaged again?”
Noah stares, mouth half-open. “What? No. He—He never said anything.”
Killian’s gaze is unblinking when he nods. “He got engaged quietly a week before you arrived at Blackthorne. No announcements, nothing public. But it’s legit. There’s a prenup already drafted.” He studies Noah for a long, uncomfortable beat. “He’s engaged to Adrian’s mother.”
It hits like a punch. Noah goes pale, then flushes, confusion and disbelief warring across his face. “Adrian’s… what? I—He never told me. He never told me anything.”
Killian shrugs, but the look in his eyes is sympathetic. “Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he wasn’t allowed. Maybe he thought you’dfind out another way, or maybe he just didn’t want to be the messenger. Either way, it’s out now.”
I stare at Killian, mind racing to fit the pieces together. “So… what? You think Adrian’s been in touch with Lionel? That he’s been—”
“I think there’s more going on than we realized,” Killian interjects, holding up a hand. “If Adrian’s mom is marrying Lionel, that puts him in a fucked-up position. We won’t know until we talk to Adrian directly.”
Noah covers his face, fingers digging into his scalp. “Why does it always have to be like this? I finally let myself be happy for two seconds, and my dad’s still in the background, pulling strings.”
I pull him closer, hating the way his voice cracks. “Adrian’s been dealing with this on his own, too. If he was forced into it, that explains the guilt. But I know he never wanted to hurt you, Blue. Adrian isn’t like that.”
Killian runs a hand through his hair, exasperation written all over his face. “I’ll make sure Adrian knows he’s not in trouble, and I’ll talk to his mom if I have to, see how far Lionel’s gotten his claws into her. But you need to know, this isn’t on you, Noah. This is your dad trying to play god with everyone’s lives.”
Noah lets out a shuddery breath, tears shining in his eyes, but he pulls himself together. “What do I do? What do I say to Adrian if I see him again? If he—if Adrian was helping him—”
“We don’t know that,” Killian says, cutting him off gently. “And until we do—until we hear the truth from Adrian’s mouth—you’re not going to drive yourself mad thinking worst-case. You’ve got enough scars, Adams. Mentally and otherwise.”
I watch Noah nod slowly, still processing, still trying to make sense of something that feels like betrayal wrapped in confusion. Killian notices too and places a hand on Noah’s shoulder, lowering his voice.
“You’re not weak for needing time,” he tells him. “You’re not dramatic for feeling gutted by this. But you’re not alone anymore, either. You’ve got Damien. You’ve got me. And you’ve got a house full of dumbasses who’d go full feral if anyone tried to hurt you again.”
That earns a watery laugh from Noah, just a breath of it, but it’s something. “You’re really bad at comforting people, you know that?”
Killian raises a brow. “I’m not here to comfort you. I’m here to make sure you stay alive long enough for someone else to do it properly.” He turns to me. “That’s you, by the way.”
I offer a two-finger salute. “Understood, Captain.”
“Good,” Killian grins, sliding his usual Golden Boy mask on again. “Now go. Be normal college kids for a minute, for fuck’s sake. That’s what you’re supposed to be doing.” Then he’s gone, blending back into the madness like he was never even serious to begin with, barking at Roman and Thorn to stop arguing before one of them ends up in the pool.
Noah lets his head fall against my shoulder, eyes closed, breath warming the crook of my neck. “He’s scary,” he mumbles.
“Yeah,” I say with a chuckle. “But I think you’ve grown on him. He probably sees you as a little brother now. Killian’s scary when he goes into protector mode.”
He smiles at that—soft, real, the kind of smile I haven’t seen since yesterday, and it loosens something in my chest. We walk back to where we were sitting, and I tuck him into my lap again, stroking my hand along the dip of his waist.
Across the yard, someone throws a ball too hard and knocks a bowl of chips off the table. Thorn starts yelling. Nate screams something about sunscreen. Killian threatens bodily harm if the grill gets knocked over. Everything is loud and stupid and messy again.
But for once, it feels like the right kind of chaos. Not the kind that breaks you—just the kind you can live inside.
