“How’d things go with Tom today?” Killian asks, breaking the silence.
I shrug, tracing a crack in the table with my fingernail. “I’m on thin ice. If I keep fucking up, Tom’ll fire me.”
“He’s not gonna fire you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do,” he says plainly. “Even if he tries, I’ll see to it you keep your job. You’re not going anywhere.”
I study him for a second, trying to figure out his angle.
Killian has sway with Tom, more than probably anyone else who walks through the Banshee’s doors. If he says I’m keeping my job, then I’m keeping my job.
…but why does he care?
Before I can ask, the waitress returns with two steaming plates of bacon and eggs, setting them down in front of us along with our glasses of OJ.
The smell hits me so powerfully, it’s almost enough to make me lightheaded from how good it is.
It’s another reminder how starved I am.
Killian picks up his fork and digs in without a word, shoveling eggs into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in days either. But when he notices I haven’t touched my plate, he pauses.
“What’re you waiting for?” he asks around a mouthful of food.
“I… I… can’t pay for this.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on me. Stuff your face.”
I hesitate a second longer, heart thudding faster as once again my cautious nature warns me about accepting things from men. Even men claiming to help me.
Then my stomach aches, and I remind myself I have no room to be choosy.
Ineedthis meal, or I’ll probably be passing out from starvation soon.
I pick up a strip of bacon and take a bite.
The crispy, salted meat hits my taste buds like the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. After how little I’ve been eating, it honestly tracks.
It’s so good, I quickly go from hesitant and cautious to losing control.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve stuffed the rest of the strip into my mouth and I’m reaching for the eggs, scooping them onto my fork and shoveling them in my mouth even faster than Killian.
I tear off a piece of the toast that’s come with the meal and cram that into my mouth too. I haven’t even swallowed the eggs yet, but it doesn’t matter. I’m eating like an animal with no table manners whatsoever, but I literally can’t stop myself.
Now that I’ve had a taste of real food, it’s as if my body has gone into survival mode, demanding I basically lick the plate clean.
“Damn girl,” Killian says, and I freeze mid-bite.
He’s eyeing me with a cocked brow, a torn piece of bacon between his fingers. He almost sounds… amused?
“People usually think I’m the barbarian,” he goes on. “Good to know I’ve got competition.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I force myself toslow down, setting my fork on the edge of my plate. “Oh… sorry. I didn’t realize I was so hungry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He goes back to his own food, his husky tone surprisingly gentle. “The food’s not going anywhere. If you’re ever hungry, just tell me. I’ll get you something to eat.”
I nod, but I can feel my walls going back up.
