“I’m in love with your pillow,” he says conversationally. “Have I told you that?”
“No.” I fight to relax, but the tremors in my belly won’t die down. “Weirdo.”
He sighs again. “It’s just so fucking comfortable. Why is it so comfortable?”
“It’s a memory foam and gel pillow. I paid two hundred dollars for it. Don’t judge. My bed is my sanctuary.”
His eyes are dark stars in the night. “Why would I judge? I’m all for spending quality time in bed.” White teeth flash. “In fact, I’m going to order a case of these babies in the morning.”
I start to laugh, and then, to my horror, a sob bursts out.
“Hey,” he croons. “Hey, come here.”
Killian pulls me close, tucking me under his chin. I feel the shape of him against my belly, but for once I don’t think of sex. He’s like an anchor, a solid wall between me and emptiness. His arms are strong, and he holds me tight.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt the basic human contact of a hug, I come completely undone.
I can’t stop the great, ugly sobs that come out of me. “I’m just so…alone. They’re never coming back. And I know, I’m an adult, I shouldn’t be freaking out like this. Plenty of people don’t have parents. But they were the only ones who knew the real me. And now there’s no one else.”
“There is,” he whispers fiercely. “You have me. You have me, Liberty.”
But for how long? And in what way? I can’t ask. I’m too far gone. The stress of waking up in another dark storm, the loneliness, all the shit I try so hard to ignore crashes over me. I cry until I can’t cry any more. It’s messy and loud. And he holds me the whole time, stroking my back, murmuring nonsense words in my ear. He is warm and smooth and alive.
I fall asleep at some point, worn out and weak. When I wake up, it’s morning, and I’m alone. My throat is sore, and my eyes burn. The bedroom is hot, the air heavy and oppressive. I stumble to the bathroom and wince when I catch sight of my puffy eyes and blotchy skin.
A cool shower does a lot to revive me. I brush my teeth and put on a tank and shorts. My wet hair keeps me fairly comfortable, but it’s too hot. And too silent. I realize the power is out and sigh, shuffling my way to the kitchen.
I stop at the sight of Killian’s broad back as he stands before my counter. Shirtless and wearing army green shorts that cling to his trim hips and tight butt, he moves with grace. I take a moment to admire the way the muscles on his back bunch and flex beneath taut, tan skin, and how his long bare feet flex when he shifts his weight to grab a couple of forks. Weird that I notice his feet, but seeing them seems intimate somehow.
He must feel my stare because he turns and gives me a soft look. “Hey. Power is out. I made fruit salad—if you can call chopped peaches, oranges, and one banana fruit salad—because that’s all there was.”
He’s adorable. Still, I hover by the kitchen entrance. I think of how I lost my shit last night. No one has seen me that way since I was a kid. Not even my parents. Maybe he gets my embarrassment, because he sets down a big bowl of roughly chopped fruit and holds out a fork.
“Today, we shall eat from the trough. Later we shall play Fun with Water Hoses.” His gives me a cheeky smile. “You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to payback.”
“Yeah, I bet.” I take a bite of sun-ripe peach. “Never mind the fact that I was performing a community service.”
“Don’t worry, Elly May. I’ll be kind. Ish.”
We grin at each other like idiots, and then his phone rings, the muffled sound coming from his pocket. His smile fades as he reaches down to turn it off.
“You’re not even going to look and see who it is?” I ask.
He shrugs and stabs a peach chunk with his fork. “Don’t need to. That’s my manager’s ringtone, Scottie.
“And you don’t want to talk to him?”
“Not particularly.” He spears another piece of fruit like he’s hunting game. “He just wants to talk business and…” Killian gives me a large, kind of fake smile. Anger and irritation flicker in his eyes. “I’m on vacation.”
“Well, all right then.” I try for teasing, but my mouth is stiff.
A lead weight settles in my gut. His manager wants him to go back. That much is clear. No matter how much Killian wants to enjoy his vacation, real life is still waiting for him. And eventually, I’m going to lose him to it.
“Thanks, by the way,” I rasp, hating the soreness in my throat.