Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Sexy and sinful … but there’s a brokenness that’s undeniable. Even as he attempted to hide it when I opened the door, I felt it. In the very marrow of my bones, my body ached in mourning of what’s become of him.
I always knew him to be deadly and brooding even, but this is a different brokenness.
It takes everything in me not to gather him up myself and let out these sobs.
It’s been a year since I’ve seen him and that year must have been hell.
Regret pulls my gaze away as Reed mutters, “Come on. You’re drunk,” yet again.
Judging by Reed’s scowl, he’s on the verge of pulling Cill out of my house by the arm and back to his truck. I should let him do it. This whole thing—Cill staying with me after his release, no warning—it shouldn’t be happening. No one has the right to show up at my house and demand to stay with me. But I know I’ll never forgive myself if I let this happen.
Cill is in no state to go anywhere else. He’s drunk, and there’s a darkness in his eyes that scares me because I don’t think he’s able to hold back a single thing. It also begs me to comfort him.
My fingers itch at my side and as they do, Lydia tugs at my arm and silently mouths the word no as if she could read my mind.
I hate everything about this moment.
The tension between the four of us is so thick it makes my heart pound. Reed’s about to get physical with him. Drag him out of here, back to his truck.
“You shouldn’t even be driving,” I tell Reed without looking at him, my arms crossed as I sink back into the chair, Lydia standing as if she’s my warden by my side.
Reed mutters, “I’m not driving.”
“You drove here,” I bite back and peek up at him, but he’s still focused on Cill.
“I’ll walk home. I needed to drop him off. But we’ll both leave now.” Both leave. My heart stalls in protest and everything goes cold.
“No,” Cill states with finality.
Cill’s hardly spoken to me but I could easily hear the slight slur in his voice, and I can barely look him in the eye. I have no idea what Reed told him about me. I don’t know what Cill knows. Which only intensifies the betrayal that overwhelms me.
Two drunk men, four years of hell for all of us, and a stubborn man who doesn’t know what’s good for him anymore … shit.
This is going to turn into a fight. It’s an invitation for the cops to get nosy. Cill doesn’t need that. I don’t need that.
“Let him go and head home,” I tell Reed. “You can come back for your truck in the morning.”
“You sure about this, because—” He doesn’t get a chance to finish as Cill interrupts. “I’ll go upstairs,” he says, then clears his throat and the cords in his neck tighten as he swallows, “and you walk home. She’s right.”
Cill shakes off Reed’s arm and balances himself on the banister. My God, the pull I feel to him as he closes his eyes and steadies his breath.
Reed tosses Cill’s duffle bag toward the foot of the stairs, nodding. Lydia offers him a ride, which he rejects and then he and I share a look. One that brings that ache back tenfold.
“Come on,” I say and open the door for Reed. I shoo him away, but I stand on the porch and make sure he doesn’t drive. I don’t think Reed is as drunk as Cill, but he definitely shouldn’t be behind the wheel.
When he’s gone, I shut the door and lock it, then push the deadbolt shut and set the code too. I can feel Cill standing behind me. His very presence is throwing heat into the room.
So for a long moment, I keep my back to him, doing everything I can to not tremble and keep my composure.
Lydia shuffling around in the kitchen is the only thing I can hear. I wish the creak of the stairs would tell me Cillian’s doing what he said he would, but he’s not. When I turn, he’s right where he was before but fully turned around, his light blue gaze focused right on me. Those big, wounded puppy dog eyes don’t match the brutality of this man in the least.
A cabinet opens and then closes to the left of us.
Lydia’s lingering in the kitchen to give us space, I bet, and I’m glad she did. I can’t have this moment with Cill in front of anyone else. Not her. Not Reed.
“I think I might be drunk, Hellcat,” he rumbles and his lips kick up into an asymmetrical smile I’ve missed. All of that apprehension vanishes and it’s something else that forces me forward, one step at a time.