Under the Texas Sky

CHAPTER 36

KIAN

Thirty-two minutes after Trent leaves, the door knob to the suite swivels, and I watch as Willow stumbles in first. Her poor hair looks like a rat’s nest. But by the way she’s loudly singing “Fergalicious” and carrying her shoes in her hand, it seems like she had a good time tonight. She throws herself on the couch beside me, wrapping her hand across my shoulders and leaning over to press a sloppy kiss to my cheek. I can smell the alcohol on her breath.

K laus finally walks in after her, looking a lot less drunk. His prim blond hair is perfectly styled, not a strand out of place. His nose is upturned as he stares at me and Willow on the couch. I’m in no mood for his holier-than-thou attitude.

God, sometimes I want to flash back in time and smack some sense into myself for ever letting myself get involved with him. I didn’t want him, really, I just didn’t want to be alone.

And when Trent came up here, even in my drunken state, I knew I was fucked. He’s the one I want. No matter how much I try to change how I look or how I act, I belong with him and he belongs with me. I don’t care about his little boyfriend, or the time we’ve been apart.

“Sit down,” I demand, glaring at Klaus.

His blue eyes narrow at me, but I know he’ll do it, even if he wants to act big and tough. He lets out an annoyed huff and rests his ass on the corner of the table in front of me.

“Give me your phone.”

He sputters and his face goes red in anger. “What the hell, Kian? I’m not giving you my phone.”

“Give me your phone, now, Klaus,” I say again, each syllable enunciated in my anger. I’m about to find out the truth.

The look on Trent’s face when he said fuck you will forever be ingrained in my brain. Mitch is sick? Is he okay now? How freaking long has Klaus known this and kept it from me? He knows Mitch was important to me, and Trent, too. After one too many shots of tequila at a gay club, I spilled my guts to him. Literally and figuratively, of course. I told him what I was running from, and I told him how Mitch was a father to me.

“I’m not giving you my phone.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I let him think I’m unaffected. I stand up, and Willow’s body falls to the space I was just occupying. I walk around the island to grab my cup of water, waiting for his suspicions to drop.

“Why do you need to see my phone, babe?” he asks. “There’s nothing on there. I just don’t like how you’re acting about it.”

I just don’t like how you’re acting, I mock him in my head as I sip my water. Plotting how exactly I’m going to snatch that phone from his grip.

“There’s something you haven’t been telling me, and I can’t trust you to give me the truth,” I say.

He rolls his eyes and I fight the urge to nibble on my bottom lip. I’m more confrontational now than I used to be, but it still makes my heart race. “Babe, no. You know I would never lie to you.”

“You’re right.” I put on my best pouty face as I stand in front of him, placing my body in between his legs.

He reaches up and holds my hips in a tight grip, pulling me closer to him. “What happened? Do you want to talk about it?”

The phone that was in his hand is now on the table right beside him. My fingers itch to grab it and run, but he’s fast. He would catch me before I made it to the bedroom door.

“I just had someone tell me that you were messaging them about collabing,” I say. Which is something I told him I wasn’t comfortable with him doing while we’re exclusively together. I think given my track record, it’s warranted.

When his face pales, I narrow my eyes. This piece of shit. There’s no way.

You know what? To hell with this, and him.

I step back and shove him sideways off the table. I snatch his phone, feeling the cool metal in the palm of my hand. I make a mad dash to the closest bedroom and lock the door behind me, squatting and resting my back against it.

There’s a commotion outside of the door when he comes over to bang on it.

“Kian, give me my phone.”

I use the facial recognition feature and unlock his phone. Because, lo and behold, he trusts me with access to his phone. Does he not see a problem with any of his actions, or did he think I was just too oblivious to pay attention?

“Give me my fucking phone, Kian. I’m not joking.”

I ignore him, opening up Instagram first. I scroll down and see the countless messages that say seen beside them, but I’ll come back to those. My main concern is if Trent was telling the truth. I know he is, of course, because Trent wouldn’t lie about that. He would never lie to me like that.

Scrolling through the messages isn’t helping, because while I’m not seeing Trent’s pop up, I’m seeing lots of messages confirming collabs. My anger climbs, my fingers shaking as I type Trent’s name into the search bar at the top.

There are a lot of Trents, but when I finally find the profile picture I’m looking for, I open the chat. Right there, in a gray text bubble with black writing against a white background, is Trent’s message to Klaus. The date in the center of the chat says AUG 22 AT 10:29 AM

Hi,

This message is a long shot but I needed to try.

You don’t know me and I don’t know you. But I am a friend of Kian’s. I didn’t have any luck when I reached out to him, but I thought I might have a chance if I told you, and I’m counting on you to relay the message.

Mitch, someone who cares for Kian very much, is sick. Colon cancer. He really wants to see, or at least hear, from Kian. The diagnosis has been very rough on him, and I’m trying to help him as best as I can.

Please, please, let Kian know. I know he doesn’t want to talk to me, but he can reach Mitch at the same number. It hasn’t changed. And neither has my number, if he asks.

Thank you so very much.

Trent.

My eyes track over every word, reading and rereading as if any time it will be different. Cancer. Cancer. Cancer.

Nicholas knew about this. Nicholas knew about this and purposefully hid it from me, after I confided in him that Mitch was a parent to me when I needed one the most.

And Trent reached out. He actually messaged my boyfriend, having to count on him to relay the message, because he knew how much I needed to know that.

I need to find Trent. I need to find him and let him tell me himself. I need to find him and let him tell me what happened that night before he came to Mitch’s.

There’s so much unsaid between us. I can find it in me to forgive him. I can, because we never know how much time we have left on this earth, and I can’t spend another minute without him. We’ve both fucked up, beyond repair. Maybe this is what we needed though, the distance to grow and now we’re two different people. The thought hurts, the ache in my chest burrowing down deep.

I need to know all the gory details about what happened that night, because the wound it caused is never going to heal without the closure of hearing the story from his mouth. Whatever the reason was, we can work through it. Together.

I need to find him, kiss him, tell him how much I love him, and tell him how fucking sorry I am for leaving him.