Chapter Fourteen
Brynn
When we get to his place this time, it feels a lot different than it did last night.
For one thing, I have a suitcase, my schoolbag, a pink quilted travel bag full of stuff, and my exercise mat with me. Killian is carrying all of it while I bring my purse and my cat.
“I feel bad making you carry everything.”
“You’ve got the thing that scratches. I’m good,” he assures me.
I bend to kiss the top of Toast’s head. They haven’t gotten off to a great start. “She didn’t understand why you were touching me. She’s a bit possessive.”
He smirks as he puts my bags down on the floor next to his couch. “Yeah, well, so am I, so she’s gonna have to cool it.”
I crack a smile, then bend to let Toast down so she can explore her new temporary home. “Thank you again for letting us stay here. This was so nice of you.”
Killian turns and saunters toward me, his gaze making me feel warm all over. “What can I say? I’m a nice guy.”
I smile as he encircles my waist and pulls me close, my arms naturally winding around his neck. “That’s not what you were saying last night.”
He leans in to kiss my neck and sends shivers dancing down my spine. “Maybe not, but I think I was pretty nice to you,” he murmurs.
My cheeks warm at the memory. “I can’t disagree.”
Pulling back, he looks at me. “Just so we’re clear, that sneaking out on me bullshit? Can’t happen again. Especially now, with this rogue fuck potentially lurking in the shadows.”
I nod my understanding. “I won’t sneak out again. I got in my head a little last night, and ironically, I was worried about being late to work since you didn’t set an alarm for me. Speaking of,” I pull back, “is there a charge cord for this burner Rip—er, Hex left me? Because I don’t think the battery will last long tomorrow if I don’t charge it tonight.”
He lets go of me and looks at the phone as I draw it out of my purse. “Yeah. I have one just like it. I can use that charger.”
“Okay,” I say softly.
“You don’t work again this week, right?”
I shake my head. “Just on Sundays, though I do usually volunteer at this homeless shelter for a few hours on Friday nights.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not doing that this week. No unnecessary outings alone, and I’m not spending my Friday night at a fucking shelter of any kind.”
I crack a smile. I didn’t take him as the philanthropic sort, so I’m not surprised. “That’s fine. I can let them know I won’t be able to work my shift this week. They should have plenty of time to find someone else to cover it.”
He heads for his bedroom—presumably to grab that charger—so I grab the big pink travel bag off the floor and bring it to the kitchen so I can unpack some of the things I brought. It feels strange to make myself at home in a guy’s apartment, but I wanted to bring some of my own stuff so as not to put him all the way out.
I take out my open box of granola bars and a fresh box of cereal. I grab the oatmeal and my half-empty carton of strawberries, then I line up Toast’s tins of cat food so I can ask Killian where I should put them when he comes back.
Since I’m at the counter, I can’t help noticing the food he left out. Raw chicken breast still in the carton, two potatoes, some broccoli. He was clearly in the middle of preparing dinner when Hex called him or showed up here, whatever happened.
Killian comes back with the charger. He comes to the kitchen and plugs my phone in, then puts it down on the counter. “Since it’s a burner, I’m guessing you didn’t download anything you’re attached to?”
I shake my head. “I just used it to text you and call Hex.”
“Well, we’re in the same apartment and you certainly don’t need to be talking to him, so we’ll let this charge over here for the night.”
I crack a smile, putting my strawberries in the fridge and then returning to the counter. “Sounds good to me.”
“Are you still hungry?”
I nod, my gaze drifting to the food on the counter. “Do you think this is still good? I should have probably told you I eat mostly a vegetarian diet. I’ll usually eat meat once a week, but… I also feel terrible at the idea of the chicken dying so we can eat it, and then it just gets thrown in the trash. The meat is already here, so I’d rather we eat it.”
He glances at the assorted ingredients. “Yeah, it hasn’t been out that long. I’m sure it’s still okay.”
“Since it’s been sitting out, can you rinse it off before we cook it? I hate handling meat.”
He smirks, and belatedly I hear it.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” I mutter.
“Uh-huh.” He turns the sink on and washes his hands, then he grabs the raw meat, unbothered by its grossness.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask, eager to help.
“I got dinner. You finish unpacking.”
“Are you sure?”
He nods, reaching for the cutting board and the head of broccoli he must have been handling before he dropped it and ran to save me—again.
“I don’t usually get in this much trouble,” I tell him, feeling the need to explain myself.
He glances over at me before returning his attention to the veggies. “No? You’ve certainly stepped in your fair share of it these past couple of days.”
“I know. It’s uncharacteristic of me, truly. I lead a quiet life. I participate in maybe two virgin sacrifices a year—three max.”
He cracks a smile. “Don’t want to overdo it.”
“You can only escape so many virgin sacrifices and remain a virgin.”
“What’s up with that, anyway?” he asks. “You super religious or something?”
I shake my head, looking for some place to put the cat food. “No, just romantic, I guess. I know plenty of people do casual hookups and seem to enjoy it, but I dated someone I loved and didn’t even sleep with him, so I guess… I just held onto it for so long, it felt like it needed to be something truly special to give it up. You know?”
Nodding faintly, he says, “I guess I can see that. Why didn’t you sleep with him?”
“Hm?”
“The guy you loved.”
“Oh. Well, it was high school, and he was stupid.”
Killian laughs, taken off guard by my honesty. “That checks out.”
I crack a smile. It’s nice being able to smile over something that had me gutted as recently as last year. “At first, I didn’t want to move too fast. I wanted to wait until I was ready. But I guess I made him wait too long, and he… did something stupid.”
“Something or someone?” he asks knowingly.
I sigh. “There was this wretched girl. I don’t want to talk about it because I hated her independent of her hooking up with my boyfriend, but when mentioning that both things happened, people jump to the conclusion that I blamed her for all of it. I didn’t, he was an even bigger asshole in my eyes because he knew how much I disliked her, but he was drunk at a party, and we got into a fight. It was idiotic. The entire relationship was just… a major lapse in judgment. He treated me like shit, he had no self-control. It was a bad relationship, but it was the first time I’d ever fallen in love, and like an idiot, I let that tie me to him for longer than I should have. But once he hooked up with the other girl, I couldn’t bring myself to sleep with him. I should have known then it was too late, the relationship was over, but I hung on and let him keep stringing me along. I guess I kept hoping he would… find a way to make me get over it.” I shake my head. “I don’t know how to explain it, but obviously, that didn’t happen. He wasn’t willing to put effort into our relationship prior to cheating on me; what made me think he would after?”
Killian shrugs. “He might have. Some guys take what they have for granted, and it takes a wake-up call to snap them out of it.”
“Maybe. But I want a guy with enough awareness and intelligence to know what he has the moment he catches me. It shouldn’t take fucking me over for him to see my value. And if it does, honestly, it’s too late. I don’t want him anymore, so… relationship over.”
“That’s fair. He made his bed.”
I nod, searching the cabinets for cereal so I can add mine to it. “But since I hung out in that doomed relationship for the rest of my high school career, refusing to end it and maybe find someone better, but also refusing to sleep with him…”
“You entered college a virgin.”
“Yep.”
“You’re a sophomore, though, right?”
“Yeah, but I was pretty closed off to dating last year. Freshly broken heart and all that. I take a while to mend.”
“Especially when you don’t heed conventional advice.”
“Which is?”
He sounds faintly amused. “Fastest way to get over one guy is to get under a different one.”
“Oh.” My cheeks warm a bit. “Yeah, obviously I didn’t take that advice. What about you?” I ask, glancing back at him. “Have you ever been in love before?”
“Nah. It’s not really for me.”
My eyebrows rise. “Love?” I ask, laughing a little without meaning to. “Love is for everybody. It’s part of the human experience.”
His lips tug up wryly. “So is dying, and I’m not in a hurry to do that anytime soon.”
“Wow. Comparing falling in love to death. Child of divorce?” I guess.
“Yep.”
I nod knowingly. “That can put a bad taste in your mouth. I am too, but my parents split when I was young and my dad moved away, so I didn’t have warring parents or anything like that.”
“My mom—who is a legend, to be fair—found out my dad was fucking around with a co-worker, so she quietly started preparing for the divorce and fucking his boss. The guy couldn’t help falling for her, so when she surprised my dad with divorce papers, she already had herself a nice place to land. She told Dad he could keep the house because she didn’t need it anymore. We moved into her new boyfriend’s big-ass mansion before the ink was even dry on the divorce papers.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“That is legend behavior.”
He nods. “My dad didn’t appreciate being one-upped by the woman he thought he was embarrassing. You should’ve been there the first year they had a company picnic. Dad brought his downgrade and thought Mom would be all put out, but Mom was the life of the party, ignoring him and charming everyone else, all while being extra affectionate with her new man—his boss—while my dad had to watch. He got real bitter about it.”
I shake my head. “Small men never enjoy sleeping in the shitty beds they make for themselves, do they?”
“He’d call her a whore and all this stuff like he wasn’t the one to break his vows in the first place and put her in the position to have to find someone new.” He glances back at me. “My dad’s a dick.”
“He sounds like one,” I say unapologetically. “Do you guys get along now, or…?”
“I see him every now and then, but we’re not close. I don’t respect him.”
I don’t see why he should, but it’s not my place, so I don’t say that. “What about his boss? Did your mom end up staying with him?”
“Oh yeah, he wasn’t a dumbass like my dad. He didn’t need to fuck it all up to see what a catch she was. She married him and had a kid with him. Another son. He’s 14 now.”
I nod, but my thoughts drift to my own younger half-sibling. “Are you guys close?”
He sets the chopped broccoli aside and reaches down for a saucepan. “It’s complicated. Chris—that’s my mom’s husband—and I don’t get along that well. We never really did, but it wasn’t as much a problem when I was younger. Mostly because… you know, who gives a fuck what the kid thinks?”
“Yeah,” I murmur thoughtfully.
“But as I got older, we started to butt heads more and more. He’s used to bossing people around and lording over people, and I can’t fucking stand being looked down at like that. I think some part of him didn’t like me just because I was my dad’s son, too. We share the same opinion of the guy, ironically, but since it’s his wife’s ex, I guess it’s different for him.” He shrugs. “He’s a good fit for my mom. Her personality suits his just fine. Mine doesn’t. We butt heads anytime we get in a room together. Their son is more of a yes-man, so they get along great, but… I think in some ways, he and I are too much alike to like each other.”
“How does your mom cope with it? I mean, does it bother her that there’s a rift, or…?”
“It does, but there’s only so much she can do. Chris has a strong personality. I think that’s the polite way of saying he’s a domineering asshole, right?” he asks, glancing at me over his shoulder with a mischievous twinkle in his eye that lightens my stomach.
I smile, feeling warmth rush to my cheeks as I look down. “I think so.”
He cracks a smile at my shyness. “But yeah, he holds the purse strings, you know? She’s smart enough that she could have made her own way in the world, she could have become a powerhouse in her own right, but she made the mistake of tying her fate to my dad’s instead. But he didn’t have the promise she had, so he held her down for a long time. Then, even when she got away from him, she had a kid in tow. She needed to figure out a new life for us quick, so she took the nearest path to stability instead of forging her own way. He doesn’t hold it over her head or anything, but we all know he’s the one with money and power; she only has it because she’s with him. Personally, I don’t want to rely on anyone’s goodwill for my happiness and security. I’d rather build something for myself than rely on handouts from someone who will always want me to dance for my dinner.”
“I totally get that.”
“I never wanted to take a dime from him, but since my biological dad’s a loser and my mom had the hookup, she begged me to let Chris pay for my education.”
I guess that explains the fancy apartment and the nice car. Hell, even tuition at Calhoun. This is an expensive school. I’d never be able to attend if my parental income didn’t fall well below the income threshold to qualify for financial aid. Between that and my grades, I was able to qualify for close to a free ride.
Finally, being poor paid off.
I crack a smile at my own dark humor, then I look back at Killian. “I’m glad you have a mom who cares. Some women in her situation wouldn’t.” Stacking the last of Toast’s cat food in a vacant spot in a lower cabinet, I ask, “Were you considering other Ivy League schools? I applied to all the ones in New England, but this was my first choice.”
He hesitates, then looks over at me. “I was pretty set on this one.”
I nod my agreement. “I love Calhoun’s biology program. It’s hard, but it’s worth it. They offer a broad range of study with opportunities to overlap wherever it makes sense—and even if they don’t already think it makes sense, if you can convince your advisor it makes sense, you can do it, which gives you a lot more freedom to pick your own path. The advisors work with you to make sure you’re getting a well-rounded education, which was really important to me since I have a wide range of interests and I believe a wide range of education is what helps you think outside the box. The school’s obviously really well-funded, so you can get invited on research trips and get to travel and study somewhere you’d never get to otherwise—and it’s free. It’s built into the price of admission, which, for those of us who can only be here because of scholarships, is really awesome. They have free seminars every week from visiting speakers, and they’re all brilliant. It just makes my brain happy to go here.”
“You like traveling?”
“I love traveling… hypothetically, because traveling here for school is honestly the most I’ve traveled. But I’m an optimist so I got my passport just in case I get picked for any of the research opportunities and have to travel abroad. I want to go to so many places and take so many classes. I’m just sad I won’t have enough time to take advantage of everything this university has to offer, honestly. There’s this synthetic biology research opportunity in January that I’m dying to get into. Obviously, the demand is high because it’s really exciting so I probably won’t make the cut, but I would get hands-on experience with genetic engineering. How crazy would that be?”
He smirks, and I can feel him wanting to call me a nerd. “So crazy,” he mocks lightly.
I roll my eyes. “It would be. I wouldn’t travel for that one, it’s here in Boston, but there’s a summer session in Paris I’m hoping to do next year. Partially for the class, but mostly just to see Paris.”
“Yeah, I can see why this place would have so much to offer someone like you. Just don’t forget to make friends. In my opinion, the appeal of going to a place like this isn’t so much the coursework, but the people you meet. The networking.”
I put away the last box on the counter and walk over to the island counter where he’s working. “Is that why you wanted to go here? The networking opportunities.”
He nods slowly, seeming to consider something. It doesn’t take him long to make up his mind. “Chris was a Blue Blood,” he states, looking over at me.
My eyebrows rise because I thought that was something he didn’t want to talk directly about. “Oh.”
“He wasn’t born rich, either. Most of the Blue Bloods have family money, but…” He smiles faintly. “Maybe it’s a stupid comparison, but it’s like your scholarship program. Because there’s plenty of money between them all, sometimes they see someone with promise who doesn’t have the money and connections by virtue of birth, and they can afford to bring him into the fold. To give him the opportunity to be one of them.”
I watch him. “That’s not a stupid comparison at all. I’d say it’s an apt one. I’m assuming they have access to a powerful network? Probably some kind of perks for being a member?”
“An immensely powerful network. Lots of perks,” he says dryly. “Lots of responsibilities, too, especially for those ‘scholarship’ students. But they’re not assholes about it. Once you’re in, that’s it. You’re in. You’re one of them. They’ll find you the opportunities you need to get on their level, and then you’re all equals. It’s mutually advantageous because you’ll all build your own thing, sure, but at the end of the day, you’re brothers. You’ll get whatever support you need when you need it, so you invest in each other.”
“Sounds nice,” I say, smiling faintly. “Who wouldn’t want a network of powerful friends who want to see you succeed the same way they do?”
“Exactly. And that’s why I wanted to study at Calhoun. I knew about the Blue Bloods. I wanted to be one.”
And now he is.
He doesn’t say that part, but it’s easy enough to piece together.
One thing strikes me, though. The mask he wore last night, with blue blood dripping down to the mouth. “The costume you wore to the Rho Kappa party… Did you dress up as a blue blood right in front of Kyle’s face?”
He’s so casually arrogant, he can’t help smirking as he washes his hands. “I did. I knew he wasn’t smart enough to interpret the taunt, so I wasn’t worried.”
“Last night you seemed to imply there was a… that Blue Bloods never admit to being Blue Bloods or something like that. But your stepdad told you?”
And now you’re kind of telling me?
He finishes drying his hands and drops the towel on the counter, then he turns to face me. “He didn’t tell me. He told my mom, and she told me. Secrets can kill marriages, so you’re allowed to tell your wife you’re a Blue Blood if you want to. It’s entirely at your discretion, and you’re advised not to if she’s petty or too chatty, because if she pisses off the wrong people with her loose lips, there will be a bad outcome. Knowing can be dangerous, especially after graduation. Then it’s not just your brothers that you know well and trust individually. Then there’s a much larger network of Blue Bloods to consider, all with varying degrees of ruthlessness and a lot more to lose. Around campus, people like to guess who belongs to what society and whisper rumors about the darker shit they get up to, but once you get out into the real world, you don’t want outsiders to know about the source of your power and connections. And you don’t get to be a Blue Blood by being a boy scout, so these are men who would kill to protect their secrets. But they’ll kill to protect yours, too, so… you just have to weigh the risks and advantages like with anything else.”
“So they’re allowed to tell their wives, but then if there’s a messy divorce or something and she decides to air out his dirty laundry…”
“Airing out the wrong piece will get her killed. Yeah. Some guys don’t tell their wives. They don’t trust them enough, or they don’t want to give them that responsibility—or they know they’re going to be a shitty husband, so they know better than to give her ammunition she’ll want to use against them someday. It can be that they’re just protecting her. Everybody has their own reasons, but it’s a personal choice. It’s easy enough to hide if you don’t mind lying to her. They’re college friends, maybe you made them organically. If one of their connections comes through for you, it could be as simple as that. It’s harder to make it through college without it wrecking your relationship if you don’t tell, though. She has to really trust you because sometimes you’ll have shit to do, and you’ll just disappear for a while. She can’t know where you’re at or who you’re with or even what you’re doing, and she can’t reach you. If you live together, she’ll know you didn’t come home one night, and she won’t know why. Yeah, you can tell her you were with your friends, but girls tend to get suspicious of stuff like that. Eventually, she’s bound to get fed up with you hiding things from her and try to figure out what’s going on for herself, and she’ll guess wrong. People come at situations with only their own knowledge and experiences to shape their perception, and she doesn’t have a point of reference to guess what you’re really doing.”
I nod. “So you’re out doing dark and dangerous deeds, and she’s convinced you’re a cheating bastard because her last boyfriend was.”
“Exactly. And sometimes it’s safer just to let her think that. One of my brothers has a notorious reputation around campus as a serial cheater, bounces from relationship to relationship. They never last long because the first time he has to do something, because of his reputation, his latest girl jumps all over him because she’s convinced he was out cheating. The funny part is, I don’t think he’s ever cheated on a girl in his life. In order to be a Blue Blood, you have to have a demonstrable capacity for loyalty. You have to be capable of discretion and looking at the bigger picture. You have to possess self-control and have good judgement; you have to be someone who considers the consequences of your actions before you act. You can’t be some flighty fucking idiot whose head can be turned by anything in a short enough skirt. There’s no value in having brothers like that. You can’t rely on them. So while we all laugh about it when another relationship explodes because he’s not serious enough about any of them to tell them he’s a Blue Blood, there’s an element to it that’s like… did they even know him? If they did, they wouldn’t think he’s out cheating.”
“Sure, but it sounds like because of his Blue Blood activities, he starts engaging in seemingly shady behaviors early in the relationship before that trust has a chance to be developed. Maybe they haven’t had a chance to get to know him yet.”
He nods. “Yeah, sometimes. But that’s why, unless they’re committed to marriage and either honest or particularly skilled at keeping their partner contentedly in the dark, Blue Bloods don’t famously have very successful romantic relationships.”
“Marriage or bust.”
“Pretty much. Dating doesn’t work for us. Too temporary.”
“Are there… any exceptions?”
I have to ask because while I’m deeply interested in the dynamics of his world, I’m also wondering…
Why is he telling me?
He’s clearly not meant to.
“Exceptions?”
I try not to be obvious, but I feel like my voice gives me away when I ask, “Are you only allowed to tell wives? There’s no other exception? Like, you can’t tell anyone else?”
“If you have a son you think has the potential to be a Blue Blood and he’s attending Calhoun as a legacy, you can tell him. Or if you have a daughter you’d like to marry off to a Blue Blood. You can tell her—or you can just tell them, and if anyone is potentially interested, he’ll find her.”
“But there’s no exception for other women.”
His gaze cuts to mine, and my tummy flutters. “No,” he says simply.
He lets that sit there for a moment, watches the movement of my throat as I swallow, then he goes on.
“But we’re all free to make our own decisions—and to live with the consequences of our choices. We know the stakes if we risk confiding in someone that we believe we can trust and it turns out we’re wrong, and while a Blue Blood is expected to have sound judgment, no one is perfect. Your brothers will support you through the first mistake. Past that, it’s no longer considered a mistake, but a deliberate choice to be reckless. It’s kinda like your advisors, you have to convince them about a class you want to take if they don’t agree it’s right for your degree. You can persuade the Blue Bloods to give you another chance if your mistake was reasonable and you’re committed to making it right, but they don’t hand out chances like candy, so you’d better be more careful going forward. If you slip up once and learn from it, no problem. If you slip up again, you’ll have to face a council of Blue Bloods and explain yourself.”
“Sounds intense.”
“It is. Your fate is in their hands. It’s pretty common knowledge that if you tell one person, you’re putting them at risk. You tell three people, you’re putting yourself at risk. And if the Blue Bloods decide they made the wrong choice recruiting you…”
“Membership revoked,” I guess.
He cracks a smile. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Have you ever told anyone any of this before?” I ask softly.
“No.”
Dinner seemingly forgotten, he approaches me, closing the distance between us in the kitchen. Instinctively, I back up against the counter. “Are you putting me in danger by telling me?” I ask with forced lightness.
His lips tug up. “Not if you know how to keep your mouth shut—and judging by last night, you do.”
“How dare you,” I say without a bit of heat, but the heat certainly rises to my cheeks.
“Just don’t tell anyone you know anything more about the Blue Bloods than campus lore, and you’ll be fine.”
The last bit of distance between us is gone. He’s so close, I can feel his body heat.
His hands grip the edge of the counter at my back. He feels a bit like my captor again, but I have more faith in him today than I did last night. I lick my lips, looking up at him. “Why are you telling me?” I ask softly.
He keeps me pinned there, his piercing blue eyes locked with mine. “I don’t know. I guess you seem trustworthy.”
“I am.”
His gaze drops briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes. “There’s also the fact that you’re staying here now, and it’s not outside the realm of possibility that things will come up. I may have to disappear for a while to handle things. You may not be able to reach me, and you won’t know where I am or what I’m doing or who I’m doing it with.”
My heart flips over.
He wanted me to know because he knows being a Blue Blood can destroy relationships before they even have a chance to develop. He didn’t want me to be in the dark. He didn’t want to lose my trust because he couldn’t explain. He didn’t want secrets to come between us.
He likes me.
And I like him, too.
Once it’s done flipping, my heart fills up with hope. I slide my arms around his neck and pull myself close enough that our bodies are touching. “Thank you for telling me.”
I don’t wait for him to kiss me this time. Leaning in, I softly kiss his hard mouth. I kiss the corners, then I kiss him full on the lips. I start to trail my lips along his strong jawline, but he doesn’t let me do that for long. A hand leaves the counter behind me and he grabs a fistful of my hair. He uses it to tug me back, then he slants his mouth over mine and takes control.
My kiss was soft, but his is greedy and intense. Hungry like it was last night.
It makes my heart race.
Memories resurface of being in bed with him, and I’m reminded I’ll be there again tonight.
When he pulls back, he leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes. My heart pounds, but I keep my arms securely around him.
Finally, he rumbles, “If you want me to feed you, you’d better not kiss me like that again.”
My heart leaps and a helpless grin claims my lips. “Sorry,” I say lightly.