11. Lilah
LILAH
You’ll always be my favorite once upon a time,
even if you can never be my happily ever after...
Now that’s a good lyric.
—Lilah’s Secret Thoughts
Killian
Gonna be a few more hours at the gym. You still at home?
Lilah
Yeah. Tasha is here going over a few things.
Killian
The hot assistant?
Lilah
No banging my assistant, asshole.
P lease, sweet baby Jesus, do not let him actually want to bang my assistant.
I tease the rest of the guys about it. But not him. Him, I might actually castrate if he were to go there. Yup. Slowly. Then I’d fire her.
Killian
Worry about Maverick or Jamie, not me, princess. I’m in training, remember.
Lilah
And?
Killian
No distractions. Girls are distractions.
Lilah
Women stop liking being referred to as girls by the time they’re twenty, St. James.
Killian
Do you live to drive me insane?
Lilah
Maybe . . .
Killian
You do a really good job of it.
Don’t leave without Xander or one of the guys.
Lilah
I don’t need a babysitter.
Killian
Then why have I been living at your house for two weeks?
Lilah
I thought it was the gym in my basement.
Killian
Well, it’s sure as shit not for your stunning personality.
Stay home, please.
Infuriating. Completely. Totally. Utterly infuriating.
He knows if he asks nicely, it’s harder for me to say no.
He’s also been insanely overprotective the past few days since someone tried to scale the fence and get onto the property in the middle of the night. Xander’s team handled it and told me about it the next day, and Killian basically lost his mind. As if waking us up at two a.m. after it was handled was the better move. What would that have done except scare me to death and make sure I was awake the rest of the night?
I silence my phone and toss it aside, then give my full attention back to my assistant, Tasha.
“Okay, your final fitting for your birthday dress is tomorrow. The party is Saturday, which is your birthday.” Tasha checks off her list, like it’s her favorite thing in the world to do. I’m pretty sure her lists have lists. Wish I was half as organized as she is.
“Really?” I tease. “The party is Saturday?”
“Yes,” she answers in all seriousness, like Saturday isn’t Valentine’s Day. Also known as Noah’s and my birthday. “Oh, right. That one you knew.”
“Yup,” I laugh. “One of the few things I manage to remember.” The teapot whistles, and I move around my kitchen, grabbing my honey and lemon. “Would you like a cup?”
“No. I’m good, thanks.” Her fingers fly across the keyboard of her MacBook before she stops and looks up again. “Did you need me to pick up anything for Noah?”
“Nope. I’ve got him covered.” I squeeze my lemon in my tea and drizzle way too much honey before I stir and sip. Ahh... soup is comfort food for some people. For me, it’s tea with honey and lemon.
“Perfect.” The intercom system in the house beeps, followed by Xander’s voice. “Mr. Beneventi is here to see you, Lilah.”
“Which Mr. Beneventi, Xander? There’s a ton of them.” I swear, he needs to get laid so he’ll lighten up. Hmm... I look over at Tasha... Maybe there is one person who could be allowed to bang my assistant.
“Lilah, let me through the gate. It’s cold out here,” I hear Maverick’s voice carry through the speaker.
“Hi, Aunt Tink,” a little voice chimes in, and I’m suddenly giddy and ready to toss aside all my plans for the day. I mean, if I had any, I’d throw those bitches through the window for that sweet voice.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite rose. You should have said it was you, Rosie. Why don’t you leave your daddy outside and you come in and give me a squeeze.”
Beautiful tinkling laughter comes through the speaker as I hear the beep of the gate rising. “We can’t leave Daddy outside.”
The line goes dead, and I know Maverick’s heading up to the house.
“I think that’s it for the day, Tasha. Thanks for your help. I’ll see you Saturday.” I take a sip of my tea and wait for her to pack up. Tasha has been with me for a few years, and she’s great, but I don’t mix my family and work, and Mav and Briar Rose are firmly planted in the family category, even if not by blood.
I think I see a flash of annoyance cross her face, but I can’t be sure because it’s gone as fast as it appeared. “Great. Thank you, Lilah. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Tink...” Maverick’s booming voice is followed by a knock on the door before it opens. “Son of a nutcracker, Tink.” Maverick lets himself in my house as Tasha and I move into the foyer. Mav sees Tasha and scoops Rosie up on his hip, then glares at who he considers a stranger in his presence. One of the only people I’ve ever met more private than me is Maverick, and it’s because of that little girl.
“A nutcracker?” Tasha asks, and I think Mav actually growls.
“Be nice, Daddy,” Rosie tells him as she rests her head on his shoulder. “Mimi says you have to work on that.”
I smother my laughter. I swear Mav’s mom has been saying he should work on that his whole life. He only finds alternative ways to curse because he doesn’t want to use adult words in front of Rosie. I try to watch myself, but I slip at least once every time I see her. If I have kids one day, their first word is definitely going to be fuck , and it’s absolutely going to be my fault.
“I’m just going to take that as my cue to leave,” Tasha announces awkwardly before she waves and lets herself out.
Once the door is closed behind her, Mav throws the lock and puts Rosie down. “Was she the last one to come in, Tink?”
I nod, and his eyes darken. “If she leaves that door unlocked again, fire her. I don’t care how much security you have.” He looks down at Rosie and palms her head like a basketball, then runs his hand over her soft hair. No one would know this big, tough football player, who just won the Super Bowl two weeks ago, could be such a softie for his kid, mainly because the world doesn’t even know Briar Rose exists, and Maverick has no intention of changing that any time soon.
I ignore Maverick and his impending lecture and squat down next to one of my most favorite little girls and bop her on the nose. “Hey, Rosie, do you know what I have?”
She shakes her head excitedly.
“I have ice cream.”
Her cherubic face falls with disappointment. “I can’t have ice cream, Aunt Tink.”
I look at her father and wink before looking back at Rosie. “Oh, ye of little faith...”
“Ye of what who?” she asks, confused.
I pop up on my feet and take her hand in mine. “It just means trust me. Aunt Tink has you covered.”
“But I don’t want to be covered. The splotches itch, and they always come if I have ice cream.”
This poor kid. She’s four years old and already knows not to touch dairy, wheat, or nuts. Tree nuts and peanuts. But the peanuts are the worst. The others will give her a horrible rash. But the peanuts—that one is deadly.
I guarantee Maverick has two epi pens in the backpack he’s got hanging from one shoulder. I know there’s at least another one in his car. His parents have two at their house, and everyone in Rosie’s sphere knows the rules. We have to. No slipups. Never.
Noah and I were on tour the only time she’s ever needed her epi pens, and she needed them both. Two Halloweens ago, she was having her weekly visitation with her mother and helped herself to a peanut butter cup from her mom’s purse. Thank God the social worker was there, monitoring the visit, and acted fast or it could have been a very different thing. As it was, they kept Rosie in the hospital overnight. I can’t imagine what that had to be like for her or him.
“Tink...” Maverick warns as we walk into the kitchen.
“You can check the ingredients yourself, big Daddy. But I promise you, I checked. It hasn’t been opened, and you know me. There is not a peanut substance to be found in this house.” I grab the carton out of the fridge and pass it to Maverick, then sit Rosie on my counter and grab two spoons. “Look good?”
“Does it, Daddy?”
Mav smiles, and Rosie cheers.
“I have strawberries we can add too,” I tell her and kiss her cheek.
My front door opens again, and I glance over at the security cameras displayed on the corner counter of the kitchen. Noah. “Tink...” he calls out.
Rosie’s eyes get big and excited. “She’s back here, Uncle Noah.”
“Is that my favorite girl?”
She nods, and I melt.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he says to Mav once he walks into the kitchen, Baby’s case in his hand.
“Nope. No cats, Uncle Noah. I’m allergic to them too.”
He goes to the kitchen sink and washes his hands, then picks her up and drops a kiss on her head. “Hey, Rosie Posie. Want to help Tink and me write a song?”
“Ohh...” She looks at Mav. “Can I, Daddy?”
“You’ll probably do a better job than he will, sweetheart.” Mav leans in, like he’s about to tell her the greatest secret in the world. “He’s not that good. I heard Aunt Lilah does all the hard work.”
I dig my spoon into the ice cream and hide my smile. “This is why you’re my favorite.”
“I’m the hottest one too,” Mav waggles his dark brows, and Rosie cracks up.
“Are you sick, Daddy? It’s not hot in here. Do you have a fever?”
The three of us try to hold in our laughter, but we lose the fight, and instead of being upset, Rosie joins in with us. I don’t think she has a clue what she’s laughing at, but she’s laughing with her whole heart the way only little kids can.
Later, when Jamie shows up, I smell a rat. A big, fat, stupid rat, who doesn’t want me home alone for a few hours. One who’s getting harder to keep locked in the safe little box I’ve had him shoved in for a decade.
But as I sit on the floor with Rosie in my lap, and Jamie and Mav in front of the TV playing Madden , I’m happy. Truly happy.
With Noah on my couch, strumming a new chord, while Rosie and I try to put words to the music, I can’t seem to remember why I’m supposed to be mad.
Killian
I t’s after eight by the time I get back to Lilah’s that night. Today was fucking grueling. The kind of day you think might never end. But when I walk into her house and hear her laughing, I might just breathe a little easier. She doesn’t do that as much as she used to.
Laughter... I never knew it was something you could take for granted.
I drop my bag by the steps and follow the sound to the edge of the family room, and what I see stops me cold. Lilah and the guys are all stretched out on her couch, while the end credits of The Hangover roll over the fucked up evidence of Wolfpack’s night in Las Vegas. Rosie is tucked against Lilah, sleeping with her head against her chest and her fingers wrapped around her hair. These two are the perfect picture of pure love and innocence, and fuck me, it hits me hard. Harder than it should.
I’m not sure how long I stand there watching them, but the next thing I know, the commercials are rolling, and everyone is walking toward me. Rosie’s in Maverick’s arms now, and Lilah is ignoring me as she chats with Jamie. She looks at me and dismisses me just as quickly as everyone else says their goodbyes.
Lilah walks the guys to the front of the house, while Noah puts his bass away in a case and locks it. He grabs the handle but moves in front of me, then waits.
“What’s up, man?” I ask, too fucking tired to deal with people.
Even my people.
“Good call, letting us know she was going to be alone all day.”
“No problem. She just didn’t feel like going to Crucible today, and I had to go. I can do a lot in the gym downstairs, but not everything. She’s probably pissed at me.” Not that I’m shocked.
“She’s always pissed at you.” Noah shrugs, but there’s something about the rigid way he’s holding himself. The line of his shoulders. Like he’s coiled tight. “You gonna tell me what’s going on with you and my sister?”
That’s it.
There’s the strike.
Fast and brutal, like a snake bite.
“What are you talking about? Spit it out, man. I’m tired. And let’s not forget you asked me to do this.” I look toward the foyer but can’t see Lilah.
“I didn’t ask you to look at her like you were looking,” he groans.
“Jesus, Noah. How the fuck do you think I was looking at her?” I don’t know what the hell he’s going on about, and I’m so far over it and this day, I don’t even give a shit.
“You were looking like she was your world...” When I don’t answer him, he steps back with a curse. “Be careful, Killer. I’m not standing here warning you off. That’s not how we are. But I’m telling you if you hurt her, I don’t give a shit how tough you are. I’ll make you fucking regret you ever met her.”
“You think I don’t know how much easier this would all be if—Shit. Shit . It would be easier.” Damn, it would be easier.
“What would?” Lilah asks as she enters the kitchen behind us.
Noah drops a kiss on his sister’s head. “Nothing, Tink. Lock up behind me. And send me the rest of the lyrics I know you wrote while Rosie was sleeping.”
“They sucked, Noah,” she sighs, and the tightness in her shoulders and neck snap into place.
“You’ve got to get past this block at some point. Might as well try now. Maybe it’ll help.” He pulls his keys from his pocket and auto-starts his car. “’Night, guys.”
Lilah waits for the front door to click shut, then turns to the security system on the counter and arms it. “I’m going to make more tea. Do you want some?”
“No, thanks.” In the next room, I hear The Hangover Part Two starting. “Want to watch a movie with me?”
I shouldn’t ask.
We’ve stayed as far apart as two people living together can get away with since our first morning together. I’ve spent those weeks trying to convince myself it’s what we needed. Neither of us splitting focus on the important things in our own lives while we coexisted and stuck to our agreement. But I’m already tired of lying to myself. This woman... Fuck ... I take her hand in mine and drag her gently to the couch. “Come on, princess.”
I drop down into the oversized cushions and pull her down with me.
“I hate that nickname,” she whispers as something stirs in her cobalt eyes. Darker than the stars shining in through the giant wall of windows surrounding us.
“No, you don’t,” I whisper back and grab her favorite blanket from the back of the couch and wrap it around her.
Twenty minutes into the movie, she’s sound asleep and lightly snoring.
Thirty minutes in, and her head is on my chest the way Rosie’s was on hers earlier.
By the halfway mark, I lift her in my arms and carry her to bed.
I try to convince myself it’s because I don’t want to wake her.
Lilah has always looked like an angel when she slept.
But as I walk up the stairs with her in my arms and her head resting on my shoulder, I know it’s more than that. So fucking much more. The way she feels against me. Peace and warmth and home and hope all wrapped up in one beautiful woman.
I walk into her room and am assaulted by everything Lilah. Her scent surrounds me, and the pictures on her dresser assault me. The five of us in high school. Dillan and her at the beach. Rosie and her at one of Lilah’s concerts. Bright pink noise-canceling headphones on Rosie’s small head, beaded bracelets up and down her little arms, and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face.
I force myself to move and pull down her white blanket, then lay her in her bed.
My fingers caress the curve of her face before I lean down and kiss her forehead. “Sleep, princess. No one will ever hurt you again. Not even me.” The words are a whispered promise. They might as well be a sacred oath for as much as I mean every single one of them.
When I stand, she rolls to her side and tucks her hands under her face unconsciously and murmurs, “Do you swear, Killian?”
“With my life, Lilah.” I drag my finger down her face again, then pull the blanket up and tuck her in. “With my life...”