Chapter Thirty-nine
D ean wraps me in his arms, holding back on the tightness but it feels good to be hugged.
“Good to see you out of the hospital mini-Levine,” He ruffles my hair, “Had us worried for a minute.”
I roll my eyes at him, “Good to see you too.”
Malakai and Olivia arrived about five minutes ago and Dean only just, leaving Killian the only one not here. He hasn’t been back to see me since he called me Tiny Dancer and while I could have messaged him, I chose not to. I’m not sure what happened but he isn’t the same Kill I’ve known for most of my life.
It makes me incredibly sad .
Shrugging it off, I go to follow Dean into the dining room until the front door opens behind me.
And there he is, dressed entirely in black with his hair disheveled and his dark eyes haunted by ghosts he’ll never let anyone see.
“Savannah,” He rasps my name, his eyes dipping down me slowly. I’m only in sweats and an oversized band tee I stole from Willow’s closet earlier today, but his eyes eat me up in a way that strips me bare.
“Hi,” I squeak, watching him close the gap between us. The last thing I expect from him is a hug, but his arms come around me and his face presses into my hair. I swear I hear him inhale, his whole body relaxing with his exhale. His hands linger for a moment before he pushes away from me, that cold armor coming back over him.
He’s so hot and cold it gives me whiplash but the feel of him, his hand, the smell of him, it all touches parts of me I didn’t know I had. My skin prickles with the phantom whisper of him and a voice inside of my head wants me to push, to fight, to follow the trail to see what’s at the end of it.
He’s hiding something .
But what the fuck could he be hiding and if it’s so important, why the fuck can I not remember it!?
I walk through to the dining room where everyone now is, sitting at the table with their drinks and take my place next to Willow, curling my legs under myself to watch the family that made my life what it is .
The chair beside mine scrapes out and Killian folds his massive body into it, a glass with two fingers of whiskey in it in his hand. He doesn’t look at me or even acknowledge my presence, but when he pushes his chair back in, it’s a little closer to mine than it was before.
He remains close to me the whole evening, his thigh brushing mine every time he moves to reach for his glass by his plate. He doesn’t speak to me, choosing only to talk with the rest of them but I’ve caught him looking over more than once.
That knot of unease is present, this familiar tugging incessantly pulling me toward him with no reason why. There’s safety in Killian but surely, that’s the same for all the guys here? Why does it feel so different with him? It wasn’t like this before; sure, I’ve had a crush on him since I was a teenager but that’s just it. Nothing has changed, not before the accident and not now but even he is acting differently with me. No one else seems to notice this, no one has said a thing and yet I can’t fucking brush off this need to lean closer, to press my leg further into his and soak in his warmth.
“Excuse me,” I say to the table and get up, ready to get some air. It’s all too much.
I’m wrong, I know I am but my brain… it won’t fucking shut up about it. It’s as if it’s been rewired to look into every minor detail, to make a story out of only a few words. Shutting myself into the bathroom, I turn the lock and run the faucet, splashing cold water onto my flushed face. My cheeks are pink, my bottom lip swollen and sore from all the gnawing I’ve done on it .
There are no secrets to spill and no stories to tell. They wouldn’t keep that from me and if something had changed, if something had happened with Killian I know he would have told me. I trust that man, with my whole life, I trust him.
Water drips from my chin as I hang my head, the sound of the water running accompanying my heavy breathing as I try to get a hold on myself.
I’ve been through something traumatic. Survived when the odds were not in my favor, of course there are going to be a few bumps. I’m just being ridiculous, romanticizing something out of comfort.
When I feel a little more in control of myself and less like I am about to fall apart at the seams, I leave the bathroom, plastering on a fake smile way before the door is even open. But when I step out, I bump, nose first, straight into a wall.
No. Not a wall. A chest, a very hard, very warm chest that smells fucking fantastic.
Arms reach out to steady me, large hands wrapping around my upper arms gently.
My eyes flick up only to find Killian staring down at me, the fathomless depths of his eyes seeming to swallow me whole. He looks down his nose, face blank of any emotion but he isn’t letting go of me.
“Sorry,” I mumble, “I wasn’t looking.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, “Are you okay?”
That is a loaded question .
No would be the truth but I know that’s not what everyone wants to hear. They want me to be okay, to bounce back like nothing even happened.
“I’m fine,” I widen the false smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
His hands do a gentle squeeze, “Don’t lie to me, Savannah.” There’s a warning in his tone that does the opposite of what it’s supposed to. Instead of feeling reprimanded or scared, I feel warm, like a thousand mini butterflies have taken flight inside of my stomach.
“I’m not lying,” I breathe. Neither of us attempt to move and he still doesn’t remove his hands, if anything he is closer, the air around us sizzling.
He blinks slowly and quirks a single brow in challenge, “That right?” He cocks his head to the side, the move somewhat animalistic, like a predator sizing up its prey to see which angle would be best to strike.
“Of course,” The lie burns.
A heavy silence falls between us but then a loud clatter sounds from down the hall and Killian drops his hands, stepping to the side to let me through. I dip my eyes, the moment shattered and move to step away.
“If you’re going to lie, Savannah,” His voice is soft, a rasp that runs down my spine and prickles against my skin, “Make sure the person you’re lying to hasn’t figured out your tells.”
I spin, mouth agape but he’s already shutting himself in the bathroom, stopping the conversation .
For a minute, I stand there, wondering what the hell just happened but then Bast calls my name, his chair scraping across the floor to come look for me so I rush back to them, pushing whatever the hell that was with Killian to the side for the minute.
Bast is just rounding the table when I come back into the room, ignoring every set of eyes on me.
“Where did you go?” He frowns, running his eyes over me as if he can see what’s wrong. But he won’t.
“I just needed a minute is all,” I fake a yawn, “Listen, I’m exhausted, these meds really fuck with me, do you mind if I just call it a night?”
“Of course,” He sighs, “Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m good,” I peer round him to the rest of the group still sitting at the table save that one vacant spot where Killian should be. “Night guys!”
They all say it back and before anyone can ask anything, I beeline for the stairs.
“Sleep tight, Tiny Dancer,” His voice freezes me, and I look over my shoulder to see him at the bottom of the stairs, hands in his pockets. There’s something there, something churning in his dark eyes, but I can’t name it.
“Good night, Killian.”
I go the rest of the way and the whole time; I feel his eyes on my back.