Chapter 30
Layla
BELLA
did Kieran just throw himself on top of your car???
LAYLA
what the hell??
are you guys watching us?
BELLA
Grayson put a Ring camera on the front gate
he got a notification and checked it
he’s been cackling for twenty minutes over the footage
do I even want to know why he threw himself on top of your car?
LAYLA
probably not
BELLA
Grayson is having a field day with it, he’s editing the video to make Kieran look like he’s wearing a Spiderman costume
LAYLA
HAHAHAHA
“She asked if I was her new mom?”
The quiet question fills the living room, the same one that just over an hour ago was brimming with laughter and a euphoric lightness. Now it feels so heavy with the implication that I’m struggling to breathe.
Kieran squats before the fire, prodding the logs in an attempt to try and heat our frozen skin but I don’t think I can get warm again, not when my blood has run cold since he told me everything Emmy said.
“I completely froze and I tried, Layla. Fucking hell, I tried to keep it together when she was talking about how she was a bad mommy but you should have seen her sobs. I couldn’t hold myself back from crying.”
Not knowing if I should move closer and comfort Kieran or give him space, I settle on the latter. “I’d be concerned if you didn’t get emotional. Kieran…what she admitted is gut-wrenching.”
He nods slowly, his gaze firmly set on the fire. “At least now it makes sense why she stopped speaking.” He laughs, but it’s humorless. “She was locked in a closet…for hours, maybe even days.”
A gasp flies from me. “But Emmy’s afraid of the dark!”
The muscle in Kieran’s jaw bunches. “Apparently she would scream that she was scared and was just told to shut up.”
No wonder I found Kieran in a daze earlier. It was like he was a zombie, his face crestfallen, skin ashen. The haunted gleam hasn’t left his eyes since I found him in the hallway.
My heart is utterly breaking, not only for that sweet innocent girl that deserved far better but for the man beside me, too, who’s crumbling at the revelation.
Moving forward, I squat beside him, physically incapable of not comforting him any longer, but as I gently brush my hand along his arm, he flinches. His head swings my way, eyes widening. I quickly retract my hand.
“Sorry, I just…I can’t say I’m sorry enough. I wish you two weren’t going through this. I wish Emmy never went through that. I wish there was justice.”
Kieran takes a shuddering breath before reaching out. To my surprise, he slides his hand through mine, interlocking our fingers as he lays down, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Justice is never served to the right people.”
Sadness seeps from his every pore, and I want to do everything in my power to help him. Even if it means carrying some of the heaviness weighing him down.
Lying on the living room floor beside him with our interwoven hands, I turn my head to the side, tracing the outline of his profile, the sharp line of his jaw, his surprisingly long lashes, his nose that is relatively straight except for a slight bump, probably from a break.
It feels like we’ve entered a reality in which we’re the only occupants.
“I wish that wasn’t true,” I whisper between us.
“Why do horrible people always get away with it?”
“With what?”
“With…everything.” His brows furrow. “Not one person in my life was ever held accountable for what they did.” His confession, as quiet as it is, is full of hurt, pain lacing every word.
“And trust me, they deserved it. They all deserved it but…not one person, Layla. Not one of them was ever held accountable so why? Why do victims never get justice?” Kieran falls silent for a moment, his words hanging in the air until he whispers, “Even when they tell someone.”
He says it so softly I can barely make out the words, my heart skipping a beat when I realize what he said.
“Did you tell someone?”
Kieran’s tongue darts out, swiping along his bottom lip before he quickly dips his chin. The movement is short and quick, so subtle in fact that if I wasn’t watching him vehemently, I never would have caught it.
“And they didn’t do anything?”
A tear rolls down his cheek. He makes no move to wipe it away as he laughs, the sound jarring and blunt. “I was told that good boys need to act like men and not tell lies.”
Another tear rolls down his cheek, his heartbreak on full display.
“I put it to rest a long time ago, put those memories in a box and did my best to never look at them. I could accept not getting justice for my pain. I could…stomach it,” he says, but the grimace tells me he doesn’t believe what he’s saying.
Deep down, he’s still that little boy wishing someone would hear him.
He takes a shuddering breath. “But Emmy? My sweet girl? Where is her justice? Her mom is dead. She can’t be held accountable, can’t be punished for the horrific shit she put her through and…what? I’m supposed to just go on with my life and be okay with it all?”
“Never.”
He turns to me then, his eyes a storm of rough seas and turbulence. Of such raw pain it steals my breath.
“You keep doing what you are. Keep giving Emmy a voice, a safe home that will combat the memories of her early years, and continue to show her what it means to be loved.” Sighing, I relent, “The justice of it, though… You’re right Kieran you can’t get it for her.
You can’t hold her mom responsible, and I’d be lying if I said I think you can get past that.
There will probably be days where it eats you alive and others where you’re just grateful you have Emmy with you. ”
“I hate that they’re never held responsible…that no one ever listens.”
“I listen.” I squeeze his hand. “I’ll always listen and believe you, Kieran.”
He blinks, surprise flickering there. “I haven’t even told you what happened though.”
“I don’t need to know to believe you. I know who you are, I know what type of man you are, and I know your character. You’d never lie, and whoever told you that you were a liar is despicable.”
“You called me a liar once.”
My eyes shutter close, lips thinning. “And I hate myself for it.”
His rough calloused fingers brush across my cheek, drawing my eyes open. “Hey, you didn’t know, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.” I hope he sees the truth in my eyes. “I knew you weren’t a liar, I just—” Biting my lip, I decide to confess, “When Bella started working for Grayson and they were doing the PR relationship, I kept an eye on the bunny sites…”
Kieran’s brows flick up. “That makes sense then.”
“You’re on there a lot, Kieran, and I hate to admit it, but I just believed it all. So when you told me you hadn’t been with anyone…I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. That was wrong.”
Shrugging, he runs his free hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t have believed me either. I promise, it’s fine, Layla.”
“It’s not, though. It hit a nerve that night and now I know why and I’m so sorry.”
The tension lining his shoulders seems to loosen, our hands remaining intertwined as he rubs his thumb back and forth along the back of my hand.
“Thank you for apologizing.” Groaning to himself, he murmurs, “Her therapist is going to have a field day when I call her tomorrow.” Rolling onto his side to face me fully, he lets go of our hands to brush a stray lock of my hair behind my ear.
“Thank you…for staying and for talking through this all with me.” He offers a rueful smile.
“Though, I have to be honest, sunshine, I’m feeling raw here.
I’ve told you things no one knows. Care to even the playing field? ”
Rolling onto my side with a smile stretched taut across my cheeks I tease. “Trying to coax another confession from my list?”
“Always,” he toys.
The heaviness of our conversation still lingers but it isn’t as thick as it was. Kieran has this way about him, this magical quality to turn even the darkest of moments into something light, and I don’t think he’s even aware of how special it is.
“Come on, sunshine, my heart just bled. Give me something to look forward to.”
Biting my bottom lip, I can’t hold back my grin. “I’ll give you something better.” Sitting up, I feel his gaze on me as I locate my phone. I quickly type out the text and hit send. A moment later, Kieran’s phone buzzes from somewhere in the living room.
He stretches his arm behind his head, the move lifting his black shirt, showing a sliver of his lower abdomen and the biceps covered in ink. “You dirty texting me?”
Snorting out a laugh, I whack his shoulder playfully. “You wish.”
“Every day.”
He knocks his knee against my leg, the movement sending a jolt through my body. “Are you going to tell me the confession?”
Quirking a brow I tease, “A bit impatient, are we?”
“With you, always.” He winks. “But I’d still wait a lifetime.”
Rolling my eyes I jab his chest. “I just gave you something far greater than a confession.”
“Is that so?” He holds out his hand. “Pass me my phone.”
I shake my head and chuckle as he pouts playfully. “Not while I’m here. You have to read it alone.”
His eyes glow at the word read. “You’re making me want to ask you to leave just so I can find out.”
I throw my head back as a deep belly laugh escapes me.
I go to move but he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me down to the floor with him, the sudden movement startling me, making a shrill squeak escape.
“I said want, not that I was going to do it. I might have had a momentary lapse in judgment earlier tonight but that will never happen again.”
He holds me against him, his tattooed arms keeping me captive, and I find that I don’t want to leave.
Running my fingers along one of his designs, my smile fades and Kieran stiffens as my fingers trace over a raised bump. I pause over the top of it, curiosity getting the better of me before I force my finger to move away but I find another…and another…and another.
With sickening dread, I come to the stark realization that Kieran’s tattoos are more than just a beautiful artistic design—they’re hiding secrets.
My heart free-falls.
“Kieran—”
“The box, sunshine,” he whispers. “Keep the memories in the box.”