6. Ellie #2
I'm in the kitchen making coffee, and the sound of Nathan's engine makes me freeze. I haven't told him about dinner last night. I haven't told him that Killian already has the measure of this place, or how easily he got under my skin this morning.
Why would I?
It's nothing. I'm reading too much into it. I need to pull myself together.
"Ellie?" Nathan calls as he lets himself in with the key I gave him months ago.
"In the kitchen," I answer, though my voice comes out tighter than I meant.
Nathan appears in the doorway, his charcoal suit without a single wrinkle. He looks every bit the successful attorney everyone says I should want.
Someday, Ellie, you'll find your very own prince. A good, respectable man who will take care of you. He’ll be handsome and smart, and he’ll give you a perfect life.
My mother's voice echoes the reminder.
And then Killian is just there. He steps up behind Nathan, moving without a sound.
The contrast between them is jarring. Nathan is all polished, put together, as he always is. Beside him, Killian doesn't have to try. He just stands there, a solid, unmoving presence that completely dwarfs Nathan.
"You must be Blackthorn," Nathan says, offering his hand with a polite edge. "I'm Nathan Parker. Ellie's boyfriend."
Killian takes it. Nathan gives a firm, professional squeeze. Killian just holds it. He doesn't shake back. For a second, no one moves. I watch the muscles in Killian's forearm lock, holding back just enough not to crush the bones in Nathan's hand, before he finally lets go.
"Mr. Parker." His voice is smooth, almost pleasant. "Dr. Hart mentioned you."
"Has she?" Nathan smiles, but his eyes stay locked on Killian. "She’s told me very little about you."
They stand there in silence. Nathan is trying to stare him down. Killian just watches him back, unblinking, which seems to rattle Nathan even more. I step directly between them, breaking the line of sight.
"Nathan, what brings you by?" I ask, though I already know. He's marking his territory.
"I wanted to check on you. See how things are going with your… houseguest."
Houseguest makes it clear what he thinks of the arrangement. He says the word like it’s a slur. But it's Killian I watch. He hasn't moved a muscle, but his stance has changed. Shoulders squared, feet set. He isn't backing down.
"Everything is fine," I say quickly, trying to sound professional. "We’re working through the program."
"Good." Nathan's hand clamps down on my shoulder as he kisses my cheek. It's a claim, nothing more. "I brought dinner. Thought we could have a quiet evening together."
"That's thoughtful," I start to say, but my focus shifts to Killian. He hasn’t moved. He watches Nathan with perfectly still, unblinking focus.
"I wouldn't want to interrupt your evening," Killian says. His tone is smooth, but the muscles in his jaw flex hard beneath his skin. "I'll be in my room."
"That would be best," Nathan snaps, there's an edge to it that makes my insides knot.
Killian doesn't look away from Nathan immediately. When he finally shifts his gaze to me, the look is blank and terrifyingly cold. He gives one short, rigid nod, then turns and disappears down the hall without a sound.
"Jesus, Ellie." Nathan waits until the hallway is empty before rounding on me. "How can you stand that man in your house?"
"He's not—" I start too quickly, then falter. The image of Killian's stillness, that handshake. "He's… complicated."
"Complicated?" Nathan stares at me like I've lost my mind. "He's a convicted felon. Fuck, he's probably murdered people! The way he was looking at me. At you. It's not normal."
"What do you mean, the way he was looking at me?"
"It's how he looks at you, Ellie." Nathan scrubs a hand hard over his face, pacing a tight circle in the kitchen. "Like he owns you, or the house, or both. It’s sick. Are you completely blind?"
I want to argue. To defend my judgment, defend the program, defend Killian. But I can't put the argument together.
"It's a professional relationship," I manage, but my voice lacks conviction.
Nathan stops pacing. His eyes narrow. "Is it? Because from here, it looks like something else entirely."
"That's ridiculous." I snap the words back instantly, desperate to shut him down.
"Is it? You haven't been yourself since you took this case. You're distracted, defensive, and now I see why. He's dangerous, Ellie. Not just for what he's done, but for what he could do. To you."
I want to push back, but he's too close to the truth. Killian unsettles everything I've tried to keep in order. I think about the way he tracks my every move. The way he stands too close. The deliberate cadence of my name in his mouth.
"You're overreacting," I say.
Nathan doesn't back down.
"Then prove it. End this. Recommend he's moved to institutional housing. Get him out of here before he wrecks everything you've worked for."
He wants me to choose the safe option. The logical option. But the thought of sending Killian away makes my stomach churn.
"I can't," I say. "He's my patient. I have a professional obligation—"
"Professional obligation?" Nathan's voice climbs. "Or fucking personal?"
I stare back at him, completely unable to form a denial. Because he's right. He's rattled my focus, he's entirely too deep in my head, and I haven't done a single thing to push him out.
"I think you should leave." I point to the door.
Nathan just stares at me. "Ellie—"
"Please." I don't lower my hand. "Just go."