34. Ellie #2
"I'm a killer who fell in love with the daughter of one of his victims. There's nothing heroic about that. There's no version where I'm not the villain."
I stop breathing. I look at his face and then his hands. I can't reconcile the two. "No," I say, shaking my head. "You don't get to say that." I’m backing toward the door, my hand on the knob. Killian doesn't justify it. He doesn't even move. He simply stands in the kitchen and lets me hate him.
"I can't do this," I whisper. "I can't be in the same room as you right now."
"Ellie."
"No. Just stop... I need space. I need time to think."
I turn toward the door, but his voice stops me.
"Ellie." When I look back, his expression is raw. "For what it's worth, everything you felt. It was real. Whatever else was manipulation, your feelings were real."
His words are a blow I didn't see coming. They're exactly what I needed to hear and exactly what I can't accept.
"How would you know?"
"Because they changed you. The way you looked at me. The way you trusted me despite every instinct. It wasn't a performance. You can't fake that."
"Maybe I just made it easy for you. Maybe I was exactly the kind of lonely woman who'd fall for her dangerous patient."
"You're not damaged. You're lonely because you're surrounded by people who don't deserve you. Including me."
"Especially you."
"Especially me," he agrees without hesitation.
The complete absence of self-pity breaks something loose in my chest. Tears I've been holding back finally spill over.
"I hate this," I whisper. "I hate that I don't know what's real anymore. I hate that you're standing there being honest and it just makes me want to…" I stop.
"Want to what?"
"Want to understand. And I can't. I can't understand how the man who killed my father could be the same man who makes me feel like I'm finally home."
"I'm not asking for understanding. I'm asking for time."
"Time for what?"
"I'm asking for time. Time for you to figure out who you are after Grace. Time to separate what you feel from what you think you should feel. Time for me to prove that not everything between us was a lie."
"And if I decide it was?"
"Then I'll accept that. And I'll make sure you're safe from the Order, from Julian, from anyone who might want to hurt you. From a distance."
The offer should feel like relief. Instead, it feels like another loss.
"I need to go," I say.
This time, he doesn't try to stop me. He watches me leave. I can feel his eyes on my back until I round the corner, out of sight.
I make it to my room and collapse. The crying is ugly now. No one is watching. I let it tear out of me. I bury my face in the pillow and wait for the world to stop shaking.
I lie there until my eyes sting. For seven years, he had been watching me. Learning me. Every moment I thought I was finding my way back to myself, he was just making sure I found my way to him.
A knock at the door pulls me back. It’s too light to be Killian.
"Ellie?" Kai’s voice is muffled by the door. "I brought some toast. You need to eat something."
"I’m not hungry." I sit up, rubbing the dried tear trails from my cheeks.
He enters with a tray. He's changed into a sweater and jeans. He looks less like a killer and more like the doctor he was before this. Except for the gun on his hip. That never comes off.
"How are you holding up?" He sets the tray on the edge of the bed.
The question is so absurd, given the circumstances, that I almost laugh. Almost.
"I don't know how to answer that."
"Honestly is usually a good start."
I sit up against the headboard. I reach for the coffee, blowing on the surface to cool it down.
"I feel like I'm losing my mind. Like everything I thought I knew about myself, about my judgment, about my feelings. None of it was real."
Kai settles into the chair by the window. He doesn’t crowd me. He just sits in the corner and waits. "What did he tell you?"
"Everything." I stare at the floor. "He killed my father. He groomed me for years just so he could be the one I turned to when everything fell apart." I stop, the words getting caught in my throat. "He says he loves me."
Kai doesn't move. He watches me with a look that says he already knew. "And how do you feel about that?"
"You're really going to make me work for it, aren't you?" I choke out a laugh that sounds more like a cough.
"I think you need to say it out loud. Whatever it is."
"I want to hate him. But when I look at him, I don't see a killer. I see the only person who's ever made me feel safe."
"And you hate yourself for it."
"Yes." I set the mug down. "Because some twisted, fucked up part of me feels the same way he does."
Kai doesn't flinch. "Love doesn't care about the truth, Ellie. It's just a feeling. A stupid one that doesn't go away because you found out he's a monster."
"He killed my father, Kai. With his bare hands."
"I know." He pauses. "Maybe it's just messed up. Most things worth having usually are."
I want an answer that makes sense. A way to categorize this so I can deal with it. But there aren't any categories for this.
"What do I do with this?" I whisper.
"You don't have to figure it out today," Kai says. "Right now, you only have to survive it."
The kindness in his voice undoes me. Fresh tears spill over, but these feel different somehow. Less desperate, more like a release of pressure that's been building for days.
"I keep thinking about what my father would say," I say through the tears. "About what he would think of this. Of me."
"What would he say?"
"He'd want me to be safe. Happy. He'd hate that I'm caught in this situation, but..." I pause. "He believed in redemption, Kai. Even for the worst people. Especially for the worst people."
"Then maybe that's your answer. Not to any of the big questions, but to how you get through today."
We sit in silence for a few minutes. The timber groans against the mountain wind. Normal sounds for a world that isn't falling apart.
"Killian hasn't slept properly in weeks," Kai says eventually.
"Why... why are you telling me this?"
"Because whatever else he is, whatever he's done, what he feels for you is real. Not healthy, not simple. But real." He pauses. "And that might make it something you can work with. If you choose to."
"That doesn't make it right."
"No," he agrees. "It doesn't. But it gives you a choice."
If you choose to. The phrase echoes in my mind long after Kai leaves. I want to call it Stockholm Syndrome. I want to label it as a trauma bond and bury it under a diagnosis so I don't have to admit I still want him.
But none of those labels fit. What I feel for Killian started long before Grace took me. It started when I stopped being afraid of him and started being afraid of how much I wanted him.
This isn't a sickness. It's love. Impossible. Wrong. But love. And I have no idea what to do with that.
For the first time since he told me the truth, I feel like I can breathe.
I don't have answers. I don't know how to live with the person I've become. I just know that for the first time since my father died, I'm the one deciding what happens next.
And for now, that has to be enough.
I reach for the toast Kai brought, taking a small bite. It's dry and hard to swallow, but I keep it down. I hear Killian outside the door.
It shouldn't make me feel safe. But it’s the only thing that does.