16. Kellan
KELLAN
The sun hasn’t risen yet. The hotel room is gray and blue with pre-dawn light, the kind that makes everything feel softer than it is. Caroline is still asleep, her cheek crushed against my naked chest. Her eyes move gently beneath her eyelids, her dreams in technicolor behind them.
A small sliver of drool falls out the corner of her mouth into my chest hair, and I can’t fight the urge to stroke her face. I feel the heat of sleep on her skin and push her matted hair behind her ear, letting my fingers trace her lobe and her jaw.
Her eyes flutter softly, and she looks up at me with, for a moment, what looks like genuine affection.
And then something else passes over her face—a realization, memory.
She pulls away from me, her skin pulling off me like I’m a leather seat in the sun, and slips out from under the blanket.
For just a second, I get a glimpse of her body again, though I try not to stare.
She’s pale, like she’s never been in the sun, and her golden hair cascades down her back.
Her breasts and ass are bigger than they look in the baggy clothes she normally wears, her waist smaller and her nipples alert and peachy.
Her clit is bigger than most I’ve seen, and sensitive.
I think of the way she cooed when I patted it, and I swallow as I force my gaze to stay on the wall opposite me.
“Caroline,” I say hoarsely, clearing my throat. But she walks quickly across the room and is in the bathroom before I can finish the thought. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway.
When she comes back out fully dressed, the air feels different. Heavier, quieter. She doesn’t say a word to me. She packs things into the suitcase and throws the used linens into a corner. A strange expression tugs at her lips, like she doesn’t know if she should feel ashamed or victorious.
I help her, gathering towels and blankets, and our fingers graze each other when I throw a sample of soap into the suitcase.
I look up at her to see if she feels the same spark that I do when we touch, but she doesn’t meet my gaze.
I see her inhale sharply, see it in her moving chest, and she pulls her hand back to comb through her wet hair.
The motion pulls her shirt up high enough to show me the bottom of her stomach and her waist, and I think of the soft skin there, the way I can graze her bush from there.
Her wrists are red from wearing the cuffs for so long.
I want to say something, but the words are all too dangerous.
A knock comes. Two short taps. Declan or Rian.
“Time to go,” Rian calls, and I open the door to see him already dressed, already on. He raises an eyebrow at me, then glances at Caroline, lingering half a second too long. “You packed?”
“Almost,” I say. My voice sounds like gravel.
He doesn’t press, but I can feel his curiosity radiating off him in waves. Rian sees too much. He reads people like dossiers. Caroline brushes past me, dragging the bag behind her. She doesn’t make eye contact with either of us.
Downstairs, Declan is already pacing outside the black SUV. The engine’s running. He doesn’t say anything when he sees us, just opens the rear door and nods toward the seat. Caroline hesitates half a second. Then she climbs in without a word.
“Jet’s waiting,” he mutters.
I throw the last bag in the back and sit beside her. The energy radiating off her thighs seems visible to me. I worry everyone can see it. Rian slides into the passenger seat as Declan gets into the driver’s.
Rian twists around to face both of us. “You two sleep okay?” he asks casually.
A small scoff, and Caroline picks at her nails before bringing her thumbnail to her mouth. Her teeth chew around it like it’s a corn cob. “Some,” she replies quietly.
Rian nods slowly, like he’s storing the sound of her voice, looking for cracks. “Long drive ahead. Maybe you’ll sleep through it.”
She doesn’t respond.
The car pulls onto the highway, and I keep my eyes on the road outside the window, though all I can think about is the shape of her shoulder in the moonlight.
The soft inhale of breath when my fingers grazed her thigh.
The way she didn’t flinch, the way she asked for me.
Wanted me, even in the face of all this.
She isn’t looking at me now. I tell myself that’s a good thing.
“Where are we taking her again?” I ask, to break the silence.
“Back to Boston,” Declan says flatly.
“Why?” she asks quietly, her voice a squeak.
She looks up, her thumb still in her mouth, being chewed on.
Her cheek twists in silent contemplation.
She’s nervous. The family she left behind is there.
The closer we get to Boston, the closer we get to the memories and the origin of it all.
And farther away from her sons and her friend and her normalcy.
Declan considers a moment before answering, “ Da wants eyes on you. He’s not impressed with how long this is taking. He doesn’t understand why you’re still alive.”
“Neither do I,” Caroline murmurs.
Declan looks into the rearview mirror at her and says, “Nor I, to be honest.”
“It’s not a job you rush,” I mutter.
Declan shoots me a look but doesn’t argue. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and returns his attention to the road.
Rian, however, looks at me through his peripheral.
His face turns just slightly so he can take me in without giving anything away.
When he’s gathered whatever he needs to, he leans back and runs his hands through his curls so his elbows flare out, taking up too much space.
I can’t tell what point he’s making. Ownership. Possession. Privilege.
Power.
The car goes quiet again, just the hum of tires and breath and tension. I feel like we’re all waiting for something to snap.
Only I know it already has.