CHAPTER 11
KILLIAN
My alarm blares in my ear, tearing me from an already fitful sleep and I mutter a string of curses as I reach out and switch it off.
My conversation with Hunter has been playing on a loop in my head for a week and I still haven’t decided what I want to do with the information.
I thought about maybe trying the friendship route with Daisy, but I’m not sure either one of us are ready for that yet.
Hell, she still can’t even look at me, so I’m not holding out hope of her wanting to be my friend.
Somewhere between midnight and the birds tweeting, I came to the conclusion that until I have formulated a solid plan, I’m just going to make myself more… present.
I’ve tended to avoid the ranch, and even Noah more than usual since she started working there.
I know Noah well enough to know that he’s likely to give me a rundown of her day to day just to fuck with me and the whole point of my staying away is so that I don’t have to know every detail of her life, ergo… avoid Noah at all costs.
And as much as that has worked wonders for me, I’m not going to get any answers by staying away.
After speaking to Hunter, I’m more certain than ever that the reason she left was because she was sick and not because she was having a secret affair like Noah had suggested.
I’m also sure that my sister doesn’t know about any of this, either. If Bella had known about Daisy being sick, she wouldn’t have been able to keep that to herself. Unless she’s suddenly a really good fucking liar.
Which means I’m not the only person Daisy shut out. And I’m not sure if I feel better or worse about that. Because if that is the case, then it’s very likely that she has been dealing with the alone.
What I don’t understand, and I have been circling this question in my mind on repeat all week, is why she wouldn’t come to me about it.
I would have supported her.
I would have been whatever she needed me to be, whenever she needed it.
Even now.
If she came to me today and told me she needed me, I would be there. No ifs, buts or questions about it.
Because despite everything, she was my best friend.
The love of my life.
And she always will be.
I have no insight to what her life was like in Montana. If she had friends, or a boyfriend. And I don’t know what made her come home after all this time, but I would be lying if I said I’m not happy about it.
Because for years I have dreamt of the day she would return. And for the longest time, I truly believed that the day would never come.
I used to imagine how I would react seeing her for the first time again. In some scenarios, I would be happy. I would wrap my arms around her and tell her she was never leaving me again. Other times I was so full of anger I couldn’t even look at her.
Neither of those ideations played out. And as much as I’ve been a dick to her since she returned, it doesn’t change the fact that I missed her.
God, I missed her so fucking much.
My phone blares with my second alarm, because I usually suck at dragging my ass out of bed, and I sit up with a long sigh, scrubbing at my face with both hands.
Deciding that I’ve procrastinated long enough, I haul my ass out of bed and into the shower, where I try to come up with a way in which I can make myself more present without sparking suspicion.