CHAPTER 43
KILLIAN
Every friendship group consists of four different types of people.
There’s the oldest of the group; the playboy turned family man.
The broody one with a dark past full of trauma, who keeps to himself.
The level-headed friend that usually ends up being the voice of reason when shit goes south. That’s me, in case you were wondering.
And then, there’s Noah. The party boy with the fuck-it-all attitude for life and self-appointed bad influence.
I don’t know how he manages to convince everyone to carry the party on at The Boot every time we’re together as a group, but somehow, he does.
After Grayson’s epic declaration of love in front of his entire family, Noah demanded we all go out and celebrate.
It’ll be a joint celebration of new life and Grayson finally pulling his finger out of his ass, he’d said.
The typically grumpy brother is practically floating on air now that he’s finally won his girl back. It’s been a long time since Grayson smiled so freely, but tonight it seems he can’t wipe the smile from his face.
Hunter and Savannah of course declined Noah’s invitation, wanting to spend time at home with their family. And I don’t blame them one bit. I’d have done the same thing.
It was a sight to behold; watching Hunter show off his newborn son tonight like the proud father he is. He’s come a damn long way from the arrogant bachelor he was before the blonde bombshell with the whip smart attitude strutted into his local dive bar and knocked his world off its axis.
It was also bittersweet. Daisy was in the back of my mind and in the periphery of my vision the entire day. I was painfully aware of every move she made from the moment she entered the room.
It can’t have been easy for her to be there today. I know that she’s had a lot of time to come to terms with her fertility struggles and the loss of our baby, but a lot of old wounds have been reopened over the past few weeks, likely stirring up a whole heap of emotions.
It’s taken me a few days to absorb everything Daisy told me last week in her parent’s kitchen and come to terms with it. In the past week I’ve done a lot of self-reflecting, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m an asshole.
She opened up to me. She laid her soul bare before me in the most vulnerable way possible and I made it about myself.
I walked out on her, not once but twice. And in doing so, I solidified every fear she had from the very beginning: that I wouldn’t be there for her once I learned the truth. That I wouldn’t want her anymore.
But that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Now that I’ve had time to clear my head and come to terms with everything, I’ve never been more certain about what I want.
And what I want is my wife.
Daisy has this ideation that children being off the table is a deal breaker for me. She took the dreams of a broken seventeen-year-old boy with an alcoholic mother and absentee father and clung to them, convincing herself that if those dreams weren’t fulfilled, she would no longer be an option.
She’s wrong.
I’ve wanted Daisy from the very first time I laid eyes on her.
She’s always been my first and only choice.
She is my dream.
Everything else is just a bonus.
And the fact she ever had to question that is a failure on my part.
Now I just need to make it right.
Could tonight be an opportunity for me to do that? I’m not sure. Only time will tell, I guess.
Daisy hasn’t looked at me once all day and I feel like we’ve gone back in time to the first few weeks after she returned. It pissed me off then, and it’s pissing me off now.
It pisses me off because every fibre in my being ignites when I’m in the vicinity of her. My body comes alive when she’s around and my eyes are immediately drawn to her. There’s an invisible string between us, tying our souls and tethering us to one another.
When I’m around Daisy, I feel complete. I feel whole for the first time in my life, like all the pieces that have been missing finally slot into place.
But at times, like right now, when she keeps her attention focused on anything and anyone but me, it drives me crazy.
I want her eyes on me. I want her to be aware of my every movement.
For her breath to hitch when she feels me near, and goosebumps to break out across her skin when my arm brushes hers.
The need to touch her, to brush her curls to the side and whisper things in her ear that will send a shiver through her body, is overwhelming.
First and foremost, though, I need to apologize.
“Dude,” Noah snaps, drawing my attention away from Daisy and back to him.
“What?”
“You haven’t looked away from her once in the last thirty minutes. Chill out.”
Grayson snickers and I shoot a glare in his direction. This fucker didn’t know what a smile was two days ago and now he’s mister fucking happy.
“Have you seen how much she’s drinking?” I ask the boys. “They’re on their fourth shot of tequila.”
“So?” Noah asks, his lips turned up in amusement.
“So, it’s a recipe for disaster,” I argue.
“I dunno. I kind of enjoy watching them get messy,” Grayson adds with a smirk, and I shake my head at him.
“No. You like how wild Liv gets in the bedroom after a girls’ night,” Noah replies, drawing a laugh out of both of us.
“Liv doesn’t need alcohol for that, brother.” Grayson takes a long drink from his beer, his eyes alight with smug amusement.
“Damn. He’s got jokes now,” Noah hikes a thumb in Grayson’s direction. We all chuckle, but the smile quickly drops from Noah’s face, his eyes darkening as he frowns toward the bar.
I follow his gaze to my sister, who has her arms wrapped around Justin Thompson’s neck as she smiles up at him like he hung the moon.
His brother, Sam is stood beside him, attempting to say something to Liv but she keeps her eyes firmly on Grayson as she lifts her hand and flips the fucker off.
Grayson chuckles, sending her a wink as he relaxes back in his chair.
My teeth grind as another man makes himself known. Dressed in a white button down and khaki slacks, he steps forward, running a hand over his perfectly coifed hair.
“Is that mysophobia Michael?” Noah asks in surprise as he squints at the newcomer, but I don’t answer him.
Because yes, it is. Only now, the shy, easily disgusted boy that was afraid of germs is nowhere to be found as he smiles down at my wife.
He holds his hand out as he introduces himself. Daisy’s eyes flick between his hand and his face, her smile polite and reserved despite the alcohol flowing through her, before she places hers in his.
I watch from over the rim of my glass as they shake and then, to my horror, Michael brings her hand to his mouth, placing a kiss there.
Daisy’s eyes widen in alarm before finally finding mine for the first time all evening. They travel the length of me, the alarm quickly morphing into full blown panic as she gives me a slight shake of her head, telling me no.
But it’s too late. I’m already moving.
Her brow creases as she watches me approach, obviously expecting to find anger in my expression.
She won’t.
My smile is calculated and full of challenge as I come to a stop next to her, not sparing a glance at the man still holding her fucking hand.
Without even thinking about it, I push her hair behind her ear, tilt her chin up with my thumb and forefinger and bring my lips to hers.
Daisy freezes for barely a second before her body relaxes and she falls into the kiss, her lips part, tongue darting out and tangling with mine.
Her eyes fall closed and a soft moan vibrates in the back of her throat, sending a jolt of pure satisfaction through me as I claim her right there in front of everyone.
It’s her that pulls back first, blinking up at me in a daze. Her eyes are laced with confusion as she wipes at her lips and sucks in a shaky breath.
I turn to the prick next to us, holding my hand out. “Michael. Good to see you again. I see you’ve met my wife?” I gesture at Daisy.
His face drops and he stutters as he shakes my hand quickly. “K-Killian. I didn’t realise you were married.”
“What, no kiss for me?” I ask, my tone laced with sarcasm.
He laughs nervously, as he reaches behind himself, into his back pocket and would you look at that… produces a travel size bottle of hand sanitiser.
Daisy brings her drink to her lips at that very moment, and I watch out of the corner of my eye, counting to three in my head.
One.
Two.
Three.
The proverbial penny drops. Her eyes widen in realisation, and she begins to choke on the fruity liquid, alcohol spraying from her mouth and soaking Michael in the process.
I bite my cheek to hold back the howl of laughter trying to escape me.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Daisy quickly says, grabbing a handful of napkins off the bar and begins dabbing at the wetness on his shirt.
Well, that just won’t do.
My hand wraps around her wrist, halting her movements as I take the napkins from her and hold them out for the now very green Michael to take. “He can manage, angel.”
Her eyes snap up to mine, wide and full of anger, wiping the amusement off my face.
Oh shit. She’s pissed.
Without another word, Daisy snatches her jacket from the back of the chair next to her and pushes past me, her shoulder knocking against mine as she storms for the front doors.
I’m not letting her run away from me this time. Granted, that was probably a dick move, but there was no way in hell I was going to sit back and watch Michael of all people, hit on my wife right in front of me.
Daisy may have mentioned filing for a divorce, but until she does, that is exactly what she is: my wife.
And if I have it my way, she’ll remain that way for the rest of our lives.
Pushing through the front doors of The Dusty Boot, I’m immediately hit in the face with torrential rain. It lashes against my skin, falling like a sheet and making it hard for me to make out Daisy’s form as she marches across the gravel lot.
I jog after her. “Daisy!”
Her steps quicken, her head dipped low against the rainfall.
“Daisy!” I try again, getting closer, but still, she ignores me.
“Would you fucking stop?!” I shout over the white noise surrounding us and she freezes, her shoulders rising and falling at a rapid pace.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my chest heaving from the short run across the parking lot, reminding me I should quit smoking.
Daisy whirls on me, her curly hair hanging limp around her face from the rain. “What the hell were you thinking, Killian? You don’t get to kiss me like that and then humiliate me in front of everyone.”
“I didn’t mean to humiliate you, Daisy.”
“Well, you did!” she yells, her arms spread wide. “Why would you kiss me, Killian? You’ve barely spoken to me in weeks. You’ve walked out on me twice. And then you see another man talking to me and you what? Think you can come along and stake your claim?”
I take a slow step toward her. “He was hitting on you.”
“So fucking what?”
I narrow my eyes. “So what? You are my wife, Daisy! That’s fucking what! You think I’m just going to sit there and watch someone try and take what’s mine? Not a fucking chance, angel.”
Her teeth chatter as a shiver runs through her and she pulls her denim jacket tighter around her light pink sun dress. Our clothes are soaked through now and droplets of rain roll down my face, but I don’t move.
Daisy looks around helplessly. “I haven’t been your wife for a long time, Killian. We just haven’t made it official yet.”
“And we fucking won’t be!” I snap back, closing the space between us. “You wanna send me divorce papers? Go for it. But I’ll send them right back every single time.”
She shakes her head, blowing out an exasperated breath as she tugs on the roots of her hair. “I don’t know what you want from me. I’m trying to let you go, Kill. I’m trying to do the right thing here.” She gestures between us. “This is me letting you go. You need to do the same.”
Panic squeezes my lungs as she turns on her heel again and begins walking toward town. She’s dismissing me. Giving me permission to move on. I don’t fucking want it.
What I want is her, goddammit.
“Do you love me?” I call out desperately.
Daisy’s steps falter. Her head falls. And her shoulders shake.
I step behind her, my front to her back. “Do you love me? Yes or no.”
Our heavy breathing can barely be heard over the sound of rain bouncing off the vehicles surrounding us. The noise from the bar is nothing but a hum in the distance. I soak in the warmth from her body as I lean in and do the very thing my body has craved from the moment she walked into the bar.
I move her wet hair off her shoulder, tucking it behind her ear, bringing my mouth close to it. “Yes or no, angel?”
Another, different type of shiver wracks through her. Goosebumps litter her neck. And her shoulders drop with her breathy exhale. “Yes.”
My eyes fall closed in relief, my lungs release and the final piece slots into place as a single word flashes in my mind.
Finally.