9. Felix
FELIX
Eden : how’s your head?
I settle on the couch, my feet on the coffee table, and open our text thread.
Felix : better
She reads the text right away, and the little bubbles appear as she answers.
Eden : that’s good
Eden : maybe you’re over the worst of it?
Felix : I think so
Eden : I still can’t believe you didn’t go to the school doctor and get checked out
Felix : I’m fine. It’s just a bump on the head
Eden : just a bump? Head injuries are serious! You only have one brain and you need to take care of it
Felix : I know, but I’m fine. I doubt I even have a concussion
Eden : Riiiight
Eden : cause it’s totally not concerning that you smashed your head into a brick wall hard enough you almost blacked out, lost a bunch of time, got so disoriented you didn’t know up from down, and spent an hour dry heaving on the floor of your bathroom
Felix : it’s actually a concrete wall covered with tiles, not brick
She sends me the unimpressed face emoji with the flat lines for eyes and a mouth.
Felix : and I’m sure most of that was from swallowing so much water, not from hitting my head
Eden : two things can be true
Eden : just be careful. I know you don’t like being babied so I’m trying to not smother you, but it’s hard when you’re not taking this seriously
Eden : and it’s not even just the head injury or almost drowning. Someone tried to kill you and I feel like I’m the only person freaking out over that
Felix : you’re not the only one freaking out
Felix : and I appreciate how much you care
Eden : that sounds placating
Eden : was it, or is that just me not reading text properly?
Felix : it wasn’t meant to be placating
Felix : I promise I’m taking all of this seriously, but I can’t spend the rest of the year locked up in my room and hiding. And I can’t keep skipping class without people asking questions
Eden : I know
Eden : just please be careful
Felix : I will, I promise
Eden : do you want to grab dinner in a bit? I have to meet with one of my TAs in an hour but I’ll be done by 7
Felix : not tonight. I’m going to take it easy and try to get to bed early again
Eden : yeah, that’s a good plan
Eden : ttyl
Felix : later
I exit out of my texts and put my phone on the cushion beside me.
This is the third day in a row I haven’t had a headache or felt any sort of eye strain after using my phone.
I haven’t tried reading or studying yet, but the more time that passes, the more it seems like the bulk of my symptoms were from almost drowning, not a concussion.
The bump on my head is almost gone, but the bruise is now a splotchy mess of deep purple, black, green, and yellow. Not even the best makeup in Eden’s impressive collection can cover that sucker up, and it’s easier to just avoid people than deal with the stares.
But the problem with hiding is that I don’t like being bored, and spending the last five days holed up in this room doing nothing more than napping, eating, and staring at the walls is driving me crazy.
And the thought of doing this until the bruise is completely gone is enough to make me want to rip my own skin off just to have something to do.
The only good thing is that Killian has made himself scarce since that first night, and I’ve mostly had the place to myself. I have no clue where he’s spending his nights, but it’s not in the room with me.
A strange feeling settles in my stomach.
It’s hot and angry, but a quiet sort of anger that ebbs and flows instead of hitting hard and fast. I have no idea what the hell is going on with me, but my brush with death has brought all my emotions to the surface, and it’s getting harder to shove them back where they belong.
Letting out a loud sigh, I slide down on the cushion and lean my head against the back of the couch, my eyes fixed unseeingly on a section of the ridiculous crown molding circling the room.
I need to find something to help me sleep at night, but all of my usual methods have failed epically over the past five days.
I’ve barely gotten more than a few hours, and most of that is broken up into twenty-minute blocks.
The lack of sleep is starting to fuck with me, and without my multiple daily naps, I’d be walking around the room like a zombie in a fever dream.
It’s been an age since things were this bad, and the longer this goes on, the more tenuous my grip on reality is going to get.
Being alone for days on end isn’t helping my mental state either, but being around people isn’t an option when I’m like this. I’m too volatile, and it’s pretty much impossible to rein in my anger when something sets it off.
Even Eden isn’t safe from my mood swings right now. I love her like a sister, but her well-meaning fussiness and mothering instincts would eventually trigger an outburst, and I’d end up saying things I’d never be able to take back.
The door to the room flies open, and it’s a testament to how mentally exhausted I am that I don’t even flinch as the handle smashes into the wall and instead just slide my gaze from the ceiling to Killian.
“Leave.”
“No,” I say, my mouth moving before I’ve even made the conscious decision to answer him.
He glowers at me, his entire body tense, and points at the door. “Now.”
“No,” I say calmly.
He sucks in a huge breath and holds it, his chest puffing out like a bullfrog and his cheeks going red. It’s a ridiculous look for him, and I snicker, fully aware that’s the absolute wrong thing to do, but I’m too tired to try and stop myself.
He blows out his breath through pursed lips, his chest and body deflating in a way that reminds me of when you let go of the neck of a balloon and let the air rush out.
That visual makes me snicker again, and I’m still smirking as he slams the door closed and stomps over to the couch.
“You think this is funny?” he demands, looming over me like an apex predator that just cornered his next meal.
“It’s a little funny,” I say innocently.
“Leave. Now.”
“Nope.” I make a show of settling on the couch and getting more comfortable. “This is my room too. You don’t get to just kick me out because you’re having a tantrum.”
“A tantrum?” His voice is eerily calm and even.
“What else would you call stomping into the room and almost putting the door through the wall from throwing it open so hard?”
His dark eyes flash with something I can’t read, almost like a spark or fire is momentarily lit behind them.
We lock gazes, and something akin to anxiety mixed with excitement tickles my chest as we get lost in a sort of staring contest.
Killian’s eyes are the most unusual shade of brown I’ve ever seen. They can shift from nearly black to almost amber, depending on his mood, and the tiny flecks of gold in them make his stare as magnetic as it is terrifying.
My eyes are a weird mix of blue and gray that just looks dull no matter what, but that doesn’t stop me from staring back at him or lifting the corner of my mouth to give him a little smirk.
“Are you trying to die?” he demands.
“Depends. Do you want to kill me?”
He blinks a few times, obviously taken aback by my answer, or maybe my attitude.
“I didn’t wake up this morning thinking it’s a great day for my stepbrother to shuffle me off this mortal coil, but you do you, bro.”
He flattens his mouth into a tight line and glares at me. His hands are at his sides, and I can see the muscles in his arms and shoulders quivering from how tight he’s fisting them.
“Get up,” he growls.
Sighing theatrically, I make a big show of putting my feet on the floor and standing. “Now what?”
“Now get the fuck out before I forget you’re family and fucking destroy you.” He grins, but considering he’s still glaring at me like he really wants to make good on his threats, he just looks even more deranged and dangerous. “I’ll do it. And I won’t even feel bad.”
Instead of scaring me or setting off my usual defense of shutting down, more of that weird excitement fills my chest.
“Go ahead,” I say, my voice neutral and unbothered.
A flicker of surprise breaks through his rage.
“Do it.” I lift my hands in front of me like I’m showing him I don’t have a weapon. “Fucking destroy me.”
Killian’s growl is loud and wild and the most exhilarating sound I’ve ever heard, and I’m smiling as he grabs the front of my shirt and hauls me against his body so hard we both rock on our feet.
The impact is jarring enough to partially knock the breath from me, but even that can’t take away from the little thrill that dances up my spine at the move.
What the fuck is wrong with me that having my stepbrother put hands on me feels good? Why is my first instinct to metaphorically poke the bear when I’ve seen exactly what Killian is capable of?
The summer after he started at Silvercrest, I watched him and the twins corner one of the staff behind the pool house and beat him to a bloody pulp after they discovered he was feeding information to one of his dad’s rivals.
The sounds of him begging for mercy and choking on his own blood as Jax held him down so Jace could cut off one of his fingers still echo in my mind when I think about that night.
So do the cold, impassive expressions on their faces when Killian put a bullet between his eyes.
Killian is dangerous, and I have no doubt he’d happily tear me limb from limb if I push him too far, but for some messed up reason, that excites me like nothing else ever has.
“What’s wrong, big brother?” I ask, not bothering to cover up the wheeze in my voice from almost being winded. “Did you forget how to use your words with all those big feelings you’ve got going on?”
He lets out another growl that’s more animal than human and throws me back onto the couch so hard my feet lift right off the ground.
I crash down on the cushions, landing at an angle so I’m sort of lying across it with one leg hanging off and the other stretched over the arm.