Chapter 11 #2
I roll my lips between my teeth, trying hard to control my laughter at his ridiculous train of thought. Doesn’t he realize that, as a woman, I’m always aware of my surroundings?
“According to Lilith, I’m living with the serial killer,” I say.
“More proof that you have zero sense of security.”
That may be true. But I also stabbed his brother in the ass, so it’s not like I don’t know how to defend myself. Not that he needs that information. A girl’s got to have some secrets.
“Wait, is that what’s happening here? Are you grinding your victims and mixing them into your paint?” I ask. “Is that why your music is so loud?”
The look of horror on Killian’s face makes it hard for me to not laugh.
“Where do you come up with these horrific things?”
“True crime.”
“I’m starting to think I need to be more worried about my safety than yours,” he says.
Turning around, he walks to the fridge and grabs the half empty bottle of wine from last night. He’s actually not a big drinker from what I’ve noticed. Last night was the first time we had a drink with dinner.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything to you,” I reply.
He looks at me from under his lashes as he pours wine into the glasses. “That’s exactly what a murderer would say before luring their victim into a false sense of security.”
“Come on, you’ve known me since we were kids. Have I ever done anything to make you suspicious of me?”
I grab the veggies from the fridge, deliberately ignoring the glaring reminder of my wedding on the door. I barely notice it anymore. If it were up to me, I’d rip it into pieces and throw it in the trash.
I should tell Killian the wedding isn’t happening. But every time I open my mouth, the words don’t come out. I know he won’t care if the wedding is off. If anything, he’ll be happy for me. Still, something stops me every time.
“There was that time you locked Beckett in a room,” he replies.
I turn to face him, closing the fridge door and putting the vegetables by the sink.
“He deserved it. He was annoying me.”
“He annoys everyone.”
Without needing to be told, Killian starts washing the vegetables, setting them aside to dry.
I’ve noticed he’s very handy. If I’m ever in the kitchen, even if it’s to make myself coffee or a snack, he immediately comes and takes over.
He’s either very particular about his space or he just wants to help.
I’m not sure which.
Before the conversation can turn to Beckett, I change it.
“I’m going to cook,” I tell him.
Killian stops in the middle of grabbing the butcher block chopping board and looks at me. “I’m only trying to help.”
I scoff. “You always try to help and then completely take over. I can make dinner by myself.”
“Then I’ll assist,” he insists.
He sets the board down and starts chopping the vegetables.
“I don’t need your assistance.”
“Yes, you do. You just don’t know it yet.”
What kind of nonsensical logic is that? I cross my arms, glaring at him from across the island. I’m one second away from throwing a fit like a toddler and walking off into my room. Never mind that I’m an adult woman in her late twenties.
“I can do it myself,” I say through gritted teeth.
He doesn’t even bother looking up from the vegetables. “I never said you can’t. I’m only helping.”
I walk around the island until I’m next to him, watching the way he’s cutting the vegetables. I don’t know why I’m complaining. Most women would love a man who offers to assist in anything without being asked. And watching Killian cut vegetables is really something.
He’s wearing a black t-shirt, the sleeves a little tight around his biceps. His arms are exposed, displaying his many tattoos. His muscles shift as he chops, the veins popping in an all too distracting manner, the rings he wears way too attractive.
For a second, I forget what we’re talking about because the only thought in my depraved mind is what it will feel like to run my hands over his arms and feel his muscles. Will the metal of the rings be cool against my skin or will it be heated from his?
I look away before I drool all over him.
I’ve lost my mind.
“I don’t need your help,” I say, my voice a little thin. “And don’t think I don’t notice that you’re talking me into circles.”
With a sigh, he sets down the knife and turns to face me fully. His blue eyes are a stark contrast against his all black attire. They set my heart racing.
“Caroline, I know you don’t need my help, but I’m not going anywhere,” he says.
“You can slice a finger, you can burn yourself, the chances of you getting hurt are too high. I’m not going to stand by and let that happen.
Even at the risk of making you angry, I’m not going to stop caring and making sure you’re safe. Okay?”
His words leave me speechless. I’m not so fragile or incompetent in a kitchen that I’ll hurt myself.
A part of me feels like I should fight him and demand my independence, to be treated like an adult, and not a child.
But the part of me that’s never been cared for before?
She tells me to shut the fuck up and live in the moment.
“Okay,” I whisper.
With a nod, he turns back to the vegetables, and I lean back against the island next to him, sipping my wine. If he insists on taking over, I may as well enjoy the show.
“Lilith showed me all the major spots around the neighborhood,” I tell him.
He hums around his breath. “Are you thinking of roaming around?”
I shrug. “Maybe. I should go out and make friends.”
His chopping pauses for an imperceptible moment. It’s a moment’s pause before he starts again but I notice it because I’m standing right next to him.
“Eve and Lilith are your friends,” he says. “They already like you more than they like me.”
“I know, but I mean more friends. I want to go out there and meet people.”
The slicing and dicing stops. Slowly, Killian looks up at me, blue eyes hooking into me like an anchor and keeping me in place.
“What kind of people, Caroline?” His voice is low, almost a growl.
My stomach flips.
“Just people,” I say. “Out there in the world.” I wave towards the windows to indicate the world I’ve never had the chance to explore.
His arm brushes mine as he steps closer, bending down until he’s close enough that I can smell the hint of his aftershave.
“Are we talking about serial killers?” He whispers. “Will you bring a cult of serial killers here?”
Laughter bubbles up out of me at his ridiculous words and I giggle, suddenly forgetting his proximity to me.
Killian’s eyes soften, his mouth shifting into an almost smile.
Living with him is bringing back a lot of old memories.
Such as his inability to smile. Though, if I watch carefully, I can almost see one every now and then.
“I’m not going to bring serial killers here,” I tell him, still laughing. “You can’t trust them and I want to live long enough to see the world.”
“The world, huh?” He leans back, going back to his vegetables.
I walk to the cupboard and grab a box of crackers, the ones I hid there a couple of days ago. If I drink wine on an empty stomach, I’m going to wake up with a headache, even if it’s just one glass.
I bite into a cracker, brushing off the crumbs as they fall onto my top. I return to my spot next to Killian.
“If not the world, then at least a small portion of it,” I say, dipping my cracker into the wine.
“I’m sure you will,” Killian says.
I hum, not exactly sure if it will ever happen. The future is looking a little ambiguous right now. More clear than it used to be and still not clear enough. I feel unsettled.
“You can start with New York,” Killian adds.
I glance at him. “Oh, am I allowed to leave the apartment now?”
“Maybe. We’ll see how you behave,” he says.
I snort at that, raising my glass to drink my wine. Should I be suspicious he’s being so nice to me all of a sudden? Probably. I mean, he’s always nice, just a little grumpy.
“I bet you’d just love to keep me locked up in your tower with you,” I say.
This time, the knife doesn’t falter. It comes down hard on the chopping block, harder than necessary.
Killian’s grip on the handle tightens, the veins in his hand popping with the grip.
Am I being mean by not telling him I’m not engaged to Beckett anymore?
I’m living with him. We’re bickering all the time. It’s almost like---
No, don’t go there, Caroline. You know better than that.
“The company isn’t that bad,” Killian says eventually. “What were you going to make?”
I appreciate the change of topic. I take a seat at the island, letting him cook dinner for us while I tell him all the places Lilith showed me on our walk. Topics which are easier to digest and don’t have me questioning my whole life. As if I don’t do enough of that already.
Being with Killian is easy. I don’t have to pretend to be anyone other than who I am. He’s probably one of the few people who can tell when I’m being fake. And maybe that should scare me because it means he can see how hollow I really am.