Killian
Through the windows in my studio, the sky is a navy blue shot through with purple and pink.
The Manhattan bridge is stacked with cars, red and yellow lights glowing in the semi-darkness.
Below, the streets are empty. It’s incredibly quiet and peaceful and yet, there’s a strange restlessness inside me.
I haven’t been able to sleep, so I’m in the studio trying to paint.
The only thing I’ve been able to paint is slender shoulders, a graceful neck, long dark hair twisting around in waves.
It doesn't take a genius to guess who I’ve been trying to paint, very unsuccessfully.
I take the canvas off the easel and put it away with the rest of unfinished canvases.
Caroline is asleep, and will probably stay asleep for a good while.
There are so many questions I want to ask, so much clarification I need.
The fire in her eyes last night made it clear she’s definitely not backing down from her decision.
Something else must have happened. It’s not as simple as cheating.
Caroline’s patience broke. Enough to fucking stab Beckett, and enough to leave the West Coast and come here. Just five years ago, she’d made it seem like she was never going to leave even though I’d warned her that if she stayed, she’s going to ruin her life.
What the fuck did they do to her in those five years?
Shoving a hand through my hair, I push back from the window and walk out of the studio and into my room. I quickly change into running shorts and a T-shirt because I need to move.
Caroline’s bedroom door is closed, no noise coming from the other side. I know she won’t wake up but I still leave her a note and stick it to the fridge, right where her wedding card was until last night.
Her words from last night echo in my ear.
In case you don’t want to admit it to yourself yet, there’s not going to be a wedding.
I lock the door behind me and run down the stairs, exiting through the side stairwell. There’s a slight chill in the air which makes me glad I grabbed a hoodie. Putting on my headphones, I turn on the true crime podcast Eve has me listening to.
Though as I start my run, my mind immediately drifts back to Caroline.
She guessed it right. It’s definitely something I didn’t want to admit to myself.
Not because I didn’t expect it or because I want her to have a happy relationship with Beckett.
Because I didn’t want to hope. I didn’t want to give myself the chance to imagine a life where Caroline stayed in New York.
To be honest, I still don’t. What the fuck am I doing thinking that? Even if she doesn’t go back to California, there are too many complications between us to ever venture beyond what we have right now. Not that Caroline wants to trade one brother for another.
At the end of the day, I’m a York and while I might have worked hard to be nothing like them, I still have some family traits. Like the need to always be on top, to possess, to never lose.
I’ve never been good at letting things go until they become unhealthy or I completely ruin them.
In fifth grade, I had a friend whose family moved to another state halfway through the school year and I’m not sure I’ve gotten over it or forgiven him.
I can eat the same food over and over again without getting bored for months until one day even the name of said food will make me never want to eat again.
I survived law school out of sheer will and because I wanted to prove to my father that I can be better than him—I graduated with higher marks from his alma mater.
But I never stopped painting. Painting is as much an obsession as it is a release.
The only time I feel like I can be myself.
I might not be able to create right now, but I’m not tired of it. I’m not sure I’ll ever be.
There’s only ever been one other thing I’ve obsessed over. The sweetest little angel. The one everyone said belonged to Beckett even before she could decide for herself, like she’s an object, and not a person. So many times my parents warned me not to indulge her, to keep my distance.
Which is exactly what I did. Not for them; to let her choose.
Now she’s at my apartment and I’m out here trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to do with her. What if she actually lets me paint her?
Shit, maybe I was drunk when I asked her that. I’d only had one beer, but I don’t usually drink. Am I that much of a lightweight?
I enter Brooklyn Bridge Park and stop on the boardwalk, looking at Lower Manhattan across the river.
There’s no one here at this hour so I sit down on the bench to watch the sunrise across the horizon.
It’s not something I indulge in usually.
The sun rises, the sun sets, and the sky is beautiful.
It’s all the same every day. Even the artist in me doesn’t appreciate the displays put on by nature.
I should bring Caroline here. I already know she’ll love it. She wants to see the city and before she decides to explore on her own, I’ll take her.
With that thought in mind, I stand up and walk back to the apartment, pausing to get coffees and breakfast from Beanie’s.
Luke is behind the counter and when he sees me, he automatically looks behind me as if expecting to see someone else.
I glare at him the whole time he’s preparing our coffees.
He’s met her once. I’ve known her her whole life.
Caroline is still asleep when I return to the apartment and I set her coffee on the counter with her breakfast pastry. I’m about to head off to shower when my phone rings. I frown at the name on the screen before I swipe to answer.
“Are you dying?” I ask.
“I was going to leave a voicemail. Who answers their phone before six?”
“Who calls someone before six?” I ask.
“This is the only time I have available to call.”
“Roman, I’ve been your tattoos artist since I was an apprentice and you’ve never once called me. It’s how our friendship has survived so many years.”
Roman laughs and I find that stranger than the phone call. I’ve gotten to know my clients pretty well over the years and the only reason I can call Roman Maddox a friend is because the man doesn’t talk. I’ve definitely never heard him laugh.
“Right, okay. I was calling to ask a favor,” he says.
“Go ahead.”
“The guys want to get matching tattoos when we win the playoffs. I know you’re probably booked out, but any chance you’ll be able to fit us?” Roman asks. It’s followed by a thud and a feminine laugh. “Lavinia also wants to get a tattoo and I definitely don’t trust anyone else to give her one.”
“I got you covered, don’t worry,” I say. “It might have to be when the shop is closed.”
“That’s great, thank you.”
The playoffs are far away and there’s no guarantee they’ll win, but I confirm a date and add it to my schedule anyway. Putting my phone on the table, I see Caroline’s phone lying face down where she left it last night. A card is tucked into the clear cover.
Aiden Fairchild. Blackwood, Pierce & Caldwell.
It’s a New York number, so it’s someone she met at the party last night. The man Lilith introduced her to? He’s the only one Caroline talked to long enough to get his number.
Why did she get his number?
The only person who can answer that question is asleep right now. Maybe she needs legal assistance? I’m still not over the fact she stabbed my brother. I’ve always believed Caroline can do anything, but even I didn’t expect her to stab someone.
Caroline is standing in the kitchen drinking the coffee I brought for her by the time I come back down after my shower. I’m relieved and disappointed to see she’s wearing a fluffy pink robe over her nightclothes.
She squints at me while sipping her coffee. “I forgive you.”
“For what?” I ask.
“For being an asshat last night.”
I deserve that. “All it takes is coffee to earn your forgiveness?”
“Depends on the crime.” She takes a small bite of her breakfast sandwich and hums with satisfaction, eating with her eyes closed. She looks adorable, with her fluffy robe and hair twisted into a messy bun.
“Right, and being an asshat only requires coffee and a breakfast sandwich?”
The sun is fully out now, sparkling across the water. Off in the distance, two ferries are visible. Here, everything is quiet. It’s one of the reasons I love this apartment. You can feel like you’re part of the world while being completely cut off from it.
“It’s good coffee and a good breakfast sandwich,” Caroline emphasizes. The sunlight highlights her brown hair, making it lighter.
“I’m learning so much about you.”
She finally opens her eyes to look at me. “You’ve barely scratched the surface.”
I lean in towards her, holding her gaze. “What’s under the surface?”
A soft blush steals across her cheeks and she looks away, focusing on her sandwich. “You’ll find out if I deem you worthy.”
“And what do I have to do to be deemed worthy?” I should be smarter before asking such questions because Caroline’s lips tilt up into a winning smile, her eyes sparkling.
“I want to see New York,” she says.
I look at her flatly. “Okay…”
“I want you to show me New York,” she insists.
I scoff.
Caroline sighs. “I can just ask Wes. He did offer last night.”
She really knows how to play me. “I’ll do it.”
“Really?” Her eyes light up with delight.
“Yeah, really.”
“You’re sure?” Her lashes flutter as she blinks, still not believing me.
I don’t blame her. I’ve been behaving rashly since she’s been here.
There are a lot of emotions associated with her, with my family, that her presence has brought back.
Sometimes no matter how hard we try we can’t control how we react when we’re pushed against the wall.
Which is how I feel every time my family is involved.
I smile softly. “I’m sure, butterfly.”
Caroline pauses mid sip, her smile dropping. The nickname slipped out unexpectedly.
“You haven’t called me that in a very long time,” she says