Chapter 21
Caroline
We’re standing outside the arena when Killian gets a text. He sighs as he reads it, like he’s being asked to do something he really doesn’t want to do.
“Have you ever been to a pub?” He looks at me in question.
“Only hooligans go to pubs, Killian.”
He scoffs a laugh. “Let’s go be hooligans then.”
Reaching for my hand, he starts to pull me down the street, but I stay rooted to my spot. He turns back with a frown.
“We don’t have to do that,” I say. “We’ve already done this.”
I wave my hand behind me at the arena. I’m not a sports convert by any means and I watched the whole game like one watches a movie, but I did enjoy myself. I can’t say the same about Killian. I don’t want to put him through another thing he’s going to hate.
“Consider it a two-for-one,” Killian says. “You get to experience a pub and meet a bunch of hockey players.”
I’m not going to lie, I’m intrigued. “But you’re going to hate every second of it.”
With a sigh, Killian tugs on my hand and I reluctantly start walking. Now we’re just walking down the street holding hands like it’s just something we do all the time.
“I’ll be fine,” Killian says.
I’m not convinced, though I don’t have much of a choice since he’s already leading us in the direction of the pub.
There’s scaffolding along the sidewalks which makes walking next to each other impossible.
Garbage bags lined up in some places. Hot dog stands and people selling their wares.
The car horns, ambulance and police sirens, pedestrians shouting at drivers when they turn too sharply. New York engages all your senses.
Then there’s Killian. He’s moving along with confidence, sidestepping people easily, knowing when a car isn’t going to stop from turning. He belongs here.
“You’re very quiet,” Killian says.
“I’m just focusing on walking,” I say.
He glances at me like he doesn’t believe me. Pretty soon, we’re at the pub and I stare up at it in surprise.
“This is the pub?” I ask. It looks way too fancy for what I was expecting, which was a hole in the wall dingy pub.
“This is it,” he says.
“I’m nervous. What if they don’t like me?” I look through the windows and the whole place is so crowded.
“What’s not to like?” Killian asks. “And you’re likely never going to see any of them again.”
That offers me some comfort. I’m more nervous about acting normal than I am about the fact that they won’t like me. I’ve only been around a certain sect of people in my life.
“You know in coming of age movies when the needy girl goes to college and ends up attending a frat party where she’s suddenly surrounded by jocks and she has no idea what to do?” I ask. “Yeah, that’s how I feel right now.”
Killian puts a finger under my chin, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. “Do you think I’m going to take you to meet a bunch of jocks if I don’t know they’re good people?”
“No,” I say with a sigh. “Also, you would be the cool guy who’s friends with everyone and that will ultimately confuse me because how can someone be that cool, and that grumpy.”
He pulls me towards the door and I have to follow because it’s not like I can go home on my own. If it was daytime, I might have risked it.
“You’re taking advantage of the fact that I can’t find my way back home,” I tell him, as we enter the loud bar.
“How quickly you’ve figured out my secret,” Killian replies acerbically.
The screens hanging above the bar are playing highlights from the game we just left, from what I can tell. It’s dim in that inviting, mysterious way and looks clean from what I can tell. Unless the darkness is hiding all the dirt and body fluids.
“Are you inspecting the floors?” Killian asks.
I shift my eyes from the floor to him and his arched eyebrows.
“What? No! I would never do that.” I’m trying to be indignant. I’m sure I’m failing.
He rolls his eyes and looks away, though I’m sure I see a hint of a smile. “The floors are clean.”
“How do you know?”
“Why don’t we flag down the manager and you can ask them?”
“Actually, yes, I would like to see a full cleaning schedule for the place,” I say primly.
Someone walks by next to me and I immediately sidle into Killian, grabbing his arm to keep myself safe. A part of me realizes I’m being neurotic just so we don’t have to stay here.
“There he is,” Killian says. I follow his gaze to the same player he’d pointed out earlier, the one who is his client.
He’s with a group of other men, his teammates I assume.
Some of them look kind of familiar. A tall woman with curly red hair walks up next to him and he smiles, wrapping his arm around her. They look nice, normal.
“Wait,” I say, looking at them more closely. “Is that Lavinia Callahan? The Olympic medalist?”
“I guess.” Killian shrugs like he couldn’t care less. “How do you know that?”
“I have social media,” I say. “Granted, I had no idea she played hockey until I accidentally stumbled across her on social media, and I listened to her podcast to cleanse my mind of the incels.”
I pull him through the crowd.
They look up as we get closer and the hockey player frowns, his eyes going from me to Killian. When he sees who I’m with, his frown eases into a smile.
“Killian, glad you could make it.” They do that weird handshake, shoulder bump thing that men do when they greet each other.
“Caroline, this is Roman Maddox,” Killian introduces.
“Nice to meet you,” I say. Up close, he’s downright pretty, with thick dark hair and hazel eyes.
But my eyes drift past him to Lavinia Callahan.
As a girl with semi straight hair, which can’t hold a curl, I’m fascinated by hers.
It’s so curly and the volume is something I can’t achieve even in my dreams. Add to that her sheer talent, and I feel like a potato.
She smiles at me softly. “Hi, I’m Lavinia. I think I saw you at the game. I’m absolutely jealous of the fact that you can walk comfortably in those.”
Our eyes drop down to my red bottom So Kate’s.
“I’ve been walking in these since I was a teenager,” I say. “At this point wearing normal shoes feels weird.”
Lavinia laughs lightly. “I kind of get what you mean. I’ve been in skates since I was a baby so I expect to glide everywhere. Do you want to come with me and get a drink?”
“Yes, sure.” Without a second thought I hand my purse to Killian, and walk off with Lavinia.
As we’re halfway through the pub I realize that what I did was very couple-y.
Handing your purse off to a man is something you do when you’re in a relationship with them or you’re related to him in some way.
I pause to look behind me and notice that Killian is already situated. My purse is resting on top of the table in front of him. I guess I’m the only one who thinks it’s weird.
“Did you enjoy the game?” Lavinia asks.
“It was very interesting, but I’m not sure I’m the sports watching kind,” I reply. Although I probably shouldn’t say that to a former hockey player.
“Did Killian bring you with him, then?”
“He did, because he thought I would like it, not because he likes it,” I explain.
We get to the bar, and I’m not sure what to order. Everyone around us is drinking beer except beer is only acceptable to drink while in Germany. There are so many things I have to unlearn. Lavinia orders herself a lavender lemonade, which contains a fair amount of gin, so I do the same.
“If you ever need someone to explain hockey to you, I’m your girl,” she says.
“I listen to your podcast and I love your attempts at explaining hockey to your best friend,” I say.
Lavinia laughs, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Jules hates it when I do that.”
As we continue to talk, I glance occasionally at Killian.
He’s sitting with the team, but he’s not providing a lot conversationally.
Which doesn’t surprise me in the least. This man was at a party and he looked like he had been forced there against his will, and he has the same look on his face now.
I still can’t believe he’s putting himself through this just for me.
Maybe it’s not even a big deal. Maybe it’s just what people do.
And it’s only a big deal to me because I’ve never had someone be selfless with me.
I’m the only one who’s ever been expected to do what others want.
To put their comfort, wants, and needs above mine.
I’ve sat through countless dinner parties without having anyone to talk to because it’s what my parents expected and it’s what Beckett wanted.
Someone thinking of my likes and dislikes is a strange concept.
“How long have you two been together?” Lavinia asks.
My head whips around to look at her, my eyes widen in shock. “I beg your pardon?”
Her eyes move between me and Killian. “You and Killian. I assume you’re together.”
At the horror stricken look on my face her cheeks turn red with embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she says in a rush.
Leaning and close to her, I whisper, “You can tell? Am I being obvious? We’re not together, but can you tell that I want something more?”
“I mean, the two of you keep glancing at each other when neither of you is looking so I guess he feels the same way?” Lavinia says.
I look at him, and when I do, he’s looking right at me. Our eyes hold across the crowded room for a long moment and it’s like everyone disappears. How does he have the power to ground me and make me feel like I’m flying? When he looks at me like that, I feel like I’m the only woman in the world.
Lavinia’s words circle in my mind when I’m out running with Lilith the next morning. Running is not my exercise of choice but I was feeling restless inside the apartment. Killian woke up early to paint because I could hear music from the studio.