Chapter 30 （continuation）
Caroline
We step out of the shower when my skin starts to prune even though it feels so good under the cold water. We dry off and I wrap a towel around myself before going to my room to get dressed. And by dressed, I mean, I pull on a pair of tiny sleep shorts and a thin tank top.
Even though I sleep with Killian now, all my things are down here in my room. I tried sleeping in my bed after the first time we had sex and he practically carried me up to his room.
Am I upset, he asked. The wedding never felt like mine. None of it ever felt like mine. This feels like mine. This city, the friends I’ve made, this apartment, Killian.
How do I tell him that he’s always been mine? That even before this summer, a part of me has always belonged to him, and that in exchange, I always let myself believe that he belongs to me.
I’m not upset. I’m scared.
I’m scared the brightness of my eyes is going to dull.
I’m scared the bubble of happiness I live in is going to pop one day soon.
I’m scared our families are going to do everything to force us apart.
I’m scared that one day Killian is going to get bored of me and he’ll think I’m not worth the effort.
Perfectly normal things to worry about. It’s not like happiness is ever guaranteed. I should worry about the fact that I was supposed to get married today. Just because my family has stopped calling me doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten.
I wouldn’t be surprised to find out they’re also planning on suing me.
I step out of my room and see Killian in the kitchen, wearing another pair of shorts, wet hair slicked back. I go back into my room and grab my phone to quickly capture the view.
Killian sees me and gives me a flat look. “Caroline.”
“What? I need some eye candy. You look sexy like this.”
Killian rolls his eyes, though I don’t miss the way his ears turn red.
“You’re blushing,” I tease.
“It’s a hundred degrees here. I’m hot,” Killian says flatly.
“That’s precisely what I’m saying,” I say.
I sit down at the counter and notice his sketchbook next to me. He usually keeps it in his room because he sketches before bed. I’ve never peeked through it even though I’m very curious.
“I’ve drawn up some ideas for you,” he says, noticing my gaze. “Look through them.”
“For my tattoo?” I ask, excited. It feels like we talked about it forever ago.
“Yeah, towards the back.” He flips the sketchbook to where he wants it. I start looking through it while he gathers the ingredients for our lunch, his famous—only to me—cranberry sauce mushroom grilled cheese.
I flip through his sketches slowly. Mostly to give myself time to see them carefully, but also to admire his sheer talent.
These are just small sketches, mostly florals and the attention to details and precise work draws me in.
There are so many butterflies, small, large, some done in colors, others charcoal black.
I flip the page and there’s a sketch of a woman, half dark, half light, smoke and shadows, her eyes closed. She’s wearing a crown of flowers and the thorns dig into her skin, blood trickling down her face. The most haunting part of the sketch is that she’s smiling.
“Is this me?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Don’t take it too literally,” Killian says.
“So it’s me,” I confirm. I look back at the sketch, wondering if I should be upset that this is how he sees me. A woman of smoke and shadows wearing a crown which makes me bleed and I still smile through it.
“Caroline, it’s not that simple,” Killian says. He puts the pan aside and comes around the counter to me. Putting his fingers under my chin, he tilts my head back to meet his eyes.
“You’re only looking at it one way, but you don’t see the woman who protected her happiness the only way she knew how. You don’t see the strength it took to wear that crown, to bleed every day, and still keep every part of herself protected, safe, and hidden from everyone who wanted her to break.”
I swallow as tears prickle at the back of my eyes. “I told you I’m not that person.”
“And I said you don’t see yourself clearly.” Killian kisses my forehead and I close my eyes, reveling in his closeness. I don’t know why the fear doesn’t go away even when he stands in front of me like this. Even when he tells me that I belong to him.
Does everyone feel it? Does everyone go through life feeling slightly inadequate and wondering if we’re worth fighting for? No wonder we’re all exhausted.
“I want her,” I say, flipping the page and showing him the butterfly. She’s black, her body long and curved and wings in flight. The only color on her is the pale yellow around her wings.
“Somehow, I knew you’d pick that one,” Killian says.
“And look, the rain has stopped,” I say. “We can do it today.”
“Today?” The word is careful on his lips and I almost laugh. This man just fucked me into a couch on what would have been my wedding day to this brother. My pussy throbs at the memory of him thrusting into me, face hovering over mine as he told me that I will always be his.
“We don’t have anything else going on,” I point out. “We can cross this off the list.”
“Are you sure you want to do it today?” Killian asks.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to sue you if I wake up and have regrets,” I say, patting his cheek.
“Can you put that in writing? I’m not sure I trust a lawyer.” Killian narrows his eyes playfully and I giggle, pushing him back to the stove.
“Please finish making our lunch so I can get my tattoo!”
I take one last look at the image of me he’s drawn before closing the sketchbook.
“Oh my god, this is the best thing I’ve ever felt,” I moan.
Killian gives me a dry look. “It’s just air conditioning.”
“Exactly,” I say.
I’m standing in the middle of Black Ember Ink, my hair tossed up into a messy, lopsided bun to keep it off my neck. The rain has only made the humidity worse. I can feel the heat sticking to my skin.
“You’re sure about this?” Killian asks again.
“I am, but if you’re not I can always ask Eve to do it,” I say.
Instead of replying, Killian shoots me a glare. I stick my tongue out at him like a four year old. How dare he imply that I’m not in my senses?
“I thought you’d like a tattooed girl,” I muse, placing my hands on my hips.
“I like you. With or without tattoos,” he says simply.
I place my arms on the counter and lean over until our heads almost bump. “I’ll be ten times hotter with a tattoo.”
“How? Are tattoos going to change who you are?”
I wrinkle my nose, lowering my head further. Our heads rest against each other. My eyes are trained on his hands as he draws the butterfly from his sketchbook onto a piece of translucent paper.
“I can’t believe you just said I have a great personality. That’s the oldest brush off,” I say.
Killian lifts only his eyes to meet mine. “I think we both know you’re not getting away from me that easily.”
My heart flutters in my chest. We’re so close I can count his eyelashes.
“What if I run away?” I ask in a low voice.
The corner of his mouth tilts up, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Try it. Let’s see how far you get before I find you.”
“You’re obsessed with me,” I tease.
His grin is wolfish. “Now you’re getting it.”
My heart feels like it’s about to explode out of my chest. Suffice it to say, I’ve never thought anyone, let alone Killian York, will be obsessed with me.
Sweet old Caroline Sinclair who does everything that’s expected of her.
Except that’s not me anymore, is it? I broke that cycle when I left, and now I’m in charge of my decisions.
“Why do you call me butterfly?” I ask, my eyes dropping to the sketch between us. It’s odd that he drew so many butterflies for me.
“It’s chaos theory,” Killian says.
I tilt my head in confusion. I’ve heard of the chaos theory. I’m not sure how that connects here.
“The butterfly effect is a known concept of the chaos theory,” Killian explains. “The idea that something as simple as the flapping of a butterfly’s wings can lead to chaotic disturbances.”
I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.
“I’m not chaotic,” I say.
Killian looks at me with disbelief. “Butterfly. You’re the most chaotic. You flapped your wings and look what happened. This isn’t the first time, either. You’ve caused chaos in my life since we were kids.”
I pout, not liking this at all. I’ve never wanted to cause chaos in his life. Killian tilts his head, sucking my lips into his mouth and biting gently.
“If it makes you feel better, I like you making my life chaotic.”
I sniff, twisting my mouth to the side. “It makes me feel slightly better.”
With a soft laugh, he kisses my cheek before going back to the sketch.
I rest my chin on my hand as I watch him work.
The design doesn’t look complicated, but Killian is giving it great care.
I love watching him work. There’s this intensity behind his eyes when he focuses on the canvas.
The same kind of intensity he has when he looks at me, sometimes.
Like I’m the sole focus of his attention.
“I’ve never seen you do that before,” I say, nodding toward the translucent paper and the sketch he’s making.
“I never do this,” Killian replies.
“Don’t you have to do it for everyone you tattoo? Isn’t it the same process?”
“I don’t draw for my clients,” Killian says. He straightens when the design is fully sketched.
“I’m so confused,” I say.
Taking my hand, he leads me back to his station. I sit down on the chair while Killian sets up his table. He doesn’t say anything until he sits down on the stool and rolls it close to me. I lay my arm on the raised table between us.
“I don’t put my art on people, Caroline,” he says. “I don’t even sketch the designs they bring me.”
“Why not?”