22. Isla
ISLA
The elevator ride to Killian's apartment is so quiet it almost hurts. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable. It’s just…full. As if every word we could possibly say got left behind somewhere between the podium and the parking lot.
My fingers are still wrapped around the bracelet on my wrist. The one Killian gave me before we left for the gala. The one I've touched so many times tonight that the tiny baseball charm feels warm against my skin.
It’s beautiful and more meaningful than any gift I’ve ever been given.
Killian stands beside me with one hand shoved into his pocket and the other resting lightly against my lower back.
He’s kept it there most of the night when given the chance.
Not in that possessive way, though I’m certain he would’ve staked his claim if he had needed to, but just as a reminder that he’s there.
A lifeline for me if I need it and a promise that I’m not alone.
His thumb traces small circles against my skin, the contact bringing me a sense of peace and calm. Contentment.
Like I’ve always belonged to Killian Haynes.
The elevator dings but neither of us moves immediately. For one strange second we're both staring at the doors like we've forgotten what happens next.
Then Killian exhales a shaky breath. The kind most people would never notice, but I hear right away because I’ve spent months learning all the little ways anxiety shows up in him.
Like the tightness in his jaw or the restless tapping of his fingers even though they’re hidden inside his pocket. Or the way his shoulders creep toward his ears when he's carrying too much.
Tonight…right now, it's all of them.
"Hey," I say softly.
His eyes meet mine and God, the look in them steals the air from my lungs.
The man is so attractive I could cry just looking at him.
"You okay?" I ask.
A quiet laugh escapes him. "You just gave the speech of a lifetime and somehow you're worried about me?"
“Occupational hazard, I guess." I smile and turn into him, my hand on his chest. “It was a big night for both of us. Don’t think I don’t know that.”
The corner of his mouth lifts and then falls again, and suddenly I realize he looks just as emotionally exposed as I feel. Like we're both standing here without armor for the first time.
The elevator doors begin to close but Killian reaches out automatically to stop them.
“Come on. Let’s get you inside so I can help you out of that dress.
” His voice is low and rough, and it sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cool air of the hallway.
I nod, letting him guide me out of the elevator and down the corridor to his apartment.
We don’t speak as he unlocks the door, but the silence between us feels charged with something heady. Something that’s been building all night, maybe even longer.
The apartment is dark when we step inside, just the city lights filtering through the windows. Killian doesn’t bother with the overhead lights. Instead, he flips on a small lamp in the corner that casts everything in a warm, golden glow.
“Come here,” he urges, turning to face me.
I move into his space willingly, drawn by the intensity in his eyes.
His hands find my waist, fingers splaying across the teal fabric of my dress.
“You were incredible tonight,” he says, his voice barely audible.
“The way you stood up there and told your story...I’ve never been more in awe of anyone.
You should be so damn proud of yourself. ”
My heart swells at his words. “I couldn’t have done it without you there, Kill.”
He shakes his head slightly. “That’s not true. You’re the strongest person I know, Isla, and you could’ve done it a thousand times over all by yourself. You had it in you the whole time.”
The way he says my name—like it’s something precious—makes my heart swell. I reach up and trace the line of his jaw, feeling the stubble beneath my fingertips.
“I meant what I said about you being there for me. You make me feel safe, Killian. You make me feel like I can be brave.”
Something shifts in his expression; a vulnerability I’ve seen glimpses of before. His hands tighten on my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies are flush against each other. I can feel his heart hammering against his ribs.
“What is it?”
“I need to tell you something,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “Something I’ve been trying to find the right moment for all night.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Okay.”
Killian takes a deep breath. “Isla, I—” He stops, swallows hard. “Fuck, I practiced this in my head a hundred times.”
“It’s okay.” I shake my head gently. “You don’t have to—”
“I love you.”
The words hang in the air between us, simple and vulnerable in their honesty. I feel them settle into my bones, warming places I didn’t know were cold.
“I love you, Isla,” he repeats, his voice steadier now.
“And I know this wasn’t part of the deal.
I know we said no feelings, no complications.
But I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t pretend that what I feel for you is anything less than the most real thing I’ve ever felt.
” His voice cracks on the last word, and I watch his throat work as he swallows.
“I know you’re leaving. I know this isn’t what you signed up for.
But I couldn’t let you walk out of my life without telling you the truth. ”
My mouth opens but nothing comes out. The words are there—I love you too—right on the tip of my tongue, but fear has me paralyzed.
Because loving him means staying. It means commitment.
It means opening myself up to the possibility of losing him, and I don’t know if I can survive that kind of pain again.
“Killian...” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
His hands slide up to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t realize were falling. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says. “It’s okay. I just…needed you to know.”
I shake my head, trying to find the words that won’t come. “It’s just...”
“I know.” His eyes search mine, so full of understanding it takes my breath away.
“I know this is a lot. I know you didn’t ask for this.
In fact, you specifically told me not to let my feelings get involved, and I failed.
I failed, Coach, and I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry for falling in love with you, because fuck me, I couldn’t help it. You’re so damn easy to love.”
My heart is racing so fast I’m afraid it might burst from my chest. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to run, to put distance between us before this gets any more real. But my feet won’t move. My body won’t let me pull away from him.
“I…I don’t know how to do this,” I finally manage, the admission tumbling out raw and unfiltered.
“You don’t have to do anything, Isla. Not a damn thing okay? I just needed you to know. I needed to say it before…”
“Before what?” I ask, my gaze shifting between her eyes.
Killian takes a deep breath and then lowers his lips to mine.
The kiss is soft at first, a gentle press of lips that feels like a question.
I should pull away. I should tell him I need space, time to process what he’s just said.
But his hands are warm on my face, and his breath is sweet against my mouth, and I can’t make myself do anything but kiss him back.
His lips move against mine with a tenderness that makes my knees weak. This isn’t the desperate, hungry kissing from the hotel room or the teasing brushes we’ve shared in public. This is Killian pouring everything he just said into physical form, and I’m drowning in it.
My hands find his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. The words are right there, burning in my throat, but fear keeps them locked away, so instead, I deepen the kiss, trying to show him what I can’t say.
Killian seems to understand. His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him as the kiss deepens. One hand slides down my back, fingers finding the ties of my dress. With practiced ease, he begins to undo them, his movements slow and deliberate as if he’s giving me time to say no.
The teal fabric loosens around me as he works the ties with patient fingers. Maybe I should feel exposed. Maybe I should feel vulnerable, but I don’t. I’m in Killian’s arms and that’s the safest place I could ever be. He makes me feel protected and cherished.
He makes me feel loved.
When my dress finally falls away, pooling at my feet in a pile of silk, he steps back just enough to look at me, naked from the waist up. The golden lamplight paints his face in soft shadows, and his expression is one of such absolute reverence that my breath catches in my throat.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he stresses, his voice rough with emotion. His hands slide down to my hips, thumbs tracing the lace edge of my thong. “Every single part of you.”
His lips find the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, the contact sending shivers racing down my spine. I arch into him instinctively.
I bring a hand up to his hair, my fingers threading through the strands. “Killian.”
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he stresses, his voice thick with desire. “Every goddamn time I look at you, it’s like the first time all over again.”
My hands find the buttons of his shirt, fingers trembling as I work them open one by one.
His chest is warm beneath my palms, his heart beating against my touch.
When I push the fabric from his shoulders, it falls to the floor in a rustle of expensive cotton.
I trace my fingers over several of the tattoos spattered over his chest, each one a memory.
A moment in time he has etched into his body.
“I feel the same way, Killian.”