23. Killian #2
I want to ask her what she’s thinking, but I don’t. Instead, I watch her profile as she takes another bite, the way her freckles catch the sunlight filtering through the oak leaves, the slight unevenness of her shoulders that most people wouldn’t notice but I’ve memorized like the back of my hand.
“Family’s important to me,” I say instead, keeping my voice casual. “Always has been.”
She nods, swallowing her bite. “I can tell. The way you all are with each other...” She gestures vaguely at my brothers scattered around the yard. “It’s nice.”
“Even when they’re being complete assholes?”
“Especially then.” She smiles, bumping her shoulder against mine. “It’s the Haynes way, isn’t it? Love disguised as torture?”
I laugh, surprised at how perfectly she’s nailed it. “Pretty much. We’re not exactly a Hallmark family.”
“Hallmark families are boring,” she says, her gaze following Bishop as he trips over his own feet trying to impress Mackenzie. “This is better. It’s…real.”
I set down my fork and look at her. There’s a wistfulness there that I’ve noticed before but never quite understood. Like she’s watching something she wants but doesn’t believe she can have.
“Hey,” I say softly, “You okay?”
She blinks. “Yeah. Just…thinking.”
“About?” I press gently, setting my plate aside.
She shrugs, tracking Bishop as he trips over his own feet again. “This is nice. All of you together like this. It reminds me of...” She trails off, her fingers playing with the bracelet I gave her.
“Of what?” I ask, nudging her knee with mine.
“Of what I used to have,” she says quietly. “Before.”
The word hangs between us, weighted with meaning. Before the accident. Before she lost her father. Before her life changed irrevocably.
“What’s your family like now?”
She shrugs her shoulders and picks at her burger bun.
“We used to be close. Happy. We used to do things together all the time. I have a brother but he moved out of state after Dad died and my mom…” she takes a deep breath, releasing a defeated sigh.
“She saw me through my recovery and now…well, I think in a way, she blames me for dad being gone.”
“It’s not your fault, Coach,” I remind her, wrapping my hand around hers. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah. I guess, but it doesn’t change the fact that my mom feels the way she does and that our family is forever changed because of what happened.”
My heart breaks for her. All Isla wants is to love and be loved. I see it in her face every day. I see it in the way she treats people…the team, my brothers. But she doesn’t think she deserves for that love to be reciprocated and that guts me.
“I’m sorry, Isla. I am.” I lace our fingers together. “But none of what happened to you means you have to live a life without love.” I gesture to the extended family seated around the yard. “You can have this too, you know. All of it.”
She looks at me, and something flickers across her features, hope, maybe. Or fear.
Or both.
“Can I?” she asks, and the vulnerability in her voice grabs at my soul.
“You’re already part of it,” I tell her, squeezing her hand. “The team loves you. My brothers love you.” I pause. “I love you.”
She swallows hard and her chin quivers. “Killian...”
“I know you’re not ready to say it back,” I continue, my thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. “And that’s okay. I just need you to know that this—” I gesture around us, at the team, at my brothers, at the life we’re building together “—is yours too, if you want it.”
She blinks rapidly, a single tear escaping down her cheek. “What happens when my flight assignment ends?” she asks. “What happens when I have to leave?”
The question hits me like a fastball to the gut. I’ve been trying not to think about it, trying to live in the moment, but the reality of her departure looms over us like a storm cloud on an otherwise perfect day.
“I don’t know,” I admit, because I won’t lie to her. “But I know I don’t want you to go.”
She looks away, her gaze drifting to where Bishop is now demonstrating some ridiculous dance move that has Mackenzie covering her face in secondhand embarrassment. “I don’t want to go either,” she whispers so quietly I almost miss it.
My heart stutters in my chest. “Then don’t.”
She looks at me with a pained expression, and fuck, I just want to hold her. “It’s not that simple,” she says, her voice barely audible over the laughter and music drifting across the yard.
“I know.” I squeeze her hand. “But it doesn’t have to be complicated either.”
“But what do you think it would look like? Me staying? What happens when you’re on the road for weeks at a time? What happens when I get another flight assignment? We’d never see each other.”
I shrug, trying to keep it casual even though I feel like hopeful chaos on the inside. “We’d figure it out. Together.”
“And what happens if something happens to you and…and I’m not there?”
And there it is.
Her real fear.
It’s not that she doesn’t love me. She clearly does. Her real fear is losing me. Losing us. Losing another family that loves her so much.
I repeat the same words I just said, but with a little more reassurance. “We’d figure it out, Isla. You and me. Together.”
“Together,” she repeats, the word sounding foreign on her tongue, like she’s testing its weight.
“Together,” I confirm, squeezing her hand.
Before she can respond, Bishop’s voice cuts through the air.
“Kill! Get over here and back me up! Mack says my dance moves are tragic, but I think they’re revolutionary!”
Isla laughs, the tension between us breaking like a wave against the shore. “Go save your brother from himself,” she says, giving my hand one last squeeze before letting go.
I stand reluctantly, not wanting to leave this moment, this almost-breakthrough. “Don’t go anywhere,” I tell her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.
She nods, her attempt at a smile following me as I make my way to the guys. “Revolutionary? More like a war crime against rhythm,” I call back, joining the circle where Bishop is still trying to defend his questionable moves.
“Bro, come on,” Bishop pleads, grabbing my arm. “Show Mack what the Haynes brothers can do. Remember that dance we did at our cousin’s wedding?”
I shake my head, trying to suppress my smile. “That was a disaster, and you know it.”
Sebastian materializes beside us, phone already recording. “Please tell me you’re going to do the wedding dance. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
“Don’t you dare,” I warn, but it’s too late. Sebastian has already queued up some old-school hip-hop track, and Bishop is already moving with an enthusiasm that’s painful to watch.
“Come on, Kill! It’s for Mack!” Bishop stage-whispers, though everyone can hear him. “I need to impress her!”
“You’re doing the opposite of impressing her,” I mutter, but I’m already moving my feet into position. The team forms a circle around us, cheering and clapping as Sebastian cranks up the volume.
The dance is ridiculous, something we made up on the spot at our cousin’s wedding when we were three sheets to the wind, but it gets the job done.
I attempt to synchronize a move that involves spinning and finger guns and by the time we finish the ridiculous routine—complete with a spin move that nearly sends Bishop crashing into the cooler—the whole team is howling.
Even Mackenzie, who’s been trying so hard to maintain her unimpressed facade, has tears streaming down her face.
“Okay, okay,” she concedes, wiping her eyes. “That was... something.”
“Something amazing,” Bishop corrects, his chest puffed out with pride.
“Something, definitely,” she says, but there’s a softness in her expression that wasn’t there before. “I’ll give you points for commitment, Hopper.”
“Commitment is my middle name,” Bishop says, then pauses. “Actually, it’s James. Bishop James Haynes. But commitment sounds better.”
“Only because your initials are BJ,” Brock says with a shit-eating grin.
I catch Isla’s eye across the circle, and she’s doubled over with laughter. Something about seeing her like that—completely unguarded, completely in the moment—makes my heart swell with a feeling so intense it almost hurts.
“Haynes! Encore!” someone shouts from the crowd.
I’m about to protest when Alaric’s phone blares with that familiar Backstreet Boys intro. The team erupts in cheers, and before I can stop him, Sebastian has shoved his phone in my face.
“Your song, bro!” he crows. “Show us those moves!”
I groan but can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “You’re all assholes, you know that?”
“Assholes who want to see you dance!” Bishop shouts, already positioning himself beside me.
I glance at Isla, who’s watching me with that look, the one that says she knows exactly how uncomfortable I am but finds it absolutely delightful anyway. She raises an eyebrow, her lips curving into a challenge.
“You owe me for that,” I mouth to her.
She just grins and blows me a kiss.
The first notes of “I Want It That Way” fill the backyard, and the team goes wild. Bishop grabs my arm, pulling me into a ridiculous dance that’s part nostalgia, part humiliation.
This is what it feels like to be home, I realize. Not just in a place, but with a person. This is what I want every day for the rest of my life.