22. 22
Killian
The lowly CNA pet my head like I’m a fucking dog.
And I loved it.
I got what I wanted a week ago. I fucked her. I should be over this shit.
Then she pet me.
Keeping her as whatever she is shouldn’t be a big deal. I’m not attached. I’m bored.
I walk through the front door, nod at Mom, and head for the stairs. Harlow will be here in an hour. I need to shower.
“Wait, honey,” says Mom. “How was work?”
“Good. The drive sucks. I want to move closer.”
Her face drains of all color. “Do you mean move out?”
I sigh, annoyed because I only live here for her. At some point, she needs to accept I won’t stay forever.
“Your kid is supposed to move out,” I remind her. “Jagger and River did.”
“They’re different than you.”
“I lived in the condo with Asher, and—”
She flinches hard. “That doesn’t count, and we don’t talk about him in this house.”
I cock my head, ready to unleash my fury. I can never say his fucking name, like it’s too shameful to admit Asher existed.
“I miss him,” I say sternly, knowing it will boil her blood.
She closes her eyes and takes a moment to gather herself. I want this fight. She clearly doesn’t. Her tone shifts, kinder and uplifted.
“This is silly, honey. I don’t understand why you’re working, anyway. Do you need more money? Dad will increase your trust payments.”
“I’m not working for the money.”
She draws in a deep breath and rubs her temples, frustrated. “Then why are you doing this?”
I don’t know how to answer that question honestly.
“I want to compete again,” I lie.
Her eyebrow arches, but she doesn’t argue.
“Don’t leave, yet. Have a seat.” She pats the chair next to her.
I check my watch, then sit beside her, gesturing for her to talk fast.
“I’m worried you’re looking at Harlow... in a certain way,” she starts.
“Everyone is always worrying about me. I’m fine,” I grumble.
“I just don’t understand. Please tell me you are not...”
“Fucking her?”
“No, no!” She panics, cheeks flushing. “I simply mean, I like that you are doing better. Harlow comes to the house where you’re safe. You are happy and healthy. I don’t want anything to disrupt that.”
“Like fucking her?”
“Take this seriously,” she hisses. “Dad said this new car thing might be more than you showing appreciation.”
“So I can fuck her or no?”
“Damn it, Killian! Stop it,” she commands, as if she can still boss me around. “Please, do not cross boundaries with that woman.”
I squint. “Why are you so scared of her?”
“I’m not scared. I just...” She searches for words. “Why do you always have to make things harder for yourself? A lower-class girl? Frida is far better—”
“Frida is married. Frida cheated on me twice. Frida is insane.”
Her voice lowers. “Harlow’s... kind of built funny, too. She would look strange in our family photos.”
Family photos.
The nerve.
“What? Are you afraid the neighbors will see your son with—”
“A circus act. Yes. It concerns me. Goodness, Killian. It’s bad enough you’ve put those hideous tattoos all over your body, but now you want to hurt your mother by choosing someone who will produce odd-looking grandchildren.”
I stand up, my temper about to erupt. “Don’t worry about Harlow, Mom. I’m not having children with her or anyone.”
“Don’t say that,” she says calmly, but I see the hurt in her eyes. “You will marry and have children.”
I debate whether I should say it. It won’t help, but I hate that she wants to ignore the truth: I’ll probably die of an overdose before I’d marry.
About every six months I get closer to that destiny.
“River wants money for his wedding. That’s the closest you’ll get me into a tux and you know it.”
She doesn’t deny it.
“Pay for his wedding as if it were mine,” I add.
“Your father and I don’t like his fiancée. She’s a...” Her voice hints of disgust as she mumbles, “...tennis coach.”
I shake my head. “But she’s skinny. She’ll make cute grandbabies.”
“Killian,” she hisses once more.
I am already walking away, unwilling to entertain this conversation. She bitches, but I ignore her.
I take a shower, put on new clothes, a little cologne, and my best gold chain. Check my hair. Good.
Harlow shows up just as I finish getting ready. I play it cool.
I study her form from the side as she rummages through her bag. Her ass seems fine to me. Yeah, it’s a shelf. I could set a glass on it, but I’m not ashamed of Harlow. She’s cute. Compact. Curvy. Not the eye-sore Mom claimed. I suppose it’s possible I’ve gotten used to Harlow’s unusual body.
“My lowly CNA,” I greet.
She rolls her eyes.
“How are you, Killy?” she taunts.
“Good. I’m tired.”
I really am. I worked ten hours. It’d be nice if she’d ask what I did today. She never does. I drop her breadcrumbs. I don’t know why I want her to know.
I bet she regrets hooking up. We could hook up a couple of times a week... or more. It’s not my fault she got all clingy afterwards.
Hell, I made her eyes roll back, and now she hasn’t asked for seconds. Now that I think about it, why not?
I’ve never seen a woman shake that hard and then act like it wasn’t worth repeating. She forgot the night already. I should’ve rammed my cock down her throat so it hurt for five days. Then I wouldn’t be so forgettable.
Her damn ethics probably got into her head.
Mom is right. Crossing that boundary was a mistake — only because Harlow’s more professional now.
Or there’s someone else.
I bite down.
Just then, my gaze falls to her plush ass once more. Guys have to check her out. I remember giving it to her from behind and watching it bounce with every thrust. She was gone. I fucked her into a coma. I had to be the best she’s ever had. For all I know, she’s bending over for some other fucker.
Someone who won’t appreciate her like I do.
“Harlow, do you get a lot of attention because of your body?”
It’s blunt. My temper was about to boil over, though.
She side-eyes me, her smile huge. “Uh, what do you mean?”
I manage to keep a straight face despite the rage simmering underneath. “You know, your ass. Is it a problem for you?”
Her eyes sparkle. She looks over her shoulder at her backside. Her lips purse tightly, but she can’t help but giggle. “Actually, sometimes it’s a thing. Did you know people write ‘booty’ in the dust on my car window?”
“Huh?”
“Yeah. It’s true. They think it’s funny. They’ll make beeping noises when I back up, too, like a wide load is coming through. They’re people I know, though. They’re not being mean. They like it. We always laugh.”
They. Who the fuck is they?
I study her face closely as she continues.
“Sometimes — especially with guys in a room — it feels like I have a spotlight on my ass when I walk by.”
I knew it. Men.
I restrain myself from demanding their names.
“Is that a good thing to you? Men watching and wanting you.”
“It can be.” Her gaze lifts to mine, lingering. “If I like the guy. Otherwise, it feels like I’m naked and can’t cover up. That’s the only time I wish I had a normal body. Does that answer your question?”
I nod, but my mother’s words ring in my ears, abrasive and nagging. It pisses me off. Harlow pisses me off, too. I know she likes eyes on her. I saw her in the club.
“Just wear looser clothes,” I say.
“Uh, no. They’re all tight.”
“Or you like guys gawking at you.”
She squints, her smile fading. She places her hands on her hips. “What’s gotten into you today?”
I shrug innocently. “I’m just saying, cover up unless you want guys staring at your ass.”
She scoffs angrily.
I see the hurt flash in her big stupid eyes.
“I won’t dignify that with an answer.” She stalks to the kitchen, practically fleeing.
Fuck. I made things worse.
Might be worth it, though. I’d rather she not get fucked at all.
If I really wanted to, I could date her. Then she’d put out.
How long would that last though? Until she cheated. Left. Until she woke up to find me dead on the bathroom floor.
I could stay sober. Maybe. For her.
I leave her sulking in the kitchen and head to the nearest bathroom, I shut the door and pull the tin from its hiding place.
It’s been a week since I slipped, but I need it. She drug screens me on Mondays. I can get high a few times, be clean for three, then I’ll probably pass the test.
I should tell her. This might get worse.
No.
Then she’ll really leave.
She doesn’t need to know.