46. 46
Harlow
I sit on Killian’s lap and hug him, locking my arms around his neck and pressing my cheek tightly against his. His broad chest rises and falls against mine. He’s warm, solid, and absolutely huggable.
Apparently, it’s the same thing Frida did that horrific night. An embrace. Maybe it’s instinctual for women to hold monsters when they uncover their scars.
If I’m being honest with myself, I’m unsure what else to do. My heart bleeds for him. Worst of all, I pity him, and now, I know why he hates that. Everyone pitied him.
Also, I’ve never met someone with an identical twin, but I imagine it might feel like you’re both alive and dead if the other passes away. That’s how he described it, anyway.
“Um,” I say hesitantly, searching for words that won’t make him feel like a tragic ending. “How does that make you feel?”
Oh Lord. I sound like my therapist.
“I mean, wow,” I blurt, gazing at him.
His expression is unreadable. He ignores my question and repeats, “Are we closer now?”
I nod. Too long. Too stupid.
But he smiles, big and crooked.
Heck yeah. I did something right.
His account of that night continues swirling in my head. So much makes sense now. How he clearly has abandonment issues. His jealousy of Jagger. How he warned me not to sleep with his brother. How hard it is to move on when you don’t understand the why.
“Did you ever confront Frida about Asher?”
“No. Frida cheated with someone else not long afterward, and I stopped caring whether she admitted what happened with him. Either way, if he had just given me time, I would’ve forgiven him. I think he slept with her so I’d have a reason to hate him after he was gone.”
I nod once more. Carefully, I ask, “What about River? Why did you sleep with his fiancée? You did to River exactly what Asher did to you.”
He shrugs and looks at his lap. “I didn’t know they were engaged.”
My heart sinks, because I hoped we were past lies.
“She knew your name, Killian.”
“Harlow, I don’t remember,” he says, neither defensive nor upset. “I was drunk and high. I assume we talked before hooking up. I don’t remember.”
I want to believe him. It’s an easy excuse, though. The most exonerating excuse: I don’t remember.
“Baby, when things are good between us, I don’t think about Asher.”
“Really?”
“Mm-hm. I’ll get you a new trailer and we can live in it. Wherever you want to live is fine. Just say you want me with you.”
“Aww,” I swoon. “Jesus, Killian. Of course I do.”
His eyes light up for the first time since we started this grim discussion. I really do make him happy. I can’t deny having him close feels right. I’ve felt his absence from the moment he walked away.
Killian and I start fresh.
During the first week, we are quiet, ruminating on everything. I watch him like a hawk, though, praying I don’t catch him using. It’s hard for him. I can tell. He gets fidgety and paces. Sometimes, he’ll hold me on the couch until his leg quits bouncing.
He replaces my phone and school supplies before I can ask. Keysha cries when I finally call her. I tell the fire investigator I’m safe, but I don’t tell him who started the blaze. That lie belongs to me now.
By week two, I remember I can’t be his counselor. He doesn’t want to, but he attends Narcotics Anonymous, a weekly group. I set up a therapist appointment for him. I think individual counseling will help.
I’m a little codependent, but I’ll set it up. He can do the work.
His dad isn’t convinced Killian will stay sober, so he hasn’t restarted Killian’s trust payments.
I can’t blame Clark. The condo works for now.
It has to. My insurance money for the trailer was denied because the cops ruled it suspicious.
They don’t have enough evidence to connect the arson to anyone, but I still won’t get a payout.
Killian told me about dealing drugs, which he claims he stopped, but we’re both working. Me at the hospital, and him at the dance studio.
By week three, we visit the beach fairly often. We play sand volleyball or walk along the water. I think it helps him with the cravings.
He drives me to school and work. Although I think he would even if I had a car.
“Quit your job,” he says after picking me up.
“We talked about this, Killian.”
“You don’t have to work while you’re in nursing school. I’ll support us.”
“How? What happens when your cash runs out?”
“I’ll talk to my dad to restart the trust payments. I’m sober three weeks now. He’ll do it.”
“I don’t know—”
He grips the steering wheel, making his knuckles white. “I’m trying to be patient, but I don’t like it. You’re either at school, working, studying, or sleeping.”
I twist my fingers together and mumble, “Okay. If your dad does the trust-thing, I’ll quit, but I want to be a nurse after I graduate. I won’t have school, so we’ll have more time together then.”
“Yeah?” he says excitedly.
It is so cute how much he loves my company. I love his too.
“Yep,” I say and grab his hand over the console.
The next day, Killian seems particularly anxious. As usual, I insist we go to the beach.
The salty air fills my nostrils as we walk in the wet sand. I pick up a seashell, studying the unique speckles glittering on the surface.
“Harlow.”
I turn around.
“You look really beautiful.”
I smile and push on his shoulder, but I notice something different about his eyes. His expression.
“I don’t think you understand how much I love you.”
I flutter my lashes, but giggle. “Uh, I have a pretty good idea based on your stalking habits alone.”
He doesn’t smile. Instead, he takes my hands in his.
“No. I mean when you’re gone, I ache for you. I don’t just miss you. My body physically reacts. I feel hollow inside and I have this powerful drive to find you and keep you close.”
“Well, I love—”
Suddenly...
Killian is looking up at me.
He’s on one knee.
Oh. My. God.
My chest expands as I suck in a sharp breath. My eyes bulge. I am frozen.
He opens a small box, revealing a sparkling diamond. He holds his bottom lip between his teeth, then takes a deep breath through his nose.
“I don’t want to wait any longer,” he says.
“It seems so long ago when I believed my lowly CNA was only a distraction. As time went by, I wanted you around more often. I convinced myself I was addicted. Then it got worse. I hated the idea of you becoming a replacement for Asher. You weren’t.
You’re not a distraction, a drug, or a new best friend to replace the one I lost. You’re the woman who healed me the way no one else could. ”
My hands shake. I cup my elbows in disbelief that this is happening.
“I want to be your husband. If you’ll be my wife, I promise you’ll feel how deeply I love you every day.”
This man I was never supposed to cross paths with wants to walk alongside me for the rest of my life.
“Okay,” I say, finally exhaling the breath I was holding.
His devastating and crooked smile appears. “Yeah?”
“Yeah!”
I’m thrust upward as he lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist and we kiss, right there on the beach with the seagulls squawking and people looking on — people who I didn’t know were watching. A few applaud, and somehow, knowing others were witnessing this makes it feel even better.
Killian is mine. He belongs to me. He chose me.
Every rational part of me knows three weeks of sobriety proves nothing. A diamond cannot cure him. Love cannot guarantee he’ll never spiral again.
I hear every warning.
I choose him anyway.
That’s what I try to explain to Keysha when I call her to share the news.
“I still think he’s dangerous,” she says.
“He is.”
“And you’re still marrying him?”
“Yes.”
She exhales. “Fine. I’m still standing beside you at the wedding. But if you disappear on me again, I’m coming with a gun and a police escort.”
“I know,” I murmur, “And I love you for it.”