Aimee: I’m safe and warm.
I wait for her answer though I’m sure she’s probably fallen asleep by now.
To my surprise, a message comes through a few minutes later.
Mom: Oh good! I was about to send out a search party. The storm is already slowing. If they get the roads cleared, can we still expect you for dinner tomorrow night?
I groan wishing the storm would’ve lasted a little longer. Give me a little more time before I have to face them. I consider telling her I won’t be able to make it but if the storm doesn’t develop any further, there’s no reason why I couldn’t.
Aimee: I’ll do my best.
Mom: Love you. Sleep tight.
I wish her goodnight and toss my phone on the coffee table before my eyes drift to the door.
Killian won’t walk through it. He has to work all night. That doesn’t stop me from wishing. I didn’t know what I’d feel when I saw him again. I half expected embarrassment and shame but what I really felt was the same way I always felt being with him. Love. Safe. Home.
They say you can never go home again. It’s true. My parent’s home hasn’t felt the same since I graduated and started living my own life. There’s no feeling of home living in the city. I’ve gone so long without feeling like I’m home, I wasn’t sure it was something I’d ever feel again. Now I know I can feel it with Killian.
I’m almost glad I got fired. Maybe it’s what needed to happen to give us the second chance we talked about before we went our separate ways.
Or maybe this is just another thing that will go horribly wrong.
Groaning, I peel myself off the couch and go to the kitchen. I should probably eat something. The last thing I ate was a roller grill hot dog at a truck stop hours ago.
Taking Killian up on his offer, I grab a fork and the jar of bread and butter pickles. I eat slice after slice while I peruse the rest of the cabinets for something with a bit more substance but very little effort needed to prepare. Until I open the cabinet stacked several bottles deep with a number of different whiskeys.
“It may not fill my stomach but it’ll definitely keep me warm.” I grab a bottle of Connemara peated Irish and a glass, then take my seat on the couch again and pour myself a finger. The amber liquid goes down smoothly. Smoky and sweet like butter cookies.
In no time, one drink turns into two, then three. I’m well and truly buzzed but not so far gone that I don’t understand that I’m using the alcohol to forget my troubles. Which is not like me, at all. About the only time I have a drink is a beer or two at a baseball game or my mom’s eggnog on Christmas Eve.
Oh, yeah. There’s something to look forward to tomorrow night. And, hey, maybe it will help calm my nerves enough to give them the bad news.
Is it a plan?
Not really. But it’s better than avoiding my parents until my dad finds out from his buddy Garrett and they’re mad at me, not only for getting fired but also for not telling them about it.
With a poor excuse for a plan but a plan nonetheless, I pour myself another drink, and salute to no one before throwing it back all in one gulp.
CHAPTER3
Aimee
A sliver of bright sunlight spills through a small crack in the curtains of Killian’s bedroom. I barely remember falling asleep last night. I certainly don’t remember coming to bed. I squint against the light and the pounding headache as I look myself over. When did I change into my pajamas?
As soon as my eyes adjust, I look around the room. Only the side of the bed I’d been sleeping in is crumpled but on the bedside table is a bottle of painkillers and a full glass of water.
“Oh, Killian,” I sigh with a smile.
He always could take better care of me than I could take care of myself. It appears he hasn’t lost his touch.
Smiling through the hangover, I take the painkillers and down the glass of water, thankful I didn’t get puke-drunk.
When I feel like I can make it across the room without too much stumbling, I find my way to the bathroom across the hall. Again, I find things laid out for me, my toothbrush, toothpaste, face wash, the works.
It takes me longer than normal to put myself together. Somehow, I manage to come out looking like a proper human being and not the swamp monster I was when I first looked in the mirror. Not that it will help me face my first level of shame for the day.
“Morning, sunshine,” Killian says, opening the oven as I walk into the kitchen.
