Page 117 of Trailer Trash

“It can’t be,” I whisper to myself.

The house key slides in perfectly. It twists.

My head tips back and I stare at the ceiling in disbelief.

Killian wants me to move in.

Here.

With him.

“Harlow,” he says.

My gaze snaps down the dark hall where he stands.

31

Killian

The stupid girl who has taken over my life gawks at me.

It’s not how I imagined this moment. Harlow isn’t supposed to have those keys. Aside from her ass falling in love with my dick, this night has been a disaster.

Her ex has been blowing up her phone. Those texts. The pictures. It sickens me.

I was about to tell her things I haven’t told anyone, and she’s gotta have her phone on the table during our date — face down.

I’m the stupid one. I should not have brought her here.

This place.

The place where I lived with Asher.

Jesus.

When I mentioned moving, her first thought was that damn job. This was a mistake.

“Killian, do these keys,” she searches for words, “do you want me to move in with you? Here?”

My stomach knots hard. Hearing it out loud sounds ridiculous.

A future.

With her.

What was I thinking?

Luckily, I’m always quick with my words.

“I wanted you to have your own key for work. Once I move in, you can just walk in when your shift starts, like at the mansion.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders round like the air got knocked out of her lungs.

It hurts to see her disappointed instead of jumping for joy. It isn’t my fault, though.

“Come on. I’ll take you home.”

We don’t say anything else.