Page 186 of Trailer Trash

“Oh?” says Clark.

“Mm-hm. It’s where we fell in love with each other. The backyard is big enough.”

“Absolutely!” Christine gushes. “Yes! I’ll help with the arrangements. I know a woman who owns a bridal shop. Very high-end. Only the best for you two.”

Okay, Christine is still an overbearing mother, but I can’t fault her. She lost one son, another is locked up, and Killian put her through hell. Family drama is not immune to wealth. I’ve learned that much since meeting the Eastons.

Then, she eyes Killian and rubs his arm tenderly. “Your children will be beautiful, and I cannot wait for them to arrive.”

He lifts his chin, his expression surprised, but then nods, smiling softly.

“Thank you,” I say, surprised myself that she is already talking about kids.

On the drive home, Killian murmurs, “Asher would’ve liked the service.”

I perk up. “It was good?”

“Mm-hm. Especially the part about him charming the pretty girls.”

“Maybe he got that skill from you. I thought you were charming the first day we met. Difficult, but charming.”

Killian chuckles, sounding and looking content.

I think the funeral helped. I don’t know about closure, but he made it through. He’s joking, and that laugh is real. I know my Killy.

The following night, I lounge in a hammock on the bungalow’s wooden porch, watching the gentle waves roll in. I snack on strawberries from a bowl cradled on my lap.

Killian appears in the doorway. He leans against the frame. His shirtless form is warmed by the glow of the sunset.

Fucking hot.

But not trustworthy. Not yet.

“Did you go to therapy today?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he answers, his tone slightly annoyed. “I’m telling you, I’m fine about Asher. Did you see the flowers on the counter? I got them for you.”

My heart skips a beat. I purse my lips to stifle a smile. I did see them, and I love them, but I won’t let him change the subject.

“Yes, thank you. They’re so beautiful. But, Kill, I want to make sure you continue your treatment plan.”

“It’s dumb. I don’t need it. My psychotic break is over.”

My brow lifts as concern floods my chest and drowns my heart.

He raises his palm and smirks. “Relax, you pathetic thing. I’ll go for as long as you want me to.”

Warmth replaces the fear swirling in my chest. He really does a lot of things he’d rather not do to keep me happy.

I recognize that.

“How’s your therapy?” he says, his grin smug. “Does your bratty shrink still think I’m bad for you?”

“Dr. Jannis doesn’t think that!” I laugh softly, but honestly, I can tell she is not very supportive of us being a couple. “Dr. Jannis was just worried because of your history and sexual… habits.”

His grin turns wicked.

“If loving you is wrong, I don’t want to be right.”