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Pushing my food away to the corner of the bed, I stretch out beside him and settle my head on a pillow. “I’d come visit you.”
“Oh? Conjugal visits, eh?”
“Or the normal kind.”
He watches me while he finishes his food, an unfamiliar glint flaring in his gaze that has my core tightening with need. When his plate is clean, he scoops our trays up and tosses them in the garbage, then climbs in the bed with me, switching off the bedside lamp.
I can almost feel the smile crinkling the corners of his mouth as he tugs me into him and buries his face in my neck. “There’s nothing wrong with it, you know,” he murmurs, the sound making my skin vibrate.
“Yeah, I know. It’s just… weird. A lifetime of no one wanting to listen to me, and suddenly that’s all Hana wants. My pain, my sorrow, my joy. All of it. It’s just strange.”
Pulling back, he threads his fingers through my hair, lining our faces so our noses brush in the dark. “Practice on me.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
“If it feels weird to tell that stuff to a stranger, practice with me first. Give me your sorrow and joy, and maybe it’ll make it easier to tell her next time.”
“Why…” I trail off, considering how his offer makes this thing between us feel more solid. Like an actual relationship, and I can’t quite tell if the sudden spasm in my heart is a good thing or an omen. A warning of heartbreak to come.
“Because I want it,” he whispers, dragging his tongue along my jaw, making me shiver. Kieran shifts, spreading my thighs and settling between them, beginning a trail down my throat with his mouth that has me agreeing to whatever.
It’s a long time before I realize I don’t mind the compliance.
Chapter 19
Kieran
“So,” Fiona says around bites of burrito, juice dripping between her fingers and down her wrist, “is no one gonna address the fact that Kieran has a girlfriend?”
Forks and mouths freeze in midair; my jaw clenches as I swallow my food, glaring at her from across the dining table. If she were closer, I’d kick her, but her decision to sit at the end opposite me, beside Boyd, now seems strategic.
My mother’s eyes light up as they snap to mine, questions dancing in her gaze. “A girlfriend?”
“You’re not keeping things from us again, are ya, boy?” My father chuckles, sitting back in his chair, adjusting the strap on his shoulder sling.
Setting my fork on my plate, I fold my hands together and brace them on the table, focusing on a piece of warped wood beneath the crocheted runner. “There’s nothing to address, because there’s no girlfriend. Fiona is terribly mistaken, I’m afraid.”
“So, Juliet Harrison’s a free agent, then? I can tell the TA in my Intro to Psych class that he can ask her out?” A knot forms in my throat and my knuckles tighten around themselves; the corners of her bright red lips twitch, the light from the chandelier making her brown eyes twinkle with deviance.
“You can tell your TA to eat a dick.”
Boyd coughs into his wineglass and my mother gasps, a tremor starting in her hands as she tries to cut the bigger leaves of lettuce in her salad bowl. It starts in her thumb as it rolls against her index finger, dislodging the utensils.
Lately, stress has been a major trigger for her spasms, and with my father’s bullet wound and the hushed, general concern for our family’s safety, she’s been under more than usual. She doesn’t even retain what exactly is stressing her out most of the time, but the agitation remains like a tumor, growing and crippling her further.
My gaze latches on to her hand, the tic in my jaw intensifying as she points a wobbly finger in my direction. “Kieran Ivers. If you’ve not laid a claim to this girl, you have no right going around telling anyone not to ask her out. I raised you better than that.”
“To be fair,” my father says, slinging his good arm over the back of her chair. “The story of how we got together isn’t exactly the best model for the kids to use. Remember? You were dating that quarterback from UNC and I was just some ex-convict with a bad reputation?”
“That’s different.” She glances up at him, stars in her eyes—as if she’s actually recalling the time he’s referencing. “You didn’t tell me to stop dating him.”
“No, I just befriended you and hung around until you realized he wasn’t the one for you.” He slides his hand down and interlocks their fingers, halting the shake by pressing hers into her shoulder. Leaning over, he places a kiss on her temple, and fixes me with a pointed look. “I have to say, though, I’m surprised Elia Montalto’s even letting younearsomeone he cares about.”
“She’s an adult, it’s not like he can just lock her in the house and throw away the key.” Although, I wouldn’t mind locking her in my house and never letting her leave.
“You should bring her by for dinner one night,” Fiona says, cocking an eyebrow. She elbows Boyd, who sits up straighter and nods his agreement, his gaze cast down and unfocused—like it’s been for weeks now. Like he’s got one foot in reality, and the other is missing or severed entirely.
“Why would I ever subject a girl I like to this family circus?”
