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“Ginny—”
“Don’t talk to me,” I snapped. Blinking hard, I forced back the onslaught of tears threatening to wreck me. “Don’t say a word.”
“He didn’t make the decision alone,” Sam told me softly. “We all thought—”
“You thought wrong.” I interrupted. “All of you thought wrong.”
“Ready for round two, old man?” Killian taunted.
“You ain’t winnin’ this time, Byrne,” Cole replied with a grin.
Good God, what was this?
I watched as they threw jokes and jeers back and forth, riling up the crowd. No, I watched Killian. Or the man he’d become. I didn’t recognize this man. His vulgar language, his taunts and comments, his body language. Even the way he held himself was all different. I struggled to reconcile this man with the man I’d married.
I gasped, the air catching in my throat, as Cole threw the first punch and hit Killian in the jaw. But that grin. That wicked, entertained grin as he spit out blood was so telling.
“You know, we timed it last time,” Killian said loudly. “It took me forty-five seconds to put you on your fucking ass last time. Who wants to make a bet I can do it faster this time?”
The crowd drowned out anything else he had to say. Not that I wanted to hear anyway. My heart hammered erratically as I watched them go at it. Seconds. Minutes. Who really knew?
It felt like a lifetime.
A horrible, stretching lifetime where Killian held nothing back as he kicked Cole’s ass, making him bleed and making him tap out.
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t be here.
I couldn’t watch him as he riled up the crowd.
As he fought.
As he enjoyed hurting other people in the name of entertainment.
My stomach rolled violently and pushed against the back of my throat at that thought. Who was this man? I couldn’t understand how he’d turned into… this.
Stepping back in slow steps, I disappeared into the crowd, ignoring anything anyone said. All I wanted was to get out of there.
Chapter 11
Genevieve
Ithrew Nolan’s stuff in the hallway. Maybe it was petty. Maybe I should’ve waited. Maybe I should’ve let him explain. But not a single part of me wanted to.
I was angry.
Livid.
Scared? Was I scared? I hadn’t seen Killian in three years. Not since he left me in the hospital… my stomach rolled at the thought, and I shoved that memory away. I couldn’t think about that. I’d done everything I could to not think about that day.
I paced my bedroom anxiously. The bunk beds and dresser made the room impossibly small, and I weaved around things. I fussed with the sleeves of my sweatshirt and did my best not to spiral.
Why now? Why was he back?
Was he back?
Or was he just visiting? That was a possibility. Maybe he just missed his brothers—they’d always been close.
