Page 28 of Last Round

I cross my arms. “It’s too hot for sweatpants.”

“Naked then, for all I care. The point is… sit the fuck down and chill.”

“Sure thing, Ma.”

“It’s bad enough when you call me Dad, but don’t call me Mom now too.”

“What you just told me—how I need to be more careful, no drinking, no sex—sounds a lot like my ma.”

“Fuck off. Get some rest.” Sean exits my office, laughing as he goes.

Before anyone else sneaks in here and tries to give me their sage advice, I head down the back hall, to the stairs that lead to my apartment. I tolerate it from Sean, but these other assholes can keep that shit to themselves.

The apartment seems bigger, empty, during the sobering light of day. It’s one in the afternoon. Maybe Da is home. Things are getting better between us and I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s been visiting family in Ireland a lot. He probably only comes back because of Cassie and the baby. I start to text him, see if he’s even around, but drop my cell as someone knocks on my door. Only one person visits me here, and he has a key.

“Hold on,” I holler and bend down to grab my phone. “What do you—” My words die on my tongue as I open the door and gaze down at the fiery angel staring back at me.

Egg Rolls

Molly

Despitemyinnermantrachantingremain calm,I continue to fidget with the zipper of the thin sweatshirt I threw on before coming up here. Killian’s icy gaze studies me. While it’s likely only been seconds, it feels like hours have passed under his intense glare.

Why won’t he say anything? Is he that mad at me?

Silence is better than him telling me to go away.

“Don’t back down.” Bex’s encouraging words repeat in my mind. While my motivation for coming up here differs from what she suggested, the sentiment remains the same.

“Are you going to invite me in?” I manage to ask with more confidence than I’m feeling at the present moment.

Killian combs his fingers through his hair as he glances over his shoulder at the interior of his apartment. “Sure… I mean, come in.” He steps aside, allowing me to enter his space before rushing forward, snatching a few articles of clothing from the couch, and tossing them down the hall. “Sorry. It’s a mess.”

It’s not.

If it weren’t for his clothes and the walls decorated with photos of him and his family, I’d assume this was a showroom. A framed picture on the end table gets my attention. Picking it up, it takes me a second before I recognize his sister. Cassie’s dark hair is a piled mess on top of her head. She’s without a stitch of makeup, which is why I almost didn’t realize it was her. Beside her is a large man with his equally enormous arm around her shoulders. Both are staring lovingly down at a baby in her arms.

“She looks really happy,” I comment as I continue to stare at the photo.

“She is.” Killian keeps his distance, with his hands held behind his back.

“I was sad I missed the wedding.” Sean passed along the invite, but circumstances I’d rather forget prevented me from going.

“What are you doing here?”

I guess our small talk is over.

That’s a loaded question. Why am I here, as in physically, in his apartment? Or why did I come to the gym? Hell, why am I back in Minnesota? While I assume he’s asking the obvious, answering him remains difficult.

“To patch you up.” He gives me a quizzical look. I gesture to the small gash on his forehead that’s mostly dried blood. It doesn’t look like he’s made any effort to clean or even bandage it. “Where’s your first aid kit?”

“I can—”

“Killian.” Hand resting on my cocked hip, I give him a pointed stare. “Sit down and tell me where you keep the damn thing.”

He lets out a long sigh, then plops his ass on the couch. “Down the hall, top of the closet, on your right.”

Along the way to retrieve the kit, I inspect his home. After New York, penthouses and luxury apartments are nothing new for me, so my interest isn’t in how nice his place is. It’s the fact that, despite the few personal effects and the fireman pole, I’d never assume Killian lived here.

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