Page 55 of Keep Me In Your Heart

I realize as I march angrily into the now-dark city streets that threatening murder might not be a huge improvement in maturity from throwing drinks at her like a child, but it is an improvement nonetheless. And for that, I’m sort of proud.

Chapter Eighteen

My mind is still reeling from that conversation with Claire as I storm down the cobblestone street toward where Peter dropped me off. I told him to pick up me around seven, but I realize as I glance down at my watch that it’s well past eight thirty now.

Stopping in front of a closed store, I pull out my phone from my purse. I quickly find Peter’s contact and notice the battery is down to one tiny sliver.

Shit.

Quickly, I punch out a message to him.

I need a ride—

The screen goes black.

“Fuck!” I bark as I squeeze the buttons again, hoping it will magically come back to life. Holding my useless phone in my hands, I glance up to check my surroundings. Surely there has to be a store around here that sells chargers.

But nearly every storefront displays dark spaces and locks on the doors. I forgot nearly everything in this town closes early.

Okay, okay. I’ll just walk back to where Peter dropped me off.I’m sure that’s where he’s waiting. So I continue down the street toward where I think I’m supposed to turn. But when I reach that street, it’s definitely not like I remember. Which means I must have made a wrong turn somewhere.

Panic starts to build inside me. I’m out of cash to call a cab, not that there are any on the streets for me to hail like I did in New York City.

I’m screwed.

Stop panicking, Sylvie. You’ve been in worse situations.

Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I continue my walk, waiting for any of these street names to appear familiar. But the night is so dark, and nothing looks like it did five hours ago. I never should have let Claire lead me away from the area I knew. I never should have walked off with her at all.

That conversation only frustrated and confused me more than I already am. I may not like Killian like she thinks I do, but I do sympathize with him. Everyone in his life seems to know what’s best for him. No wonder he’s locked himself away. Not a single person in his circle has actually offered to help him. They just want to control him.

And not in the way he needs.

I know that feeling. My parents want me to be someone else entirely. Everything I do and say disappoints them. To the point where I have alienated myself from everyone because it’s easier to be alone than to be less than what someone expects.

But even that gets lonely.

So lonely.

I can only imagine what that’s like for him. I meant every word I said to Claire. Killian just needs a soft place to land. A person who supports him for him. All the bad parts with the good. Someone who gives him room to be himself.

Hell, maybe that’s just what I need.

Because now that I think about it, I never felt that with Aaron. He never supported me without his own judgment. He was just asbad as Anna and Claire, claiming they can fix Killian.

Before I know it, I feel the moisture of tears pooling in my eyes. It must be from the panic of being lost in the city. Or the frenetic energy of that fight with Claire. But once I start crying, I can’t stop. I’m wiping tear after tear from my eyes as I walk angrily through the dark city streets.

The only things that are open are bustling pubs and seedy tobacco stores. I could go in. I’d likely find someone or something to help. But I don’t.

What is going back to the house going to help? I’d still be lost.

The screech of tires jerks me from my thoughts, and I let out a scream. Turning to stare into the bright lights, I back away from the black car, waiting for someone to emerge—praying it’s my driver, Peter.

The door flies open, and I let out a gasp.

Killian’s panicked expression has my skin tingling with goose bumps. “Where the fuck have you been?” he bellows. I’ve never heard him sound so angry. I take a step farther away.

“Killian?” My mind can’t seem to catch up and process what I’m seeing.

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