Page 20 of Fall

“I wasn’t going to.” The words come out soft, and I unbend my knees from my awkward and uncomfortable position. “I really wasn’t.”

“But things change. Your infatuation with us wouldn’t have kept your lips sealed forever. Eventually guilt would’ve won out, and you’d tell the police about us.Allof us.” His smile turns a little regretful, though he’s still holding his hand out to me. “I need you to have a real reason not to go to the cops. I need it to affect you too, darling.”

I can’t trust him. IknowI can’t trust either of them. But God, I sort of want to. “If you find a reason, you really won’t kill me or keep me here? Or kidnap me again?” I ask finally, hating how soft my voice is.

“I swear on my life.” It’s sohonestthat it shocks me. His tone isn’t what I’ve come to expect from Kieran, nor is the look on his face.

I can’t trust him.

“I don’t trust you,” I whisper, though my words are uncertain and hesitant.

A wry smile curls across his lips, and he scoffs lightly. “Of course you don’t,” he agrees. “Because you’re not stupid. But you don’t have to trust me to let me brush your hair, Noa.”

I could snap back at him and tell him that’s not true. I could find some comeback that will make me feel better about myself. But I can’t seem to find the words, and it hits me that I’m sotiredof being afraid.

Besides, it’s not like this can get much worse.

“If you secretly have drugs in that brush to knock me out again, or if you drugged the pie, I will scoop out your insides with aspoon,” I say flatly, maneuvering my body until I’m on my knees near him and hovering awkwardly. “How do you want to do this?”

“Turn around and sit closer to me. I don’t bite.” Kieran chuckles, a hint of wicked humor in his dark eyes. He tugs gently on my hip when I move until I’m sitting cross-legged on the couch and half-leaning against his thigh that’s pressed to the back of the couch. Finally, I rest my head in my hands, elbows braced on my knees, with my skin prickling in anticipation.

No one has brushed my hair for me except my mom, back when she was alive. I expect Kieran to be rough and hurried, to drag the brush through my hair and rip out as many tangles as he gets undone. But yet again, he surprises me. Using his other hand to make sure he isn’t hurting me, he starts with the left side of my head, starting at the bottom and gently working his way up.

I quickly start feeling awkward at the affectionate way he does it, and I can’t help but appreciate the warmth radiating off of him. “So…” I tap my fingers against my face when the silence broken only by the TV becomes too much. “You said I don’t know anything about you. You’re right, since I unfortunatelycannot read minds. Maybe you want to, uh, tell me something about yourself?”

He’s quiet for a few moments, and I can’t see his face to tell what he’s thinking. Finally Kieran says, “I like storms too. Val isn’t as much of a fan, though. He doesn’t like being caught out in the rain.”

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t have expected that with how much he liked being in the dirt last night.” I can’t help but wonder how often in the past Kieran brushed someone’s hair. While I know it isn’t exactly a difficult task, he just seems…practiced.

“His adoptive parents used to lock him outside when it was storming if he pissed them off.”

This time I can’t help but jerk around to face Kieran, my lips parted in surprise as he pulls his hands away from me. “What?!” I ask, disbelieving.

The dark-haired man shrugs his shoulders, lifting a brow at my reaction. “This isn’t a secret, not really. So you don’t need to treat it like one or anything.” He gestures for me to turn back around, and I do so with a soft sigh, resuming my position.

“He was adopted from Russia as a child. Val was…six, I believe? He’s unfortunately representative of the not-so-great side of adoption. His adoptive parents were a very religious family. They renamed him, taught him fluent English, and wouldn’t let him speak Russian, use his old name, or talk about his birth family. They thought he should begratefulto them and their punishments were…severe.”

I’m horrified and glad Kieran can’t see my expression as he explains. “What about you?” I ask after a few moments of comfortable silence. “Do you also have a really sad, heart wrenching past? Because if so, I’m not sure you can top that one.”

I hear his soft chuckle, and he turns my head slightly to be able to get the rest of my hair. “Nah, I don’t. I’m pretty boring.Grew up in the suburbs, went to boarding school. And Kieran was the name I was born with.”

“Will you tell me about the Haunt?” I ask, surprising myself with the words. “Will you tell me why you guys did that to those people?”

For a few moments, he doesn’t speak. Moments turn into a minute, and he’s nearly done brushing out the tangles in my hair by the time he gives a slight exhale. “Because fair’s fair, Noa. No one in there was innocent. They all hurt one of us in one way or another. And I don’t just mean name calling or stealing someone’s parking spot.” He pulls away, and I hear him set the brush down on the table by the couch. Before I can move, however, Kieran wraps his arms around me to tug me back until I’m draped against him, my back against his chest.

Once I’m comfortably between his thighs, he drops his arm around my waist, his legs bracketing mine on the deep couch. Unexpectedly, he buries his face against my neck, inhaling deeply before brushing his lips against my skin. I shudder, surprised by the action, but I’m definitely not complaining about this sudden rush of affection from him.

“I didn’t take you for, umm, warm?” I admit finally, trying to keep my anxiety out of my voice. After all, I certainly don’t want to piss him off.

“And cuddly?” he finishes with a scoff, and nips at my throat. “Val would disagree with you. And before it really crosses your mind, I’m not just touching you so I can fuck you, darling. You’re tired and so am I.” He tugs the soft blanket off of the back of the sofa and drapes it over both of us. “So do me the supreme favor ofnottrying to run away today, all right? It’ll really ruin the mood, and all the work I put into untangling your hair.”

“I’ll consider it.” I sniff, unable to help relaxing against him even just a little bit. “And I’ll get back to you at a later date on my decision.” My words make him scoff, and I turn my head towatch the TV, not really sure what’s even happening as a woman stutters and stammers and gestures toward the camera.

I don’t actually care, as it turns out. And my ambivalence reminds me how much I need to catch up on real sleep, given the past few days of physical exhaustion and emotional trauma I’ll probably never quite recover from if they don’t kill me here.

“I’ll be really disappointed if you kill me,” I remark, my voice betraying my drowsiness. But if Kieran answers, I don’t hear it. While I promise myself that I’m only resting my eyes and not sleeping, once they’re closed, I find it impossible to reopen them again.

10

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