Page 17 of Captivating

If you’re lucky, it’s always with you. In your head and your soul.

Keeping you safe and sound and sane.

Not that I feel sane or sound or safe.

Nope. I’ve been robbed. Metaphorically speaking.

I’ve spent the better part of the past twelve months having this house built. Painstakingly picking out every last detail. From the beautiful black-and-white checkered tile floor in my music room, to the trim work on the walls, and every single oversized window that looks out onto the ten acres surrounding my house. Acres and acres of Christmas trees because I wanted open windows and open porches and open balconies with beautiful French doors. But I also wanted privacy. I wanted escapism, and this house, to me, is escapism at its finest. I get to be free and private and not feel like I’m constantly being watched and judged while also feeling like I’m not being boxed in.

What a joke. I’ve been put in a box my whole life.

I know. Poor little rich girl. The oldest daughter of one of the best quarterbacks the NFL has ever seen and one of the most successful romance authors to ever put her fingers against a keyboard. Must have been a really hard life.

Truth be told, it wasn’t.

It was idyllic.

How many people can say they grew up in a happy, loving, well-adjusted family, with two parents who loved them and each other? We like to tease Mom and Dad that maybe they love each other a little too much. But really, seeing the way Dad still likes to squeeze Mom’s ass when he thinks we’re not watching gives me hope that I’ll have that one day. Though, I could go the rest of my life without overhearing them doing whatever they like to do when they sneak away, which is whenever they think they can get away with it. Good lord, who knew you could be that hotfor each other after almost thirty years? Yup. Thirty. They were high-school sweethearts too.

I used to think that would be me.

The high-school sweethearts who grew old together.

I mean... that’s what I thought when I was fifteen. It took me a year to put it out there to see if the sweetheart I loved felt the same. I thought he did. I still think the fucker did. But for such a badass, scary guy, apparently love and commitment are the two things that scared him. That would explain all the other girls henoticedin school. I was his best friend. I was who he hung out with. I was the one cheering him on at his wrestling meets and MMA tournaments. We were study buddies. We were confidants. We were everything. But it turns out, we were actually nothing at all.

We were everything until we were nothing at all.

That’s not too bad.

I grab my phone and sing the lyric into my app before jotting it down into my notes. My fingers sliding over the keys again, this time to the melody playing in my head. The one rudely interrupted when the front door opens, jolting me momentarily until I hear my brother’s laughter.

I grab my hoodie and toss it on over my tank, padding my way down the hall to the front door, then stop short, expecting to see Noah walking in. Not prepared for Killian to be next to him.

“Don’t you have a house?” I ask before I hear how nasty it sounds. Nasty, even for me.

Killian stands tall, his broad shoulders taking up the entire doorframe as Noah pushes past him. “I have a penthouse.Thanks. Would you rather I let Noah drive home after a few too many drinks, princess?”

Noah coughs the fakest cough ever and walks toward me. “Just hear him out, Tink. I’m going to bed.”

“What?” Killian and I both ask as my brother slaps us both on the back.

“You,”—he points at Killian—“work it out.” Then he turns my way, his blue eyes softening. “And you...” Noah runs his hands up my arms. “Try listening to him for a change. Really listen, Tink. Because it’s your life, and we’re running out of options.” He drops a kiss on the top of my head and walks up the winding staircase, gripping the wrought-iron banister like he’s afraid he’ll fall to his death without it.

I shift on my feet and watch Noah until he’s out of sight. Because I don’t know what else to do or say, I stay silent until the quiet snick of my front door locking behind Killian before he turns my way knocks me from my frozen trance. “What in the world is he talking about?”

I nearly get lost watching Killian’s Adam’s apple working as he swallows, then licks his lips. I don’t even think he realizes what he’s doing. His eyes take in every inch of my bare legs but stop on my... chest. What the hell?

I snap my fingers in front of his face. “My eyes are up here, champ.”

“Nice hoodie.” His voice is thick and delicious. Raspy.

This is why I avoid him.

These kinds of thoughts are not an option.

“It’s a million years old. Why are you still here?” I fold my arms over my chest, which if I’m honest, does little to take his eyes off my boobs because I’ve just pushed them up. Dillan might have gotten Mom’s ass, but I got her boobs.

“I know exactly how old it is, Tink. It’s mine,” he growls.

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