Page 43 of Falling for a Killer

Okay, maybe this is a little more than a man flu.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I promise, getting up to get my purse and the handgun I took from the safe before stepping toward the door. Glancing back, I see Killian staring at me with a frown that feels like he isn’t sure if he’ll ever see me again. “I’ll miss you.”

This is him letting me go, in his own way. Accepting that once I start my car and leave, I may never come back. He’s trusting me — to come back, not to call the cops if I do leave — and I’m not sure I deserve it. What have I done, really, but keep him at arm’s length?

“I’ll miss you too.”

It feels like the only truth I can give him as I walk out the door and close it behind me. This is freedom like I haven’t known it in months. It seems so silly, so inconsequential. I’m just running to the store as so many people do without thinking. Yet every step I take, every mile I drive reminds me that I have an option now when I didn’t before.

But do I really?

Ryan is still out there. The police still don’t believe he’s a danger to me. The cabin here in Windwinter is arguably the only place I’ll ever truly be safe from him, even if there is a fugitive lying on the couch. Yet returning to the cabin means putting my life back in Killian’s hands, a man who kidnapped me. A man who is currently the subject of a massive nationwide manhunt. A man who proved already that justice is more important to him than his own life.

Rock, meet hard place.

My mind seems to be somewhere else as I walk around the store throwing random things into the cart. It’ll be moot if I decide not to go back, so I’m only half paying attention until it’s time to check out.

I still haven’t made up my mind, but standing here like an idiot isn’t helping anyone. Deciding to just pay for the stuff anddecide once I get to the end of the driveway, I finally look at what I actually picked up.

A heating pad, three different types of medicine, six cans of soup, immune support gummies, and I apparently went a little overboard in the candy aisle. I remember him saying he likes Hershey’s Hugs, orange slices and peach rings, I just don’t know what I was thinking with the marshmallow peanuts. I’ve only ever had them at the circus, but maybe that’s fitting. My life is a bit of a circus right now.

Once she rings up all of that plus the Gatorade, thermometer, tissues, and barbecue chips, I load it all into my car and go right back to staring at my steering wheel. He’ll love it all, I know that. He’ll be grateful and attentive and doting the moment he’s feeling better, and adorable until then.

But nothing will change. We’ll still be in the same complicated situation. I’ll go right back to being a prisoner, wondering how long we can go on like this before the feds close in on him or my parents return from overseas. It’s better to just leave now. I could drop off his care package and drive away again, maybe go to my sister’s or start over somewhere new.

The pang of regret in my chest makes me pause.

Could I do that, really? Leave and never see him again? I’d miss him, even I have to admit that. I’d never see his eyes again, the cut of his jaw, the sprawling tattoos. The way his hair falls in his eyes or his shoulders shake when he laughs. I’d never see his mischievous smile or the devotion on his face when he has me right where he wants me.

I’d also never open up to anyone again. Being vulnerable with him has been hard, but I knew from the first time we had sex that if we weren’t completely honest with each other, things would go south fast. So no matter how uncomfortable or embarrassing it was, I was honest about my feelings and what I needed.

And he listened.

I went from dreading spending time with him to loving every second. To being more at peace on the couch with him than I ever have been with anyone else. I care about his opinions, his interests, and he cares about mine.

Can I really walk away from that? From him?

Yes, I can. I know I can. But how long will it take before I regret it?

About thirty-seven seconds.

Grumbling to myself, I make the three-mile trek down the driveway and park my car, knowing damned well I’m not leaving him, this cabin, or whatever fucked up future we may have in store for us. It doesn’t matter. The end result is inconsequential in the face of the things I could experience along the way. All love ends in heartbreak or death, there’s no secret third option. No one’s story has a happy ending when the final chips fall.

So maybe I should just... fall.

My stomach is in nervous knots as I carry the bags to the door and make my way inside.

Twenty-One:

Nurse Roo

Killian

Joey’s the best nurse I’ve ever had.

When I wake up to her checking my temperature, I swear my heart flutters at the sight of her. She came back. Somehow I knew she would. I know she feels what I feel, so I refuse to let my insecurities get the best of me here. I figured if she left I’d have to mend my heart, and if she turned me in I’d have to do the same... just in jail. But she told me she’d come back and I believed her.

And here she is.

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