Page 90 of Pretty When He Bleeds

Kill’s expression flickers, but he just nods. “Then you have no excuse. Let’s go.”

I almost say no. Almost tell him I just want to go home, shower, crawl into bed, and forget about everything. But it’s Killian, and if anyone knows when I need to talk before I even realize it myself, it’s him.

So I nod. “Yeah. Alright.”

We head out to the diner, slipping into our usual booth in the back. The place is packed with students, the air thick with the smell of grease and coffee. Killian orders for both of us, not bothering to ask what I want because he already knows.

Then he leans forward, arms resting on the table, his overly perceptive blue eyes locked onto mine.

“Spill.” I hesitate and he tilts his head. “Rome.”

I exhale hard, rubbing a hand over my face.

And I tell him everything.

About Damon’s break. The voices. The hospital stay. The therapy. Killian doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, his jaw ticking, his fingers tightening around his soda.

Then I tell him about Caleb, about the secret I’ve been keeping. The way he started hearing things, the way I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too fucking late. The way Damon’s confession hit me like a bullet straight to the fucking chest.

By the time I finish, my throat is tight and my burger is untouched. Killian breathes out slowly, shaking his head. “Jesus, Rome. You’ve been sitting with this the entire time?”

I laugh weakly, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah.”

He leans back, running a hand through his blond hair. “And how are you?”

I blink. “What?”

He raises an eyebrow. “How are you, Rome? You good?”

“No,” I let out a breath. “Not even fucking close.”

Killian nods like he expected that. “You love him?”

The question knocks the air out of me and I look away, swallowing hard. “Yeah, and I told him, too.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and he leans back in the booth, letting out a low whistle. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” I say, my fingers curling against the tabletop. “And he—fuck, Kill, he looked at me like I was speaking another fucking language. Like it didn’t make sense to him. Like Icouldn’tlove him. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t fucking believe me.”

He exhales through his nose, rubbing his jaw. “Because he doesn’t think he deserves it.”

My stomach knots. “I know that, but—”

“But it still fucking hurts,” Killian finishes for me, nodding. “Yeah. I get it.”

I stare at my hands, my fingers twitching with frustration. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make him believe it.”

Killian shrugs. “You don’t. You just keep showing up for him until he does.”

I let out a breath, shaking my head. “It’s not that simple.”

“No, it’s not,” Killian agrees. “But he isn’t simple, Rome. You knew that before you ever fucking touched him.”

I press my lips together, my jaw tight.

Killian sighs. “Look, man. Damon’s been through shit, that much is clear. The kind of shit that makes a guy think love is some impossible fucking thing. He’s not just gonna wake up one day and be like,‘Oh, yeah, Roman Bishop loves me. That makes sense.’”

I groan, rubbing my hands over my face. “So what the fuck do I do?”

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