Page 96 of Beneath Your Beautiful
“Yeah, I remember. But you weren’t listening because you asked, ‘What?’”
His head popped out, and he stood and turned on the faucet. Apparently, he’d fixed whatever problem I hadn’t noticed existed because he turned off the water and packed up his tools, satisfied with his work. He came to stand between my legs and ran his hands up my thighs. I watched his blue eyes darken as his hands continued their journey, all talk of the party forgotten. I wrapped my arms around his neck and asked him to repeat what I said. He did, and he got it right, but he used fewer words to convey the message.
“So, why did you play dumb?” I asked.
“I didn’t. You never told me about this party. Neither did Zeke or Brody.”
“It’s an impromptu thing. They decided last night. They told me to tell you.”
He raised his brows. “And did you?”
Ooops. “Uh huh. Five minutes ago.”
“Sounds like a communication breakdown.”
“Hmm. How can I make it up to you?”
He nuzzled my neck and murmured, “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He brushed a kiss on my jawbone, and then his lips met mine. My legs cinched around his waist as he deepened the kiss, and my body responded the same way it always did with him. I craved him like a drug I could never get enough of. I was starting to understand addiction because Killian was quickly becoming mine.
“Pretend I’m not here,” Connor said. I pulled away from Killian and looked over his shoulder at Connor who scrubbed his hand over his hair and yawned. Connor slept a lot, I’d noticed, and I wondered if it had something to do with giving up drugs. Like Killian, he was shirtless and wearing nothing but cargo shorts. After being in Florida for five months, his skin was bronzed darker than Killian’s. I had to say the view of Connor’s torso wasn’t bad either.
Connor stuck his head in the fridge, slammed it shut, opened, and closed every cupboard, and returned to the fridge, as if he was expecting something new and different to jump out at him. I could save him the trouble of looking for something quick and easy. Everything in this house was healthy and required cooking or preparation. There was no junk food, no empty carbs, and nothing with refined sugar.
Having reached the same conclusion, Connor grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and guzzled it. “What are you guys up to?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“We’re going to an impromptu chill-fest.” Without thinking it through, I invited Connor to join us.
“Ava gonna be there?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I’m coming.”
Uh oh.
Killian turned around to face Connor and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just so we’re clear, do not drag Eden or me into your drama.” Connor opened his mouth to speak, but Killian held up his hand to stop him. “I work with these guys. So, keep your mouth shut about my personal life.”
Connor adopted the same crossed-arm pose. “I never told anyone outside this room jack shit, and you know it. What happened with Seamus was a long time coming and I apologized to Eden and I apologized to you. But I’m not sorry I said it. He needs to be reminded of what he did. If you want to move on from something, you can’t bury it inside. You need to shine the light on it. You need to work through it before you can let it go.”
That was very true, and I thought Connor was brave and smart for voicing it. I sat still, barely breathing, as they faced off. This could go either way but neither of them backed off or stalked away which was a good sign. Neither of them said a word for a few long moments either. Killian’s shoulders were rigid, and I could feel the tension rolling off him.
“You learn this in your NA meetings?” Killian asked finally.
“Yeah, I did.”
Killian lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay.”
Connor nodded. “Okay.”
And that was the end of it. They’d made their peace, and Connor pulled a frying pan out of the cupboard and eggs out of the refrigerator. He stuck birdseed bread in the toaster and asked us if we wanted any food, which we declined. I went upstairs to get ready, and Killian found a few odd jobs to do around the house. At one fifty-five, Killian joined me in the bedroom, donned a shirt and shoes, packed a duffel with our work clothes, and it was time to go.
No major drama occurred on the drive to the chill-fest or at the chill-fest itself. We hung out on Zeke and Brody’s patio, drinking Zeke’s special watermelon slammers on a sunny September day, with a reggae soundtrack that gave the whole atmosphere a chilled, happy vibe. Zeke’s washed-out orange T-shirt said “Life is Good,” and as I looked around at my friends, laughing and talking, and at Killian whose arm was slung over my shoulder while we talked to Brody about his world travels, I couldn’t agree more.
Life was good.
“What’s your favorite place for a vacation?” Killian asked later, when were behind the bar, chopping fruit.
“The beach.”
