Page 29 of Killian (The Doherty Mafia)
But I knew I couldn’t snap like that. Connor was family and Dad was acting the way he would for any member of the family in a coma.
“Nothing’s changed. Someone will be at the hospital on shifts, so we’ll find out if there is any progress.”
He cursed.
“I just can’t wrap my head around this. The girl knocked you out. Then she shot Connor. Then she ran over him with the car?”
“I don’t think she did that. I was still in the car when I came to, and it was exactly where it was when we stopped,” I lied. My brain was running on overdrive, trying to figure out if I was giving any key evidence away. I needed to keep my story straight but it was getting harder and harder.
“So who hit him?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should have come straight to us. You should have called one of us,” he complained.
I rubbed a hand over my face, which muffled my voice.
“I was out of it. Okay? I was injured. I needed to go home.”
He cursed some more.
“Fine. But don’t you forget this is your responsibility, Killian. You need to get to the bottom of this. We are all waiting for some answers, and the less we can have the cops snooping around our business, the better.”
I grumbled a response and he ended the call.
Through the windscreen, I stared straight ahead at the car park.
It would be so easy for me to go back home, charge down the basement and pump two bullets into her head right now. It would solve everything. I wouldn’t have to worry about her talking. Someone finding her. Connor laying his grimy hands on her.
But I couldn’t do it.
Not yet.
I just needed some more time with her. I didn’t know how long.
And right now, when I felt like I was completely fucked in the head—the only thing I really wanted to do was go talk to her.
She had a unique ability of getting under my skin and turning me on at the same time. She challenged me and I grew to like that.
Throwing my phone to the backseat, I brought the engine to life and drove out of the hospital.
I hoped I wouldn’t have to come here again any time soon.
I had no interest in Connor’s health or wellbeing.
* * *
On the way back to the house, I stopped at a diner.
I was hungry and figured Reese would be too.
I arrived at the house and my first instinct was to go down to see her. I could have sat on the couch, drank a can of beer, changed and taken a shower. But I wasn’t interested in any of that. My need to see Reese again was very real.
She remained sitting in the corner of the room when I went down.
I wasn’t sure if I was just imagining it, but it seemed like her face brightened up when she saw me.
The last time we spoke, things got a bit intense and I wasn’t sure where her head was at. The thing was—I wanted to find out. I was actually interested in getting to know her.
And that was the part that made all of this very complicated.
“What’s that?” she asked when she saw the big paper bag in my hands.
“Food,” I replied, taking everything out and laying it on the floor between us.
There were burgers and fries, milkshakes and cookies. Enough for second helpings for each of us.
“Didn’t feel like cooking tonight?” she asked, grinning.
This time she didn’t pretend to not care. She lunged straight for a burger. I sat down across from her and helped myself to some of the fries.
I watched in silence as she took a few big bites and seemed to enjoy the food she was eating. She even went in for the milkshake and took a bite out of a big chocolate cookie.
“This is amazing,” she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment, as she savored each bite.
It brought a smile to my face.
“Now that you’ve had something to eat, I need you to keep talking,” I interrupted her moment of bliss.
Reese opened her eyes, staring at me with furrowed brows.
“Keep talking about what?”
“Your story.”
“There’s nothing more to tell.”
“You think I’m an idiot?”
She took another bite of her burger and shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”
I drank some milkshake and breathed in deeply.
“Okay, why don’t you tell me what you really want from your life. You told me you don’t care about marriage or love. You don’t believe in those relationships. But you must have had some dreams, right?”
Reese watched me speak, and a glaze came over her eyes. She gulped the lump in her throat, and I could sense she was thinking about something. Picturing something far away. Maybe it was a thing she didn’t imagine would ever come true.
“I don’t want you to laugh at this. I always wanted to be a nurse,” she admitted.
