Page 37 of Killian (The Doherty Mafia)
Maybe last night was just a mirage.
* * *
Isabelle sat in my car next to me, shaking. I’d given her my jacket and she had it tightly wrapped over her shoulders. I’d parked the car outside my cabin in the woods, but neither of us had stepped out yet.
The phone was ringing as I held it to my ear. My brother Colin answered a few moments later.
“I have Isabelle with me. The motherfucker left her alone in the house after he punched her.”
“Where is he?” Colin growled.
“I didn’t go looking for him. I brought Isabelle back to my place. You need to go and take care of him.”
“I’m on it,” Colin said. The call ended.
I turned to my sister, feeling weakened by the sight of her shuddering like that.
Her left eye was badly bruised, but she claimed she could see fine through it. There was a nasty wound on her upper lip where his knuckle met her face. The bleeding had stopped but it looked like it would need some time to recover.
She just sat there shaking her head like she still couldn’t believe it. When I got to the house, she was in the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee.
“I just don’t want Ma to see me like this. She’s going to lose her head worrying,” she whispered.
I put a hand on her knee and squeezed.
“Nobody is telling Cynthia what happened, but you have to know we’re taking care of it. That asshole shouldn’t have touched a hair on your head, and now he’s going to pay for what he did.”
Isabelle gasped and looked out of the window.
“So what happens now? I don’t want any fuss with doctors.”
“There won’t be any doctors, but I have someone who’ll take care of you.”
“Who?” She turned to me, narrowing her eyes.
Isabelle knew very well that I always lived alone. I was addicted to my privacy and solitude.
“A girl,” I replied.
She didn’t seem to buy that answer.
“Which girl? Who is it?”
“You’ll get to meet her in a few minutes,” I replied. But the thing was—I wasn’t even sure if Reese would be in there. There was a good chance she’d already run away.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something, Killian?” Isabelle continued.
I shrugged.
“I’m not hiding anything. I’m taking you inside to introduce you to the girl who stayed with me last night.”
“You let a girl spend the night with you?”
I shrugged again.
“You really like her or something?”
“She had nowhere else to go.”
“And who made you the family’s good Samaritan?”
Isabelle tried to laugh but winced when it stung her lip to do so.
“This is what you get for being a bitch,” I said, patting her back affectionately. “Now, get your ass out of my car and into my house. Your lip is probably going to need stitches, so you better prepare yourself for that.”
* * *
When we went inside, Reese was waiting for us in the kitchen. She’d freshly brewed some coffee and made sandwiches with whatever she found in the fridge.
“Oh!” Isabelle exclaimed, but I couldn’t tell if she knew who this was.
“Hi,” Reese said. She was reluctant to introduce herself, but peered with concern at my sister’s face.
“I usually don’t look as shit as this,” Isabelle replied. She tried to smile again but it hurt her face.
“Don’t worry about it. Just sit down here. Eat something.” Reese was warm towards her. In a way that I wasn’t expecting her to be. I figured it was her nursing instincts that immediately kicked in.
“My brother refuses to tell me anything about you, so I literally don’t know who you are.”
“We can talk about me later, right now, I need to know how I can help you. Do you mind if I have a closer look at you?”
Isabelle sat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Reese proceeded to kneel down in front of her so she could better look at the wounds.
I stood back, watching the two of them and how natural this felt. Reese wasn’t behaving the way a prisoner should have, and Isabelle had warmed to her immediately.
They spoke in whispers, as Isabelle described the attack. It made me furious to listen to it. She hadn’t even told me in detail what Brayden did to her, but she seemed to be happy to open up to Reese. The whole time, Reese examined her, including staring into her pupils and trying to ascertain whether she was concussed.
Eventually, she turned to me. I tried to hide the rage coursing through my veins, but I was sure she’d noticed it.
“I’ll need a few things. Do you have a first aid kit?”
“Yes.”
I left the room to go find the kit and the other things she said she’d need. I could hear their voices in the kitchen. They were talking like they’d been friends for years. Isabelle was telling her about Brayden and how unpredictable he was.
