Page 48 of Killian (The Doherty Mafia)
“Killian, I need to know why you’re doing this,” she said.
I turned to her, not sure what she was asking.
“Why you’re torturing yourself and me in the process. What happened to your mother was not your fault,” she said.
* * *
I stared at her. Almost blankly.
Reese had just answered a question I hadn’t asked her. A question I hadn’t asked anybody yet.
I’d always wanted to know the answer to it though.
Was it my fault?
Did I do it? Did I kill my mother?
What could I have done to stop her murder? What could I have done differently to protect her? What would my father have done if he was in the house that night?
Did my family trust me since that night?
Reese watched me intently while I just stood there, unmoving.
“Killian.” She said my name very softly, walking towards me. Her voice was like a soothing balm. It was like I had all these burning wounds on my body I wasn’t even aware of.
She didn’t touch me, but was close enough to do it if she wanted to.
“You have to allow yourself to love again.”
I met her eyes in surprise. What was she saying?
That she loved me?
Did I love her?
Would I ever admit it?
Reese didn’t look away.
“I know what you had to go through was horrible. I lost a mother too. I’ve lost other people. I know what it feels like. But that doesn’t mean I can never love again. I have to accept the fact that their deaths weren't my fault.”
Was she putting the same magic spell on me that she did on Isabelle? She was really good at it, because I was actually starting to see reason now. What she said made sense.
“You were very young, Killian. You were outnumbered. More importantly, you were asleep. You can’t change those facts.”
She hit the nail on the head with every word. I was so taken aback by how accurate she was that I had goosebumps on my arms.
I could feel her breath falling on me. I just wanted to hold her. I needed to feel her touch.
“You’re a man now. You’re braver, stronger and wiser. You can protect the people you love. You just have to let yourself love.”
I wished I could ask her what she meant. Did she think I was in love with her? Was she in love with me?
How fucked up was that?
A part of me wanted to protest and declare I didn’t have feelings for her. She was being stupid by making that assumption. It was the defensive part of me. The one that wanted to protect myself.
There was also the other part of me that wanted to pull her in and kiss her because of how beautiful she was. Because of how accurately she understood me.
Nobody before her had the balls to talk to me like this.
Somehow, Reese knew exactly what to say.
Just then my phone rang and once again, I saw my father’s name on the screen.
“Shit.” I cursed under my breath.
He was going to want to know if I made progress. If I’d found Reese. I would have to say no to both those questions.
I had a feeling I was walking on thin ice at this point—as far as my family was concerned.
* * *
I took the phone call in my bedroom this time.
I didn’t want a repeat of last time when Reese overheard what I was saying.
The phone call was good timing because our conversation had gotten too intense back there. I needed a break from her and all the things she had to say.
“Yes,” I spoke gruffly into the phone.
“Listen, son, I thought you needed to hear this from me. Connor is dead.” My father spoke abruptly. I tried to look for any hidden emotions in that statement but none appeared.
I couldn’t tell if he was going to be negatively and emotionally affected by his brother’s death.
“Fuck,” I growled.
This was good news. It was exactly what I needed to hear, but I wasn’t expecting it to happen this soon. It was a fuckin’ relief.
I sat down with a thump on the edge of my bed.
“Yeah, apparently they did everything they could to keep him going. He even came out of his coma.”
I stopped moving when I heard those words. Connor came out of his coma? For how long? What did he say? Those were the questions I wanted the answers to, but I had to tread carefully.
I didn’t want to make my father suspicious.
“Okay. Well, that’s shit. I guess we need to arrange a funeral.” I tried to keep it cool.
My father sighed and I could picture him shaking his head.
“Yeah, fuck that, what I care about more is finding out what really happened to him that night.”
“I’m working on it,” I replied.
“And yet, I don’t see any progress.”
There was something in the tone of my father’s voice that suggested he may have known more than he was letting on.
