Page 28 of Cruel When He Smiles (Sinners of Blackthorne U #3)

Nate

The sun’s a little too bright for my mood, but it’s not enough to make me leave.

I’m not sure what I expected when I agreed to this.

Maybe a house full of blasting music, half-naked people hanging off balconies, and red Solo cups bleeding across the lawn.

That’s the kind of chaos the Sin Bin is known for, the kind that always makes my skin itch and my guard snap into place like armor I never take off.

But the moment Sage and I step through the back door, I realize this isn’t that.

It’s quiet in a way I didn’t expect. Laidback.

The grill’s on, the scent of char and spice heavy in the air.

Someone’s playing a playlist from a speaker, but it’s more vibe than volume.

There’s maybe a dozen people spread out across the lawn and patio—the ten athletes I recognize instantly, all part of the Sin Bin circus, and a few others who must be friends or partners.

No one’s falling into the pool. No one’s drunk off their ass. And the most shocking thing? No one’s trying to be the center of attention.

I adjust my sunglasses, eyes sweeping the scene with slow caution as Sage turns to face me, his prescription sunglasses catching the sun in a way that hides most of his expression, but I know that look. He’s waiting to see if I’ll bolt. My stomach’s uneasy, but I breathe through it.

We’re both in boardshorts and tanks, our long hair down and probably already curling in the heat. Sage said it’d be chill, and I didn’t believe him. But maybe for once, he didn’t lie to get me out of the house.

A few people notice us and nod or say hey.

It’s not weirdly forced, not fake or hostile—just casual greetings, the kind you toss out to someone who’s not quite a stranger but definitely not a friend.

Beneath it all, my chest is tight, nerves coiled up just beneath the surface like they’re waiting to strike the second I see him.

I clock Liam’s figure the moment we step down from the back deck.

He’s seated with Ryan and Adrian, beer in hand, head tilted back in a low chuckle at something one of them says.

I ignore him, refuse to acknowledge him, even when my pulse screams for it.

I pretend the sudden awareness in my chest is just heat from the sun and not the magnetic weight of his silence.

If he’s going to pretend I’m invisible, then I’ll give him the same fucking courtesy.

Sage drifts closer to where Luca Devereaux is standing after Eli Matthews leaves his side. I spot the way Sage hesitates, then he walks straight over, and my heart twists.

“Back in a bit,” he says, tossing it over his shoulder without turning around.

I knew it was coming, but it still hits me wrong and leaves me standing there like a damn afterthought. I drag in a breath through my nose and head for the drinks table before I start picking fights just to feel something.

The cooler’s packed with soda cans, beer bottles, and a few random seltzers in pastel colors I wouldn’t touch even if I were dying.

I pop open a Coke and sip it slowly, letting the carbonation burn down the tight line of my throat.

My eyes scan the backyard while I lean against the edge of the table, trying not to let my gaze wander toward Liam again.

A few voices drift toward me—Roman Bishop in the pool with his backward cap and too-easy grin, Damien Moore making some smart comment about Adrian’s grilling technique.

Eli Matthews waves when he sees me and says something about a soccer game next week.

I nod and say thanks, despite not catching half of what he said.

It’s weird how no one’s being an asshole. No one’s mocking or poking. The air is easy, soft in a way that makes my spine stay stiff because I don’t trust it.

I hear the footsteps before I register the shadow, and when I glance up, Killian King is already walking toward me.

My hand tightens around the can. The last time I saw him was that night outside Liam’s door.

The way he looked at me then left an impression I haven’t been able to scrub out, but he’s not looking at me that way now.

He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of black boardshorts slung low on his hips and a silver chain that glints against his collarbone in the sunlight. His body’s cut in a way that makes it obvious he’s a hockey player—broad chest and strong arms, not bulky but carved.

There are scars trailing down his left side, pale lines against tan skin, and I don’t know what kind of damage put them there, but they don’t look new. A cigarette’s burning between his fingers, the scent faint as he approaches.

“Hey,” he says, his voice not laced with the muted threat from last time.

I nod, still wary. “Hey.”

Killian pauses a few feet away, then exhales slowly. “I wanted to apologize for the other night.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“That night you came to see Liam,” he says, gaze flicking to mine with unsettling precision. “I was a dick, I know. You didn’t deserve that.”

I stare at him, unsure if this is some weird test or setup. “Okay…”

He drags on the cigarette and exhales toward the lawn. “The guys in this house… they’re not just teammates, they’re like family. Some more than others. I don’t trust easily, so when someone new shows up—especially near Liam or Roman—I get protective. Overprotective, maybe.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t speak and sip my soda while I wait.

Killian shrugs, finally looking back at me. “I’m not asking you to understand it. Just figured I’d say sorry since I misread the situation.”

“I didn’t think you cared enough to misread anything,” I mutter before I can stop myself.

He huffs something close to a laugh. “Fair. I don’t care about most people. But Liam…” His jaw flexes, and he pauses again. “He’s different.”

“You’re close,” I say, not exactly a question.

Killian tilts his head. “You could say that.”

There’s a stretch of silence between us, but it doesn’t crackle with the same tension as before. It’s… quiet. Tentative. Like we’re both testing the air to see if it’ll turn hostile again.

He turns his head to look at the guys on the lawn, and I notice a tattoo behind his ear I hadn’t noticed that night. But now, with the sun hitting his jaw just right and his hair pushed back, I can see it clearly—XIII, inked small and neat, barely visible unless you’re paying attention.

“What’s the thirteen for?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Killian turns back to me and touches behind his ear, then drops his hand. “Personal reasons. Well, more of a reminder that some scars deserve to be permanent.”

I glance away, nodding once, my fingers curling tighter around the drink in my hand. “You always been close with Liam?” I ask after a beat, changing the subject.

Killian exhales smoke slowly and watches the swirl vanish into the breeze. “Yeah. Not by choice, at first. But now… I’d gut someone for him, if I had to.”

I nod, not sure what to do with that kind of loyalty. Not sure I’ve ever had it from anyone except Sage—and even that feels unsteady lately.

Killian looks at me again, one brow lifting slightly. “You got people like that?”

I stare down at the soda can. “Used to.”

He doesn’t push. Just takes one last drag from the cigarette and stubs it out in the ashtray near the drink table. “Well. You ever need backup, Carter… You know where the fuck to find me.”

I blink at him, unsure if I misheard, then smile. “You’re offering me backup, King?”

“Maybe I like chaos,” he says with a smirk, then steps back. “And maybe I think there’s more to you than just the brat Liam’s obsessed with.”

I stiffen. “He’s not obsessed with me.”

Killian smirks and lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Sure. If you say so.”

Then he walks off, his pace easy, like he’s done what he came to do, and now he’s giving me the space to figure out what the hell it meant.

I stand there for a long moment, heart ticking unevenly in my chest, and when I finally glance around, I spot Sage on the other side of the pool, still deep in conversation with Luca. They’re close, too close for comfort, and I force myself to look away.

It doesn’t matter. Not right now.

Because for the first time in weeks, I don’t feel like drowning. I’m still raw, still angry, still confused, but I’m here. I showed up. I didn’t spiral. And someone who I thought hated me just offered a sliver of understanding I didn’t expect.

I don’t know what that means.

But it’s something. And right now, that’s enough.