Page 18

I’ve always been a cautiously curious person. I’m nosey, but I know better than to ask questions about things I may not want answers to. I also acknowledge the fact that when I probe a little too much, people probe back. Usually that’s a dealbreaker for me.

But as I watch him flip mindlessly through tv channels trying to find something worth watching, I have to admit to myself that I have questions.

What was he like as a child? Was his hair always this dark, this unruly? What prompted his tattoos? What’s the story with his dad? Why doesn’t he have friends? What did he do for a living before this, and was he happy?

A thousand more flood my mind until one finally tumbles out of my mouth. “What’s your happiest memory?”

His finger freezes on the remote as his gaze flicks to mine. “Like ever?”

He turns the tv off completely and leans so his body faces me better, giving me a little more confidence.

“Yeah, I guess. I just... what makes you happy?”

He glances down at his hands for a moment before smiling softly. “When I was ten my mom took me on our first vacation. We were broke as hell but we drove up the pacific coast highway and visited a bunch of beaches. Slept in the car and survived on gas station food. It wasn’t perfect, but it was probably my first memory of her smiling. At the end of it she told me I wouldn’t ever see my dad again, and I could tell she was so fucking nervous, but I’ve never felt more relieved. We pulled up a map and chose to start over again in Blackridge.”

Curiosity is a rabbit hole. I can picture it, him as a little boy, just happy to be along for the ride. In awe of how big the world is. But am I ready to know what sort of horrible things would make a ten year old boy relieved to never see his dad again? “She sounds like a great mom.”

“She was. What about your parents? You guys close?”

He pats the spot closest to him like he wants me closer during this conversation, like that doesn’t make it worse. Like it doesn’t make us both more vulnerable.

But like a moth to a flame, I move next to him anyway. “We weren’t when I was younger, but now that I’m older, things are different. I love my parents and I know they’d do anything for me.”

“I’m glad things are different now. Were you and your sister always close?”

I sit next to him and lean back against his chest, watching his fingers as they ghost slowly on mine, grounding me.

“Yep. Always. I don’t know what I’d do without her,” I admit. “I haven’t always had a lot of friends. Have... you?”

“Yes and no,” he admits with a sigh. “In high school I had a lot of friends, but they weren’t anything real. Outside of girls and sports, we didn’t even really have things in common or things to talk about, so we’d just drink and stick to those two topics. Even then it was boring for me, but I didn’t realize I needed more from people until I was in my twenties. Most of them had faded away by that point, but I had one dude I considered my best friend until my mom died. I get it, I wasn’t fun to be around, but he went off on me one night when he thought I was black-out drunk and we were both surprised I remembered every word he said to me. There wasn’t really any going back from that, and I wasn’t in a good headspace to care. I just ditched my phone and never talked to anyone again. That was less than a year ago, but I still feel the same. I don’t have it in me to care. I don’t know what that says about me.”

That’s heavy. I never really had best friends to lose, so I can’t say I understand how that feels, but I can guess. “I don’t think it says anything about you. People can be selfish to a catastrophic degree, and when everyone around you disappoints you, it can be hard to care.” That much, I do understand. “I’m sorry that this world has been so cruel to you.”

“The world is cruel to a lot of people, Roo. Most have it worse than me, but I appreciate you saying that all the same. I thought I was done with humans as a whole, but you proved me wrong. I’m not done with them all, I’m just done with the ones that aren’t willing to meet me halfway. So was Ryan your only ex? I can’t remember if I ever asked that.”

Chuckling, I shake my head. “No, but he was the best and the worst all at once. The rest... just faded.”

His fingers freeze. “The best?”

Is that jealousy, Killian?

“Of my ex -boyfriends, yes,” I say firmly. “He was the only one who convinced me marriage wasn’t a terrible idea, anyway.”

He’s quiet a moment before his hand resumes its gentle caress. “Maybe I shot the wrong person.”

Despite the butterflies that gives me, he’s wrong. “You shot the right person. Ryan isn’t worth either one of us spending the rest of our lives in prison. His life isn’t even worth the cost of the bullet.”

His body relaxes a little further. “Would be nice if he no longer existed, but you’re probably right. It’d still be nice if I got to kick his ass one day for what he did.”

Leaning closer, I kiss his cheek. “He hurt me in ways I never thought I’d recover from, but here I am, recovering.”

The smile that takes over his face is mesmerizing. “Yeah... me too. My ex turned me off from dating altogether, but the more time that passes with us here shows me it doesn’t have to be so... hot and cold.”

And this is why curiosity is dangerous. We’re not dating. Hell, I’m technically still his prisoner, and here he is talking like we met at a bar. “What were you scared of when you were little?”

Humming, he contemplates that response for a moment before chuckling. “When I was a kid, I was scared of cats. My mom and I got one once we got settled, but before we moved to Idaho I thought they were evil because there was one that used to sit outside my window and stare inside at night.”

“Maybe he just wanted a friend.”

“Yeah, I learned that. I thought he was there to eat my eyeballs because that’s what my dad said, but one night I shared my dinner with it. I don’t actually know if it was a girl or a boy cat so I just named it Catty. Our family cat later was Pikachu because I honestly thought that damn Pokémon was a cat for hella long, but after I realized he was a mouse I felt stupid as hell. Oh, I was also scared of grasshoppers,” he says with a laugh. “They’re fucking creepy. What about you?”

“Grasshoppers?” It takes me a second to recover from that, but when I do, I don’t know what to tell him. “I was scared of everything. Violet was always the brave one, not me. I was scared of animals, shadows, fire, water, anything that could kill me, gross me out, or hurt me. She used to get so mad at me for it.”

“That’s honestly cute as hell.” He’s laughing at me, but I can tell he means it. “How about your favorite memory? I shared mine.”

That’s a tough one for me. I’ve been very lucky, very privileged in my life up until recently. I’ve had a lot of good memories. “Probably when my niece was born. Violet was a hellion during birth, but seeing the joy on her face when she held her baby girl for the first time... knowing I had someone in this world to protect and love? It changed me. It felt like the world got a lot bigger and smaller all at once, but it suddenly had meaning.”

“That’s beautiful. I wish I could know how it feels to be an uncle one day. Do you want kids?”

“I did, once.” It’s harder to look at him now, but I do it anyway. “But Ryan didn’t want kids, and now... I’m older, and life is complicated. I’m not sure anymore. What about you?”

“I used to think no because I didn’t want to be a dad like mine, but now I don’t know. The fact that I would leave nothing behind in the world crossed my mind when I thought I might be caught and shot by police, and I guess I didn’t like that. Is that a dumb reason? It feels dumb. The world is fucked up, why bring someone into this just because you want to create a human that will always be a piece of you?”

It’s a good question, one I’ve thought about myself. “Why do humans do anything? To leave the world better than we found it. For some people, that means searching for cures to diseases or trying to save the planet. For others, it’s space exploration, creating better infrastructure, becoming a teacher. You chose to strike down an evil man, and some people choose to have children in hopes that one day, they’ll be the ones changing the world. I don’t think it’s selfish at all. I think it’s survival. We want to be remembered.”

He nods his head for a few seconds, staring straight ahead like he’s lost in thought. “So if my nightmares come true, do you promise to remember me?”

Fuck. I didn’t expect this conversation to make me cry, but my eyes fill with tears anyway. No one should ever have to ask that question. I’d like to tell him it won’t happen, that he’ll be fine. That isn’t what he needs to hear right now. “Yes, Killian Rhys Blake. I’ll remember you. And I’ll make sure the world knows why.”

He squeezes me a little tighter after that, but immediately tries to lighten the mood. “Sweet. Let them know I was a good father to Gus.”

I will, but something tells me his story isn’t over yet. No one knows it was him, and once the story fades from the headlines, he’ll be free to go have an army of children to remember him by.

And if not... I’ll make the world remember.