Page 111 of Kill for a Kiss

“Elle…” he whispers. And before I can say anything back, he kisses me.

Because this is Stan, I kiss him back, however messy our feelings have become in the aftermath of his mother’s manipulations.

He tastes familiar in a way that sends a chill down my spine. Because this… This isn’t new. It’s Kys. It’s memory. It’s the exact sensation I remember from the cold, sterile room in the mansion. From his bed. From mine.

My heart flutters. But I don’t pull away. Because I want to know. I want to feel the difference. And for a second, just a second, I can’t. It feels the same. The same hunger. The same ache. The same, devastating sweetness of a hazy high I’d shaken off with Sterling’s help. And when Stan says against my lips, “I missed having you to myself,” I realize he hasn’t. He’s still there, somewhere, in the fog.

We part from the kiss, breathless. Lips tingling. Hearts burning. But the second I open my eyes, I see his pain. Stan doesn’t sayanything at first. He simply breathes heavy and slow, like he’s trying not to come apart. Then, finally, his voice drops, almost silent. So unlike him that, if he had silver hair, I might have confused him for Sterling under the dim moonlight.

“So this morning, I woke up in bed with you two…” He laughs bitterly. “Felt like a fucking punch.”

I blink. “Stan—”

“You were on top of him,” he goes on, smiling without joy. “And he was holding you. And I…” He scoffs softly. “I felt like a ghost. Some guest who overstayed his welcome, in the bed the three of us shared.”

My throat tightens, but he doesn’t stop.

“I know you’ve been trying to make space for me. Letting me in.” His sad smile widens. “You’re good at that, Elle. So good you make people feel like they matter.”

He looks at me now, and my eyes instantly sting. Tears gather. They blur my vision of him.

“But I see it, even if you don’t,” he whispers, pained. “You’ve already made your choice.”

It feels like I’m suffocating. I shake my head at his words. I’m not ready to hear him say this.

“It’s Sterling,” he says, the most beautiful name fractured in his voice. “It was always only going to be him.”

He sighs, long and labored. I look down and let the tears fall as I frown, knowing it’s true. It’s been true, but I didn’t mean to hurt Stan in the process.

“I saw it the second you looked at him.” Stan sounds happy for me. I can’t handle it. “It was like you finally found your home.”

“Stan…” I whisper. His hand wipes my tears away.

“I’m not mad. Or—fuck, maybe I am—but not at you. I’m mad at myself. For not getting to you sooner. For letting her—” He swallows hard. “For letting her twist us into whatever the hell that was.”

He cradles my face and turns me. After he sweeps the rest of my tears away, he pulls back with an achingly warm smile that twists my heart.

Slowly, he strips his shirt off. Then carefully, he brings my hands to his chest. The tattoo’s still fresh, still healing. A single letter inked over his heart in sweeping cursive.

Efor me. When it shouldn’t be. When his words and his eyes are baring his soul and heart to me. When I’ve done nothing to deserve it. I’mashamedto wring such pain out of those gray eyes that usually smile so effortlessly that it lights up even the coldest spaces.

“I got this before I even knew who I was without shit in my system,” he says, staring at me. “Before I knew what was real. Before I knew if you really wanted me, or if I just wanted you so bad I made myself believe you did.”

Everything hurts from hearing his heart break right in front of me. When I don’t want it to. I never wanted it to. If I could keep holding him together, I would.

“I branded myself with this letter,” he says, full of ache, “because even if it was all fake, I still felt it. I still fuckingfeelit, Elle.”

My free hand reaches to cup his cheek, but he jerks his head away, shaking it.

“I didn’t save you,” he whispers, breath shuddering like it hurts to speak. “I didn’t pull you out. I let you stay in that awful place with me ‘cause I was too afraid of what she’d do to me. To you. And I don’t get to keep you after that.”

“Stan—”

“I love you,” he says, sudden and raw. “I love you so goddamn much I would’ve stayed her loyal, drugged-up dog if it meant keeping you. I would’ve lived in that lie forever just to see you point your smile at me.”

More tears spill down my cold cheeks, and I can’t stop them.

“I know we were drugged out of our minds,” he says, nodding with a grimace. “I know that. But it doesn’t make this any easier.”