20
Killian
I wake up feeling strange. I’m not in bed.
I’m in a bed. I’m just not in my bed.
The fuck?
I jackknife upright and see Violet’s large, dark eyes on me. She’s got her blanket pulled up to her neck. Her hair is spread out, framing her face by taking up the whole giant pillow. Her eyes are on me with alarm.
“What am I doing here?” I call out like an idiot, then I scrub my eyes with my palms. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” I throw the covers back and stand up.
I’m in just a pair of jersey sleep shorts and they’re tented with morning wood.
Fuck! At least I didn’t put my hands on her this time. Or did I?
“It’s okay,” she squeaks out.
“It’s not. I can explain.”
Her eyes are on my junk. Of course they are. It’s pointing right at her.
“I’ll explain when I’m dressed.”
Because I threw her blankets back, I see she’s in a little camisole, short shorts, no bra. I can make out her nipples. Shit. Fuck, but she’s got perfect legs. I see her navel, too. I need outta here.
“See you out there in a few. I’m gonna… go.”
She sits up so she can scoop the blanket back over herself to cover up and her hair is everywhere. And she looks fucking gorgeous.
I storm outta there.
***
I’m showered, dressed, and on my second cup of coffee when she emerges, looking tense, her big eyes on me.
She’s showered and dressed, too, in yoga clothes, but with makeup on her face. Her hair is damp, curly, and in a high ponytail. She looks cute. She looks like she’s ready to go dress-shopping.
I pour her a coffee and pass it to her before I speak.
She hikes herself up onto the island. I’m behind it, standing and with both my palms resting on the granite, eyes on her.
“I sleepwalk,” I state.
“I kinda figured,” she whispers, looking up at me just briefly before blowing into her mug. She’s flushed. She can’t look at me. I’m not surprised.
“I haven’t done it in years,” I tell her.
“Oh.”
I run my hand through my hair, not liking how frazzled I feel. She’s not flipping out here; why am I?
A long moment of awkward silence passes until she puts her mug down and gives me her full attention.
And it dawns that I really fuckin’ like the look of her sitting on that counter, eyes on me, teeth embedded into her lip.
“I did it when I was stressed as a kid. I… had some shit to deal with growin’ up and who doesn’t, right? I really didn’t wanna get into this. It’s highly personal so I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself, but I’d get worked up and it’d mean I go wandering in my sleep, often putting myself between the bullshit and those that were vulnerable.”
“Like your little brother?”
“Yeah. I don’t want this information getting out there, so, please…”
“Of course.”
I lean forward aggressively. “I fuckin’ mean it.”
She jerks slightly but nods. “If you ask me to keep something between us, you can count on me, Killian. I wouldn’t ever betray a confidence, especially about something painful from your childhood. Not ever.”
I believe her. I believe her wholeheartedly.
And I really didn’t wanna fuckin’ get into this, but she needs an explanation for my behavior.
I stare. And I know I look pissed off. But she’s looking at me without fear, only concern. But I am pissed off. Because I could explain away waking up in my bed with her the other night but waking up in her bed has my head fucked up.
I take in a lungful of breath and blow it out slowly. “When stress got amped I’d sleepwalk, most often to get near to people in my life that needed protecting. And you’re someone that I seem drawn to protect right now, so …”
Her eyes go wide. Wider.
“I was protective over my little brother. Before that, my mother, but getting the shit kicked out of me for standing up for her and then her not lifting a finger to intervene… she lost that loyalty at some stage and I would just protect my brother.”
Fuck, why did I say that? I never tell people that shit. I keep on talking, though. “He used to come into my room if he was scared. He got teased for it by the jerk-off my mother was shacked up with, so he stopped coming in. I knew he was still scared, so if shit felt like it’d go south, I’d go to him. He was tryin’ to suck it up, so he’d tell me not to worry, send me away. Got to a point where I’d go to sleep in my room, wake up in his. I could take the shit Max would give me instead of Will and I guess subconsciously I’d just… walk there. Wake up on his floor.”
She nods.
Fuck, I’m talking too much. I’m saying names. I brought up my mother. And him. There’s a foul taste in my mouth and I wanna spit, even puke my guts up to get that taste, that fuckin’ name outta my mouth.
Instead, I push it back. I tell it to fuck right off. I lean toward Violet again, probably too aggressively.
“Twice, I’ve sought you out. First time, thought I was seeking out my bed. Last night, sought you out anyway, even though I’d never slept in that room. And now that I think on it, I had a bad dream. Something happened to you. The shit stain was responsible. That’s why I must’ve climbed in to be near you. Make sure you were all right.”
She nods again.
“So, I apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t.”
I raise my brows.
“You didn’t, Killian. I knew it was sleepwalking or something because I woke up and you were just there. You were holding my hand and you had an arm around me. It wasn’t sexual like… like the night before.” Her face goes red with embarrassment. “It was more…protective. And that makes sense based on you talking about protecting your little brother.”
I swallow a mouthful of coffee so that my reaction, whatever it looks like, will be hidden by the mug.
She keeps talking. “I was startled when I woke up, so I pulled my hand back and that’s when you woke up.”
“He hit you?” I demand.
She jerks back.
“He ever hit you?”
She shakes her head but she’s not looking at me.
“You being honest with me?”
“Why are you asking me this?”
“Did Iadanza hit you, Violet? It’s a simple question.”
“It’s not a simple answer, Killian, and I don’t know why you’re asking.”
“I’m asking because if he never did, and I know that, maybe it’ll take shit down a notch for me.”
“He didn’t.”
“No?” I don’t believe her. I don’t think she’s lying exactly, but I don’t think she’s telling me everything. I stare until she speaks, which takes a good two minutes.
“He used intimidation tactics. Cornering me. Screaming in my face. Breaking things. Acting like he would hit me. But he didn’t actually strike out and land any blows. Sometimes he’d pin me while he screamed at me. Sometimes he’d hit a wall beside me. Some other stuff, I… I’m not gonna say anything else here because you look like you want to hurt someone.”