“Your sobriety is something to be proud of. That’s not a con.”
He shrugs. “Maybe, but when ‘recovering addict’ sits beside ‘combat veteran,’ I know it implies?—”
“It implies nothing,” I cut him off. “And it doesn’t have any impact on our friendship either.”
I feel a shift in the space between us and hold my breath.
“Friendship?” Cillian asks.
He looks at me, and I wish I could disappear.
It had to be that. Friendship. Just that.
The only thing Cillian telling me about his recovery did was resolve the thoughts I’d had in the shower this morning—or was it yesterday? Regardless, he’d worked too damn hard for me to roll in and wreck shop.
“Yeah? At least I thought—” I cut myself off, looking toward the stairs as I hear a door close.
“Michael’s going to crash here for a few hours before we head to our parents’ place.”
“Ah.” I know ‘we’ doesn’t include me.
“And you thought right.” Cillian takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure you’re ready to get home.”
There was that damn word again. Home.
“I can call a car.”
“I can take you.”
“It’s ok,” I say, fingers already moving across my phone screen. “They’ll be here in five.”
Time folds in on itself as I gather my things. Five minutes feels both like an eternity and a millisecond.
We make our way downstairs, Michael’s snores from the couch making it clear he’s dead to the world.
As we stand in the foyer, I realize with a pang, this is the only time I’ve gone out the front door since the first night we spent together.
Cillian sets my bag down and pulls me to him. “Thank you for everything,” he says into my hair. I rest my ear above his heart, breathe in his scent—evergreen and tobacco today—squeezing my eyes shut to hold back the tears.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, informing me of my driver’s arrival.
With a tender touch, Cillian tilts my chin up to kiss me. Slowly. Intentionally. When we separate, I know the shine in his eyes matches my own.
“If you need anything...” My voice trails off.
“I know where to find you.” He tucks one of my curls behind my ear, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Goodbye, Toni.”
My heart cracks.
Sparse early morningtraffic makes the ride across town blessedly short, so I manage to hold on to my composure right until my door closes behind me.
The sob doubles me over. Hot tears soaking my cheeks in a breath.
Some selfish, unreasonable, part of me is screaming to get in my goddamn car and go back. Beg him to...
What?
Love me?
