Page 137 of Trailer Trash

Harlow, scream thank you and get out.

But I don’t.

He smiles warmly and hands me a tissue. “It’s nice to see someone care about Killian the way Christine and I do.”

That’s when he sniffles back his own tears.

Whoa.

He’s crying.

This doesn’t make sense though. A phone bill? Journaling? He’s not in trouble with the law, either. How can a phone bill and a few notebooks frighten him this badly? What happened last time that he isn’t telling me?

“Killian won’t like this,” I say, genuinely afraid of how he’ll react to the news.

“That’s my problem. I am telling him after you leave. You need to be gone before we confront him. Security will get your things and meet you at the front door. I’ll take it from there.”

He stands and reaches over the desk to shake my hand. In shock, I barely manage to stand and do so. I’m still not in my own body.

I walk to the door, unsure if this is real.

“And Harlow. Thank you.”

I nod like I’m supposed to and trudge toward the front door to wait for security.

I make it three steps.

Then I turn toward Killian.

Security is retrieving my things. I have no reason to go back.

Still, my feet carry me toward him.

37

Harlow

The elevator pings and the doors slide open. As I expected, Security is already there, grabbing my bag from the chair.

Killian is texting on the sofa but looks up.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he says to the man.

Then, he spots me behind him. I catch the slightest smile when he sees me. The sexy, crooked one I wish didn’t affect me.

I am terrified. His dad said what I already knew, but hearing about police and standoffs makes Killian that much worse.

I hate Killian.

I hate him.

My eyes close and I’m back underneath him as the moment replays. His cock, his body heat, his tongue, him. My stomach twists so hard, I almost vomit. I inhale a deep breath and keep going, one step after the other.

Clark said the notebooks came before the end last time. Before I can reconsider, my legs carry me into Killian’s bedroom.

My legs move on their own, though, making a sharp turn into his bedroom.

“What am I doing?” I say to myself.