Page 159 of Trailer Trash

My traitorous heart actually responds, skipping a beat. I shove it down, reminding myself he is so much worse than I ever imagined.

“You put cameras in my house.”

He grunts at my deflection. “Did you hear me?”

“I don’t care. I know you’re psychotic.”

He releases me, but still blocks the bedroom door. I back up until my backside bumps into the dresser. In my peripheral, I catch a glimpse of his wallet, keys, and pocketknife he set on top.

“That wasn’t easy for me to say,” he murmurs. He swallows hard. “I’ll buy you roses every day.”

I lift my chin to avoid appearing weak, but my body trembles. My throat is tight as I speak.

“Killian. You just told me you put cameras in my house. That you broke into my home, drugged me, then slept with me. You burned down my house!”

“Harlow, I tried to stay away. I missed us.”

I’m about to rip out my heart and stomp on it for responding to his words a second time. This is unreal. I should only feel violated and disgusted by this man — especially now.

He waits, staring at me intently. I let the silence fester, if only for my own protection.

“Baby, I’ll buy you a new trailer. I guess I was hasty.”

“Hasty!”

“I want you to live with me, though.”

“I’m not living with a drug addict.”

“I’ll quit for you.”

“Uh-huh. Your sobriety worked out so well the last time.”

His nostrils flare, and he rests his hands on his hips. “Okay, I fucked up. I guess I want a future with you, all right? I just had trouble admitting it at the time. This time away from you has been fucking torture.”

My breath shakes as I exhale. The words are sweet. But who is saying them? Killian the addict? The psycho? Definitely not the sober man he claims he can be.

“Why did you put cameras in my bedroom?”

He leers, annoyed by the question. “I put them everywhere. Is that what you wanna fuckin’ hear? I worry about you.”

I cover my mouth, stunned.

“Can we get past this crap? It doesn’t matter. I did other shit too. I beat the hell out of Jaxson at the restaurant and told him to end the date. I strung up Evan by his hands so he’d learn never to touch you again.” He steps forward, deliberate and smooth. “I cloned your phone and laptop to keep an eye on you. I give you money when you’re not looking. I tracked your car to make sure you get home safe. I had Atticus pull your therapist’s notes. I got a job to impress you. I am fucking obsessed with you. Because I love you. If you hate me for it, fine, but I’m not apologizing. Nobody will take care of you like I do.”

I stand there, gobsmacked by the gravity of what he just said. I blink. I stammer. I shake my head.

“You destroyed my life.”

“You are my life, baby. Be with me, and I’ll be any man you want.”

He takes a step forward. I use the opportunity to move one stride closer to the pocketknife. It’s beside my shoulder, ready to be snatched. At the same time, I hold up my hand, signaling him to stop. To my surprise, he freezes.

“Does part of you like it?” His voice lowers. “Does part of you like knowing how much I need you? How much I’ve done for you?”

Yes.

I love it. I love that Killian apparently adores me.