Page 33 of Trailer Trash

I don’t know what compels me so fiercely, but I have to get him away from these enablers and temptation.

“We should go watch a movie and take it easy tonight.”

His attention snaps to me, and his brow lifts.

“A movie. With you?”

I nod.

He smiles, crooked and as wide as I’ve seen yet.

“Okay.”

Okay. One word.

He walks away from the girl.

With me.

“Killy, come back,” Frida begs.

“Nah,” he dismisses.

Together, we enter the elevator. He presses the button, but Christine calls for him.

“The cake!”

He ignores her, and the doors close. The elevator hums as it ascends. We’re alone.

“What movies do you like?” he asks casually.

“Actually, I prefer documentaries.”

“Cool. Me too.” Then, as normal as discussing the weather, he adds, “I’m not fucking you tonight, am I?”

I laugh, genuine and loud. “No! But does that mean you’ll go back to your party?”

A boyish smile graces his lips. “Nah, I’m just making sure you won’t take advantage of me. I’m in recovery.”

“Okay, Killy,” I tease and push on his shoulder.

He chuckles for a moment, but then his smile fades.

“Don’t fuck my brother,” he says, his tone suddenly serious. “I’ll overdose if you do.”

My jaw drops. The doors open, and he leaves the elevator without another word.

That’s why he fought me over the wine.

Jagger.

And overdose?

“That manipulative bastard,” I whisper.

8

Killian