Echoes of Silence (Unquiet Mind Book 1) (15 page)

He seemed to get my meaning because his eyes blazed into mine before he turned his attention back to the road.

I reluctantly tore my gaze away from his profile. Though I could look at him for days, I guessed it would be a tad weird to keep staring at him while he drove. I turned my attention to the road. We were high, and dusk was just hitting the sky, turning it into an explosion of colors, with the waves and twinkling sea below it. It was beautiful. Though I liked my previous view.

We lapsed back into our comfortable silence and Killian pulled into a dirt road that took us toward what I guessed would be some kind of lookout.

“Aren’t you worried about your car getting dirty?” I asked him as we traversed the road. I knew how much pride he put into this, that he built it with his dad. He treasured it. It was also clean, something strange for a teenage boy’s car.

Killian quickly glanced at me. “Cars get dirty, babe. That’s life. It’s not clean or simple. You’re not livin’ it right if it is,” he declared.

I stared at him, surprised at such a profound answer to such a simple question. “But your car’s always clean,” I pointed out.

“I clean it,” he responded simply.

I couldn’t help it, for some reason, I burst out laughing. When I found my breath again, I looked at Killian. “I would happily forgo this route if I could spare you the time of having to clean your car.”

Killian gave me another sideways look before parking his car at a grassed area boasting a beautiful view of the ocean and horizon beyond. Normally, I’d be transfixed with such a view, but the way Killian gave me his full attention, nothing else existed. I reasoned I could be sitting in front of the Mona Lisa and still prefer the gaze I was locked in right now.

“Some things are worth getting dirty for, Freckles. No matter the clean-up,” he murmured. We stared at each other for a long beat. “Plus,” he said with a grin, releasing my hand to reach to the backseat. “Maybe I’ll be treated to watching you wash it for me. Got a bikini?” he teased.

I laughed again. “In your dreams, buddy.”

Killian gave me a look, one that made my stomach feel strange and my lips tingle. Then he handed me the sweet-smelling bags. “You take these. I’ll get the rest.”

I was about to ask him what “the rest” was, but he got out of the car. I followed suit and stood gazing at the view, not sure of what I was meant to do with these bags.

“Follow me, Freckles,” his voice rasped in my ear.

I jumped slightly, not realizing Killian had even been behind me. I did as instructed as he led us out to almost the edge of the cliffed area and he laid down a big checkered rug and cooler.

It was only then it clicked. I usually was much quicker on the uptake, but Killian took up all my headspace prior to now. “A picnic,” I whispered. “You made a picnic.”

Killian looked at me, gently taking the bags from my hands. “Technically, I didn’t
make
the picnic, considering my boy Jase hooked us up with the food. I’m merely serving it up in a different location,” he corrected, pulling containers out of one bag and plates out of another.

I watched with a fluttering heart. “You made a picnic,” I repeated softly. “It’s perfect.”

Killian set the containers down on the blanket before straightening back up. “Glad you think so. Though I’ll admit, I have selfish motivations. I want you all to myself, no interruptions, no one else. Just you and me,” he declared, stepping forward to grasp my hips.

The gesture and the words were amazing and would have made me feel great if it wasn’t for the pressure he exerted in the wrong place, causing me to ruin the moment by letting out an unintentional mew of pain and flinching from his grasp.

Killian’s face instantly turned hard; all the soft disappeared. He stared at me in concern. “What? Did I hurt you?”

I stepped forward, touching his hands to reassure him. “No,” I told him quickly. “I hurt me. I just forgot about it. Don’t worry. I’m fine.” I hoped he wouldn’t take it any further, so I didn’t have to embarrass myself.

Killian frowned. “You hurt yourself? Where? What happened?” he asked in a brisk voice.

I sighed and my face flamed. “I was a little... eager in getting out of bed last night and may have had a tussle with my bedding. A tussle I lost and the edge of my bedside table won,” I said in a small voice.

I held my breath, expecting laughter. When I didn’t get it, I looked up. Killian’s face was inscrutable. “Show me,” he commanded.

I sighed and lifted my top up, still feeling the flame of a blush on my cheeks. I exposed my hip and the purplish bruise above my low-riding jeans.

Killian hissed in a breath as his featherlight touch brushed against my skin.

I blushed for an entirely different reason this time. This wasn’t his hand on my face or my arm. It was a more... intimate spot.

“Jesus, Freckles,” he muttered, his eyes on the bruise, his mind obviously not in tandem with mine. Then again, he wasn’t as inexperienced as me. Such a touch probably wasn’t a big deal to him. I felt a stab of pain more severe than my hip at this.

“It’s fine,” I reassured him. “I bruise easily.” My hands were still holding up my top and I was aware his fingers still brushed the top of my hip.

His ice blue eyes met mine. “I’ll remember that,” he said. “I’ll make sure to take extra care, so I don’t bruise you.” His eyes stayed locked on mine and his fingers trailed along my hip. I sucked in a breath and his eyes changed; a heat entered them, and I knew his thoughts mirrored my earlier ones. His hand snapped back to his side and I let go of my top.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold,” he said in a husky voice.

I cleared my throat. “Good idea.”

Then we ate, spoke little, watched the sunset, and enjoyed each other’s company.

****

“You seriously expected to go to Hogwarts?” Killian asked.

I nodded. “Checked the mail every day on the days leading up to my eleventh birthday and combed the skies for owls,” I told him seriously.

Killian’s body vibrated next to mine. He lifted our intertwined hands up toward the sky. I regarded them in the moonlight with the backdrop of the night’s sky above us. We had long finished our amazing meal and were laying on our backs, side by side, looking at the stars and telling embarrassing childhood stories. Well, I was telling embarrassing childhood stories. Killian was merely listening and asking the appropriate questions.

“What did your mom think of this?” he asked when he had finished chuckling.

“I didn’t tell her, of course,” I said. “She could have been a Muggle. I didn’t want to jeopardize my chances of going to the most prestigious school in the wizarding world just because of my big mouth.”

Killian didn’t just chuckle this time, he boomed with laughter, the sound ringing in the silent air. It was nice. He may have been laughing at me, but I didn’t mind. I liked making him laugh, either with me or at me. I didn’t think he’d had many opportunities to laugh in his life.

“Of course,” I continued, “I came to the sad realization I wouldn’t be going to Hogwarts soon after I turned eleven. When I told Mom a few years later, she was immensely disappointed that I didn’t tell her. She told me she would’ve fashioned a letter herself to avoid my disappointment.”

“And what would she have done when little Freckles had her bags packed, waiting to go to school?” Killian asked, his tone light.

I turned my head to regard his profile. “I asked that exact same question. She said she’d find a way to get us to King’s Cross and watch as I ran into the divider between platforms nine and ten.”

Killian let out another bark of laughter. “Jesus, your mom’s crazy, babe. In a good way.”

I nodded. “The best way.”

The silence we had enjoyed a lot of tonight descended once more, but I wasn’t eager to bathe in it as I had been, reveling in Killian’s body next to mine, our intertwined hands.

“What happened with your mom this weekend?” I asked quietly.

There was a long pause as Killian sighed and rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand. “What always happens,” he said finally, his voice flat. “The shit she puts in her body landed her in a mess I had to clean up. Though it was not just me who had to clean it up. The club is burdened with her crap too. They’ve got a residual sense of loyalty to my dad, even though he’s five years in the dirt.”

I paused for a second. “Maybe it’s not just your dad they’re loyal to,” I whispered. “Maybe it’s his son, the one who said himself the club is his family.”

“Family or not, they shouldn’t have to deal with that ugly stuff.”

“Neither should you,” I told him, anger bubbling up at the sense of responsibility a seventeen-year-old boy had to his addict mom. The boy I liked. A lot. “But that’s what family’s for. Not just to enjoy the good times, to band together in the ugly.”

Killian turned his head to mine. I could almost feel the weight of his gaze in the darkness. “How’d you get so wise, Freckles?”

I smiled at him. Even if he couldn’t see me, I couldn’t help it. “I’ve just got experience with family. One that isn’t blood but love you like they are, no matter what.”

Killian squeezed my hand. “Steve and Ava? They aren’t your grandparents?” he asked.

“Yeah, they are,” I replied. “They just aren’t Mom’s biological parents; doesn’t mean they aren’t my grandparents. They took Mom in when she was a kid and I was a baby. Gave her a job. Gave us a family. I’ve never thought about them as anything else. Family isn’t about a last name. It’s about a feeling.”

Killian squeezed my hand. “I’m glad you’ve got that, Lexie. You deserve to have that.”

I squeezed his hand back. “I’m glad you’ve got the club,” I whispered. “You don’t just deserve that, you deserve more.”

Killian leaned over so his body hovered over mine and his hand rested lightly on my hip. “I’ve got more, Freckles,” he said against my mouth.

Before we could say anything else, his mouth settled over mine and he kissed me. It was like the kiss in the car, different than any other one we’d ever had. Heat built in my stomach as the kiss lasted longer than any other we’d ever had. Killian’s hand on my hip felt like a branding iron and his body hovering over mine swallowed me into beautiful oblivion. I didn’t think about anything but how I could live in this moment forever. That I could kiss Killian forever.

I made an embarrassing sound at the back of my throat to protest his lips leaving mine. They didn’t go far. He still hovered above me, and I could feel his fractured breathing on my face. His body tightened and he was still and silent, lingering like that for a split second. Then, to my dismay, he sat up, gently pulling me with him.

“It’s almost ten,” he said in a flat voice. “We’ve got to get you home.”

And without even looking at me, he stood and gathered the scattered containers.

I was confused at the distance that seemed to yawn in front of us when we had been so close moments before. I pushed myself up, rolling the sleeves of his leather jacket up so I could help. I inhaled the scent of him for a moment. He’d given it to me when the night air began to bite through the thin fabric of my shirt. Just like the movies.

Though now the movie-like perfection of our date was shattered as we packed up in silence. I fought back tears as Killian barely looked in my direction when he grabbed the things I handed him, walking to the car to put them back.

I followed him, doubt crippling me as he opened the passenger door to let me in. The silence followed us from the outcrop into the car as he navigated the dirt road in the darkness and led us back onto the winding road at the top. I fiddled with my fingers the whole time, sneaking glances at him. When the headlights of another car illuminated his face, I saw it was tight and hard, and his knuckles were white as he gripped his steering wheel.

I couldn’t stand this anymore. “Am I a bad kisser?” I blurted, red creeping up my cheeks the moment the words left my mouth.

Killian’s head snapped to me for a second. “What?” he clipped out.

“Am I a bad kisser?” I repeated, completing my mortification, but I was determined. “Because this was... wonderful, until the kiss and now you’re not speaking to me.”

Killian didn’t answer, but the atmosphere in the car changed, and he pulled off the road, parking on the shoulder, just before we entered town proper. He turned off the engine and leaned over to clasp my neck.

“In no universe could the way you kiss be described as bad,” he murmured, his voice rough and soft at the same time. “Kissing you, Freckles, tasting how sweet you are...” He trailed off, his hands flexing at my neck. “It’s good. The best kind of sweet I’ve ever tasted in my bitter life. That’s the problem,” he explained.

My heart was beating out of my chest as his words chased away the doubt, but I was confused. “How is that a problem?” I managed to choke out.

“It’s a problem ‘cause I don’t have experience with sweet, with good. I’ve just realized how precious that is. How precious you are. How different to me you are. You’re innocent.”

I blushed even more. In fact, I was pretty sure my whole body turned crimson. He knew. Of course he knew. I’d told him he was my first kiss.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Killian said firmly, reading my mind. “It’s beautiful, babe. I just need to remember that. Go slow. Savor the sweet.”