Page 48 of Cruel When He Smiles
His hand rises, and he places his palm flat against my chest for a moment, fingers spread over my heartbeat. It’s a gesture that reminds me he’s still the one who kept me alive when no one else could. That our bond is written in someone else’s sin—half-brothers, bound by atrocity.
“I taught you how to survive. Don’t make me teach you how to let go.” Then he steps back, heading for the door, but he pauses in the frame, hand braced against it. “Figure out what he is to you, Liam. Before I decide for you.”
I stare at him with my heart pounding so loudly, I can hear it everywhere. “You won’t touch him.”
Killian looks at me over his shoulder, his blue eyes cold. “Then prove I don’t have to.” His voice drops again, but it cuts deeper. “But if you let someone else dim what I built in you, I will raze the fucking ground to get you back.”
Then he’s gone, and I stand there for a long time, heart thudding too loudly, breath slower than it should be.
Nate
Ihaven’treallysleptwell lately. I spent most of the week holed up in my room, ignoring texts, skipping meals, replaying every second of that night like it might make the memory mean less. But the more I try to scrub him out, the more I feel him under my skin.
He knew exactly what he was doing; he always does. That’s what makes it worse. That this time, it wasn’t some drunk mistake or stupid heat-of-the-moment thing. Liam got to me at my most vulnerable and saw how pathetic I was.
My hoodie feels too tight around my body as I cross campus. My legs feel heavy, almost as if they don’t trust where I’m taking them. I keep my head down, hood up, with headphones in and blasting A Perfect Circle. I don’t want to talk to anyone, and I don’t want to make eye contact.
It’s just past two when I stop outside Dr. Ellis’s office on Wednesday.
Session number… what, six? Eight? I don’t even know anymore. It doesn’t matter because today isn’t about therapy, it’s about him.
He’ll be in there, smiling like he didn’t rip me open and then send me home to take care of myself and sleep. There’s no fucking way I’m letting him know that night was the first time I slept soundly in months.
All because he fucking told me to.
For the first time since this bullshit started, I’m scared. But not in the way people fear knives or falling or the dark. I’m scared ofme.Of what I might do, or what I might say. Of how much control I don’t have when he’s in the room.
My hands are already clenched in my sleeves, knuckles sore from how hard I’ve been grinding them against each other. My jaw aches from holding it closed too tightly. And my chest won’t stop buzzing with fucking anticipation.
I close my eyes for a second, breathing in through my nose, out through my mouth, counting backward from ten like Dr. Ellis taught me. It doesn’t help… nothing helps.
I knock and she answers, bright and polished as always. “Come in, Nate.”
I step in, eyes sweeping the room before I even register her smile.
Liam’s in his usual spot on the left, but he doesn’t look at me, not right away. He waits until I sit, then turns his head just slightly, lips quirking like he knows exactly what I’ve been thinking about all week.
“Glad you both are here,” Dr. Ellis says, settling into her chair across from us. “Let’s check in. Nate, how’s your week been?”
I shrug. “Uhm, fine.”
She gives me that look again—the one that says she knows I’m full of shit but doesn’t want to push yet. “Liam?”
He smiles, easy and disarming. “Great, thanks.”
My throat burns. He sounds so fucking normal.
He’s pretending he didn’t get inside my head and whisper things that still echo when I close my eyes. Like he didn’t twist my psyche and walk away knowing full well that he fucking took something.
I dig my nails into my palm harder than before.
“Anything you’d like to bring into the space today?” Dr. Ellis asks.
I don’t say anything, and neither does he. The silence stretches, and I can’t fucking take it.
“I don’t want to do this today,” I say finally, and my voice trembles.
Dr. Ellis raises an eyebrow. “Can you tell me why?”
