Page 124 of A Curse On Black Lake
Killian doesn’t ask for another, and I don’t drink mine.
I can feel eyes skating all over my skin, and I do my best to ignore them. I’ve never stepped foot in Sully’s. It’s simple, with sticky wood floors, an old wood bar top, and some mirrors around the area, one being broken. A pool table and darts sit in the back corner, along with some high-top tables and chairs. There’s a dance floor off to the side, and they apparently serve food as I watch the bartender slide a basket of onion rings to a man a few rows down. I don’t make eye contact with anyone.But the bartender keeps giving Killian odd looks, and my hackles rise.
Killian shifts, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. He tosses a few bills on the table and jerks his head in the direction of the door. I hop off the stool, and he takes my hand, slipping his keys into it.
“Do you know how to drive?” he asks.
“Yes, but be warned I’m not great. Grams taught me.”
He shrugs, and we walk down the street to the truck. Killian opens the driver’s side for me, helps me into the truck and closes the door before walking around to his side.
I pull out of the parking spot carefully, white knuckling the steering wheel. Killian’s truck is a lot nicer than mine, and the last thing I want to do is wreck it.
As we drive out of town, I keep checking on him. His hat sits on the dashboard, and he’s resting against the headrest.
My chest nearly caves in with relief as I turn the truck onto his gravel driveway.
When I pull into his normal parking spot and turn the ignition off, I release a long breath. It’s been a long time since I’ve driven anything.
Killian gets out without saying anything and storms into the house.
I feel like I’m playing catch-up. Unable to ask him what he needs and yet afraid to. Taking a deep breath, I turn the knob, and he isn’t anywhere on the main level. The floor creaks upstairs with his footsteps. Do I go up there? Should I?Yes,the Spirits say.
I know they’re right. If it were me, I’d want someone,anyone, to tell me that my life is not a lie. That I had people who loved me.
Each step creaks under my feet as I go up the stairs. Killian’s door is closed, but I knock anyway.
“Not now,” he grunts.
I ignore him and open it.
“Did you hear a word I said?” he grunts.
Irritation splits through me, but I push it down. It’s his anger talking. “Yes, I heard you, but I wanted to talk to you.”
“What is there to say?” he says.
“A lot actually, but I wanted to let you talk first.”
“Why? You’re usually the one who likes to talk anyway,” he snaps.
“At least I’m honest with myself,” I snap.
“What are you trying to say? I can’t be honest with myself or anyone else? I can’t take the truth, even if it hurts?” Killian says, his voice breaking under the pressure building.
I take a few steps towards him, and he holds his hand out.
“Please don’t. I don’t know what I’ll do,” he says.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” I tell him.
“I’m … angry, Eliana. Please.”
“Then tell me,” I command.
“I don’t want to!” he yells.
“Then yell!” I scream.
