“What did you think about what I said?” I asked.
His gaze lifted again. “About what?”
“About you coming with me,” I said. “Seeing things. Not just… this. Us actually being together?” I gestured vaguely, meaning everything.
His jaw tightened slightly. “That depends,” he said.
“On what?”
He held my eyes then. “What the endgame is.”
The question settled heavier than I expected. “I don’t have one,” I said.
“That’s not true.”
“It is,” I insisted, softer now. “I just want to live. I just don’t know what that looks like yet.”
He leaned back slightly, studying me. “And where do I fit in that?”
“I want you there,” I admitted. “So, right next to me.”
Killian rubbed a hand over his jaw, looking out the window for a moment before speaking again. “I think I might be holding you back,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
“You just got out of that attic,” he continued. “You haven’t seen anything. You haven’t been with anyone but me. You don’t know your type—what you like and don’t like.”
I felt my chest tighten slightly. “Killian—”
“I heard what you said in that poem,” he cut in, quieter now. “Hero worship. That doesn’t end well.”
I held his gaze. “But you’re my hero. What's wrong with me worshipping you?”
He ignored my attempt to lighten the moment. “What if I say I’ll wait?” he asked.
The words landed softly. I shook my head. “That won’t do.”
His expression didn’t change much, but I felt it. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want someone waiting on me,” I said. “That feels like… pressure. Like I’ll owe you something at the end of it.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I know, you keep telling me,” I said. “It’s kind of annoying. I know how we started, but you gotta stop.”
"But I'm ten years older than you, Chloe," he said. "I've got blood on my hands and ghosts of my own. You’re just starting. You deserve a clean slate, not someone who’s already halfway through their story."
I pressed my lips together, trying not to roll my eyes. “Do I need to cry, act like I did when you first met me? Hero suits you better than this self-sacrificing martyr act, or can I simply tell you I don’t want to lose you and you'll believe it?”
“You’re not losing me,” he replied.
“It feels like it, like you’re gonna make yourself pull away.” I was new to these things, these emotions, but it was written all over his face. “You think you’re doing the right thing by giving me 'space.'”
Killian didn't look away. "It’s not about the right or wrong thing, Chloe," he said. "It’s about making sure that when you choose a life, you’re choosing it because it’s what you actually want—not because I pulled you out of the dark."
I reached across the small table, forcing my hand into his, feeling a bit panicky. His skin was hot, his pulse thrumming against my palm. I squeezed his hand, my eyes locked on his.
"Please, just stop." He was hurting my heart because it felt like, in the end, he might actually not stay. I needed him. Partly because of what he’d done for me and partly because of who he was.