Relief loosened the tension in my shoulders. “Sure. Of course.”

He found some extra blankets and a pillow in the linen cupboard and set up the couch as a bed while I stood awkwardly watching. Even though having him here was a comfort, I still would have to close the bedroom door behind me and be alone with my thoughts.

“You know, I usually watch a little TV before bed,” I lied.

The way he looked at me . . . I swear this guy could see right through me. He nodded. “All right.”

And that’s how I found myself watching episodes of Boardwalk Empire with Killian. Neither of us had seen it before and we got hooked fast.

In fact, it was the last thing I remember. Being curled up on the couch while Killian sat on the floor with his back against it.

When I woke up the next morning, I was magically in my own bed in an empty apartment.

* * *

O’DEA DIDN’T COME AROUND FOR a couple of days.

And just like that, he went back to being O’Dea, not Killian. Not because I was mad at him for disappearing after I’d let down my walls. In fact, I was glad for the space. It allowed me to process everything I’d brought out into the open.

“Your songs . . . There’s so much pain in them. These things can turn to poison if you leave them inside to fester.”

O’Dea was right. And the fact that he was willing to open up to me about his own parents’ death told me how much he wanted me to work through my issues. He wasn’t a man who allowed himself to be vulnerable to anyone but his sister. I was sure of that. But he’d been vulnerable to me in a seemingly self-sacrificing act. How much of it was because he genuinely wanted to help me and how much was about making sure his artist was mentally healthy by the time the album dropped, I wasn’t sure.

My gut told me it was a little of both.

I wasn’t mad at O’Dea. I’d needed to open up regarding that moment with Bryan, to reveal my guilt over not telling my mom about it or anything else. It didn’t mean the guilt was gone, but it had settled to a manageable level as though all it had wanted was for me to face it head-on.

Definitely not mad at O’Dea. But his disappearing act reminded me who we were to each other and calling him by his surname felt like mental armor.

“You okay?” Autumn asked as we wandered through a department store.

After three days in the apartment processing, I needed a breather, so I’d called Autumn and she’d suggested a little retail therapy. I didn’t care what we did, as long as I got out for a while.

“My wrist is itchy,” I complained honestly, lifting up my cast. “I’m desperate to get this thing off.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I broke my ankle when I was fourteen. Skiing trip with the school. I hated the cast. It made me miserable. Killian had just started his second year at uni and he missed out on all the first-semester partying to look after me.”

Oh God, I didn’t want to know that. “Which uni did he go to?” Damn your own curiosity, Finch.

“Glasgow.” She gave me a sad smile. “He wanted to stay at home so he could look after me.”

“Your uncle really didn’t parent you at all?”

She walked around a perfume display and stopped in front of me, lowering her voice. “He kept informed of our grades at school, our extracurricular stuff, and the moment we showed any sign of weakness, a B instead of an A, a lost football match for Killian, a failed audition at the Royal Conservatoire for me, and he would castigate us for what felt like days.”

A bottle of Miss Dior caught my eye and I thought of how amazingly supportive my mom had been about everything. When I came home with a bad grade, she never made me feel like a failure. “Jesus, he sounds like a piece of work.”

“You have no idea.” Autumn threaded her arm through mine and led me toward the stairs. “Anything else, he had absolutely no interest in our lives whatsoever.”

“What’s the Royal Conservatoire?”

“Of Scotland,” she replied. “I was thirteen when I applied for their junior modern ballet program.”

I smiled at the imagery. “I took ballet when I was six for a year. I was useless. I didn’t know you were a ballerina.”

She grimaced. “Yes, but not an exceptional one, I’m afraid. Which was why I never got into the Conservatoire here. It’s in the top five in the world for performing art schools.”

“Did you stop dancing after the audition?”

Sadness flickered in her eyes. “When I didn’t get in to RCS, my uncle refused to pay for any more dance classes. Or anything to do with dance. What was the point if I wasn’t going to be the best?”

I felt my skin flush hot with anger on her behalf. I hadn’t even met their uncle, but my level of dislike for him was growing by the day. And I’d just signed to his goddamned label.

“Your uncle sounds like a man with a very tiny dick.”

Autumn burst into surprised laughter, stopping us near the exit to the department store. Her body shook mine as she laughed until tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. Finally, she wiped at them, her giggles slowing. She beamed at me. “Thanks, Skylar.”

I smiled at her. “For what?”

“For making me laugh when I told you that story. There are a small handful of people in the world who know that story, and not once has it ever ended with me in fits of laughter.”

I squeezed her elbow with my good hand. “What can I say? I have a gift.”

The bitter wind hit us as we strolled back out onto Buchanan Street and I was glad for the winter coat O’Dea had bought me a few weeks ago. Autumn and I huddled into each other as we walked toward Argyle Street, my gaze drawn to the guy busking a few feet from us.

He was pretty good.

A twinge of longing caused an ache in my chest.

“Do you miss it?” Autumn asked as we passed him.

“Busking?”

“Yes.”

I nodded. “It was simple.”

“Killian told me you’re reluctant to get back into the music business. Something about hating the fame part of it all.”

“He did, huh?”

I felt her scrutinizing me. “He thinks it’s fear after all the horrible publicity surrounding your parents’ murders.” Her voice was gentle, as if she was afraid to mention it, but I still flinched.

Murder.

I still couldn’t wrap my head around that.

My mom and Bryan were murdered.

And the bastards who did it were still out there somewhere.

“Your brother believes what he wants to believe,” I said, bitter.

“He thinks if you really weren’t interested in a music career, you would have found another way. That you had other options. Don’t you think there’s a possibility he’s right?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted dully. “When I was in the band, my complicated relationship with Micah put us in the eye of a storm we couldn’t escape. Maybe if things between us had been less messy, if fans hadn’t picked up on it, the fame would have been different. But I don’t know that. All I know is that I had everything I thought I wanted and I was desperately unhappy.” I gave her a sad shrug. “Does that mean I will be again? I don’t know. So, I guess I was less afraid to take that risk than I was to face the guys. They were my family too and I . . . I abandoned them. I wasn’t ready to face them yet, so I agreed to do things O’Dea’s way and hope that it pans out okay.”

“You’re angry at Killian,” she murmured.

“No, I’m not. What was he supposed to do? Let me live in that apartment, feed me, clothe me, all for nothing? I was a stranger. He offered me an alternative to living on the streets and I accepted it. Now I’m here on a work visa instead of being kicked out of the country, I have travel insurance, a place to stay, and time to sort things out. In exchange for something that frankly scares the shit out of me. I’m not mad at him. I resent him a little,” I huffed, “but I’m not mad. I’m just . . .”

“You’re just . . . ?”

I shook my head, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“My brother will help you through this, Skylar, you have to know that.” Autumn gave me big, sincere puppy eyes and I almost laughed. It was so obvious that she wanted me to like O’Dea. It became even more obvious when she continued, “He’s highly competitive. Very ambitious. And I’m not blind to his faults. I know he can be ruthless. And cold. But our uncle, our upbringing, made him that way.