Skeletons of Us (Unquiet Mind Book 2)

by Anne Malcom

  The gun-wielding intruder being Killian.

  He lowered the gun quickly once his gaze flickered around the room and saw no immediate threat. Ice blue eyes settled on me. Concern, similar to but a lot more intense than Noah’s, blazed in them. And something else. Something else my half-asleep and fully freaked-out body could not handle at this juncture.

  “Lexie screamed,” he said by explanation to Noah’s string of curses.

  I burst out of bed, feeling strangely vulnerable in that position.

  “She got a fright. My bad,” Noah bit out, glowering at Killian.

  Killian glowered right back. “Yeah, it is.”

  I blinked away the stars that came with me lurching up so abruptly. My head throbbed and I couldn’t stop myself from swaying, the wooden floor beneath me rushing toward my face.

  Tattooed arms caught me before I hit the ground.

  “Jesus Christ, Lexie. Are you okay?” Noah bit out. He yanked me upright, his face a mask of concern.

  Killian had surged forward at my stumble. His face was not a mask of concern; it was just a mask. A blank sheet settled over a vaguely family face that had sharpened with age and emptied with the harshness of four short years.

  “You’re going back to the hospital. Now,” he declared, his voice vibrating though the room.

  I stepped out of Noah’s arms, partly to assert my independence and not look like a swooning woman in a bad rom-com and partly to distance myself from Killian, who’d rounded the bed.

  Noah frowned at this, but let me do it.

  “I’m okay,” I said, deciding to ignore my throbbing head.

  Killian’s stare darkened. “No you’re fuckin’ not.”

  Noah glared at him, which was good because that meant I didn’t have to do it. The contortion of my facial muscles would be possible, but my head was pounding.

  “She says she’s okay, she’s fuckin’ okay. Not up to you to argue that.”

  Killian turned his glower to Noah. Any sane man would blanch at such a look. I actually flinched at the fury, foreign and unnerving, on his face. Worse, it looked like it belonged there.

  I tore my gaze from the stare down and regarded my pajama-clad body. Not only did I not remember getting here, falling asleep, or leaving the hospital in general, I did not remember putting my luscious silk pajamas on, which I now hated thanks to the photo of the man who I guessed almost killed Duke. I’d planned on throwing them out, burning them, or use them as a sacrifice in a Wiccan ritual to ward off spirits, but I hadn’t gotten around to it.

  I’d been busy.

  Now they were on me. Someone, not me, put them on me.

  “Who put these on me?” I whispered, my voice shaky.

  Two dark-haired heads cut to me. Both softened from their glares. Though Killian’s gaze was hard, unfamiliar. The entire package of him was unfamiliar. I almost wouldn’t have recognized him if it wasn’t for the eyes. And the way my mangled and broken heart had started beating again the second I’d laid eyes on him, no matter the fact he was the reason for that broken and bleeding heart.

  I couldn’t think of that.

  Noah stepped forward again. “That was me, babe. Didn’t think hospital scrubs would be that comfortable to sleep in.”

  I nodded, relieved. I remembered, with great pain, diving into Killian’s embrace after I’d gotten the news. The memory of his arms, the safety of having them around me after the years of yearning for them, nearly brought me to my knees. Nearly. But he was here. I didn’t know why. I couldn’t think of that right now. I only knew two things: I needed him gone as quickly as possible, and I would never let him know how deeply that cut went. That it never healed. That I always picked at the ugly, long, emotional scar the moment it scabbed over, letting it bleed anew. Like some kind of masochist.

  The air in my room went wired, and Killian’s eyes went murderous. “You what?”

  The fury in his tone was unbelievable on many levels, but mainly because Noah had seen me in various states of undress on a few occasions. I didn’t make a habit of walking around naked, but I was comfortable with him. We slept in the same bed semi regularly when we both couldn’t stand the echoes of our own loneliness. Noah made me feel safe. I loved him with all my heart. And he was also gay, so no chance of romantic feelings fucking that beautiful love up and turning it into some ugly twisted thing.

  Plus, this was none of Killian’s business. He hadn’t laid eyes on me in years, how was it any of his business who put my PJs on me. I opened my mouth to repeat this sentiment out loud when someone else, someone bigger than Kill but also wielding a gun burst through the door.

  He immediately lowered it.

  “I heard you scream,” Zane said, rushing over to me. Killian stepped back, holding his body tight in order to let Zane through. “You okay, Lex? I would have gotten here sooner, but I had to take measures to make sure your pregnant mother didn’t follow me.”

  His gaze settled on my forehead and his brows knitted together, fury covering his face like a blanket. “Fuck. Is it your head? You in pain?” he bit out.

  “No,” I lied.

  Zane’s eyes flared in disbelief. “You sure?”

  I nodded, but again, before I could open my mouth, someone else rushed into the room. Granted, my room at our beach house wasn’t small, but it was getting crowded considering it was full of three muscly males and one pregnant woman.

  “How dare you try and lock me inside the room after my daughter screams in the middle of the night,” Mom spat at Zane, only after she ran her gaze over me to make sure I was in one piece.

  Zane’s gaze flickered from me to Mom, his jaw hardening. “It obviously didn’t fuckin’ work,” he growled. “Mia, for fuck’s sake, what if this was a dangerous situation? You waltz in here puttin’ our baby and you in danger, not okay.”

  Mom glared at him, not balking under his considerable anger. She skirted past him to bring me into her arms, albeit awkwardly with the baby bump and all. “I didn’t waltz,” she hissed over my head. “I gracefully crept in and knew the coast was clear considering I didn’t hear any gunshots and saw Killian loitering in the doorway. If Lexie was in any kind of danger, the kid wouldn’t loiter anywhere.” She managed to say that while directing a glare at Killian, contradicting the sentiment that she might harbor any positive feelings for him.

  I succeeded in hiding my flinch at her words, but Killian’s eyes blazed as they seemed to gage my reaction anyway.

  Mom was blissfully oblivious to this exchange. “Plus, Lexie is also my baby. You think I’ll just let you lock me in a bathroom while I go through the various reasons for her emitting such a scream.” She shook her head rapidly. “Not happening.” She glanced down at me. “You okay, dollface?”

  I nodded, my gaze going around the room. “Noah just gave me a fright. No need for two firearms and one domestic,” I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

  Mom squeezed me. “Oh, this isn’t a domestic. I’m saving that for later, when the baby’s asleep.” She rubbed her belly while glaring at Zane. “I don’t want pea’s memories from the womb being me stabbing his or her dad with my nail scissors.” Low and behold, she actually waved nail scissors.

  I raised my brows. “Which part of that body are those nail scissors going to pierce?” I asked lightly, nodding to Zane who was wearing only jeans and no shirt, his entire inked and muscled body on display. “I’d wager that they’d bounce off him, or they might just snap on contact.”

  Mom narrowed her eyes. “I’m willing to get creative finding a… soft spot.”

  She actually sounded serious. “Mom, please don’t stab your husband and the father of my brother.”

  She waved the scissors at him. “You don’t try and lock me away from my screaming kid ever again.”

  He crossed his arms, face blank. “Not promisin’ that, Mia,” he growled. “You’re carryin’ our kid. You think I’m lettin’ you risk that? ‘Specially now? In
your condition? No. You just gotta trust that I’ll keep Lexie safe. Won’t let anything happen to her.”

  Mom’s eyes softened slightly and she slowly lowered the scissors.

  My eyes narrowed between the both of them. “Mom’s condition?” I repeated.

  Mom raised the scissors again. “What part of, don’t tell Lexie did you not understand?” she hissed at him.

  “Mom,” I warned.

  She sighed dramatically. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  I glanced at Zane, whose face was blank but a muscle ticked in his jaw. Mom looked to him too, this time pulling the scissors across her throat in a warning gesture. That didn’t work because Zane looked to me.

  “Your mom has preeclampsia,” he bit out. “Which means she can’t be doing anything that will raise her blood pressure. She shouldn’t even be on her feet for extended periods of time. She sure as shit shouldn’t be going into any fuckin’ high-risk situation.”

  Mom scowled at him. “You’re exaggerating. And I’m basically not on my feet. Hardly ever.”

  I blanched, the blood draining out of my face. Worry washed through me. I knew what preeclampsia was. I knew what the risks were. Unbidden, the memory of that day at the hospital hurtled into my mind. The day when I thought I might lose Mom, my little brother, and Zane too. Because I knew if anything happened to Mom, there would be no coming back for him.

  “Mom?” I said in a small voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Her face softened. “We only just found out. It’s not like things are exactly calm with you right now. You didn’t need to worry about your mom. You’ve gone through enough.”

  I stepped forward, clasping her hands, thrusting the nail scissors away. “I’m okay. Apart from being mad and worried about my mom and my brother or sister. I’m okay. But I’m not happy about you keeping secrets. Listen to your husband,” I instructed.

  She pouted. “Not fair. My firstborn and my hubby are ganging up on me. It’s mutiny. Cruel. I need someone on my side.” She looked to Noah, who was leaning against the wall, watching the scene with a blank face. Though he glared daggers at Killian at regular intervals. I knew Killian’s gaze hadn’t flickered from me the entire time. His eyes were like a physical touch running over my body. I did everything I could to ignore them.

  Noah held up his hands. “Staying far, far away from this one,” he said to Mom. He looked to his watchless hand. “In fact, it’s time for me to head to bed.” His gaze went to me. “You goin’ to be okay, babe?”

  “She’ll be fine,” Killian clipped, his jaw hard.

  Noah’s head snapped to him and he looked like he might try and lunge for the gun he had tucked in the front of his pants.

  “I’ll be fine, Noe,” I interjected quickly before there was any bloodshed. That didn’t mean I wasn’t superbly pissed at Killian answering for me. At him being in my room. Acting like it was where he belonged. As if the past years were some sort of nightmare.

  I wished they had been. But they weren’t. Reality was sometimes worse than most nightmares. More complicated too.

  Noah gave Killian one more warning look and jerked his head to Zane before exiting.

  “Back to bed. Now,” Zane ordered Mom, stepping forward to put his large tattooed hand on her baby bump.

  “I’ll go to bed when I’m satisfied my child is okay,” she snapped, though her gaze melted slightly with Zane’s touch.

  “Mom, bed,” I told her.

  She blew her hair out of her eyes. “My child telling me to go to bed. Pretty sure it’s meant to be the other way around. Just because you’re some sort of famous rock star you can’t get everything you want.”

  “Mom.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. But I’ll tell you, it doesn’t matter how many Grammy’s you have, I’m still your momma.”

  My eyes watered slightly. “You’ll always be my momma.”

  She leaned forward and kissed my head. “You sure you don’t want me to stay in here with you?”

  I nodded. Zane looked like he might blow a vein in his head. I knew how much he worried for Mom, but I also knew how much he worried for me. I didn’t need him stressing about my state of mind. Therefore, I needed to put on a convincing act that would be worthy of an Oscar.

  “I’m fine. Go to bed.”

  She gave me a searching look. “Fine.” She gave Zane a glare before waltzing out. She pointedly ignored Killian. No love lost there.

  Zane’s shrewd eyes didn’t miss a thing. “You sure you’re okay, Lex?” he asked. “You’re safe here, with us, you know that right? We won’t let anything happen to you.”

  I nodded. I’d been doing it far too much and my head was starting to throb from the motion. “I know.” My body may have been safe, my physical well-being, but my emotional health was another story. The gaze coming from the doorway promised hurt. A lot of it. It promised a bleeding heart that would never heal if he stayed in my presence any longer. I’d be rectifying that situation in the morning. After coffee. And, hopefully, after some kind of sleep.

  Zane nodded. “You need sleep. I got your mom. Don’t worry about her. Tomorrow, we get you sorted.”

  He leaned in and kissed my head before striding out of the room. He paused to lean in and mutter one word to Killian, one I couldn’t hear before he left.

  And then it was just me and Killian. In my room. Alone. I tried to suck in a breath, but it was like when everyone left they took the oxygen with them.

  Killian’s eyes blazed into mine. His face may have been empty, but his eyes weren’t. I couldn’t stand the look in them.

  He stepped forward.

  “Don’t,” my broken voice pleaded.

  He froze the moment I spoke.

  “You need to—I can’t do this right now.” Whatever this was. A cruel karmic joke? “I need sleep.”

  There was a long silence after I spoke. A yawning one. As if a chasm had opened up in the room and our electricity and every feeling lurking underneath the surface fed into it, in danger of sucking every broken piece of me into it.

  He nodded, saving my destruction for the time being. “Tomorrow, freckles,” he promised before leaving the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

  It was the last word that did it, that made my knees buckle and cut that last frayed thread that was holding me together. I collapsed on the floor, leaning against the bed, and tried my best to muffle the tearless sobs that escaped from my broken body.

  “Are you fricking high?” I all but spat at my stepfather. “I mean, your pupils don’t look dilated and I’m pretty sure that ‘I’m a total badass who must be in control of everything’ mantra you live by might recommend against mind-altering substances, but this is the only reason I can come up with for you suggesting this. You’re as high as kite. Or you’ve got some kind of temporary insanity thing going on.”

  Zane’s face betrayed nothing, apart from, unfortunately, sanity. “I know you don’t like it, Lexie. But it’s your only option.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Agree to disagree there, buddy.” A lance of pain rippled through me as soon as I spoke, remembering who I used to say that with. The boy in the corner who was sitting stoically, eyes on me. Face blank. The boy who broke my heart. Ground it up. The boy who was now a man, one I barely recognized, apart from those eyes. The man who Zane was informing me would serve as my bodyguard. Over my cold, dead body.

  “I have a lot of options,” I continued, standing from the sofa. It was embroidered with patterned vintage fabric, scattered with mismatched cushions and totally went with the rustic boho atheistic we had going with our beach house in Malibu. The one that was big enough to house the entire band, plus guests and have a studio in the pool house. But one that still felt cozy at the same time, giving the most breathtaking view out of the French doors that opened off the living room we were currently sitting in. The tranquility of the ocean was beyond those doors.


  Though not even the ocean could give me tranquility right now. I needed a valium. Or five.

  “If you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of famous,” I informed Zane. I waved my arms around the expertly decorated living room, with jumbled frames scattered everywhere, pictures of the band over the years. A platinum album was mounted in the biggest frame, all the others surrounding it. “I also have enough money to hire the best security team in L.A., in the country, should I decide I need it.”

  “Should you decide?” Killian spoke for the first time since I’d emerged, puffy eyed and zombielike into the living room earlier.

  Noah had thrust coffee at me when I padded into the room after a sleepless night. “You’re gonna need this,” he muttered, his eyes stormy.

  Sam was behind him, his face even more cloaked in fury. “I took it upon myself to make it Irish.” He noted my brows raising and the way my hand extended to give it to him. He gently pushed the mug back to my chest. “Trust me, caffeine is not enough to get you through this. I’ve already had three.”

  I looked to Noah, who nodded tightly.

  Shit.

  That was when Zane directed me and the boys into the living room, where Mark and Jenna were sitting. Mark’s attire was casual like usual, a white linen shirt, whitewashed jeans, and white chucks. But his tanned and lined face was hard.

  Jenna was as expertly put together as usual, in a blood-red, skintight dress, and Louboutin’s. Her thoroughly made-up face was pinched.

  “This can’t be good,” I muttered, sipping my cup, flinching at the strong whisky aftertaste.

  I was about to set the cup down, despite Sam’s insistence I needed it, that was until I glimpsed Killian standing at the edge of the room, his arms crossed, looking out to the ocean. His jaw was hard and my gaze trailed along those arms, which had grown in size and were now covered in ink. Unfamiliar. Foreign.

  As if he sensed me, I was faced with the only thing that showed me that boy was now the man in front of me. Ice blue eyes.

  They saw into me. Travelled through the managed remains of my soul to cause fresh agony with just the touch of his stare.