Idol (VIP, #1)(20)

I’m so grateful, my vision blurs before I blink it clear.

“Oh, man, Nevermind.” He holds up the Nirvana album and flips it over to read the back. “God, I remember when Jax and I discovered the Seattle Sound. It was like this beautiful rage and perfect disdain. The power behind it, like a f*cking wave of sound that crashed into, sent you tumbling.” He grins wide. “We’d listen, study, then make these horrendous attempts to copy it.”

Lying on my stomach, I rest my chin on my palm. Inside, I’m still a bit shaken, but talking about legends is easer. Comforting, almost. “You didn’t copy it. You found your own voice.”

Nirvana had “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Kill John has “Apathy”—our generation’s battle cry. “Apathy” drives just as hard and fast as “Teen Spirit” but there’s more pain in it, less rage. A question of why we’re here. A song of loneliness and feeling useless.

“When my parents died,” I tell him quietly, “I listened to ‘Apathy’ on a loop for a week straight. It made me feel…I don’t know, better somehow.”

Killian’s lips part in surprise, his gaze darting over my face. “Yeah?” His voice is soft. “I’m glad, Libs.”

He reaches out as if he’s afraid I’ll bite. But he’s a brave one. The tips of his fingers trace my cheek. My lids lower as he speaks, low and rumbly. “Had I been there, I’d have wanted to give you comfort.”

Warmth swells in my belly, spreading outward. I’d have wanted him to give it. I clear my throat and force my eyes open. “So it was just you and Jax at first?”

Killian sets his hand on his thigh. “Yeah. We grew up together and then both went to the same boarding school. We met Whip and Rye there.”

I have to laugh. “I can’t picture you in a boarding school.”

Killian makes a goofy face. “I was a right saint, you know. Good grades. Followed the rules.”

“So how did you become a rock star, then?”

He ducks is head, shaking it a bit. “I don’t consider myself a rock star. I’m a musician. I’ve always loved music, loved making music.”

“If you love to make music,” I ask him, “why are you here? Why not in a studio?”

His expression shuts down. “You don’t want me here?”

I want you any way I can get you.

“Here is the least likely place anyone on Earth would expect you to be.” I peer at him. “Is that why? Are you hiding?”

He snorts. “Jesus, Libs. What’s with the inquisition?”

“It’s not an inquisition,” I say calmly. “It’s a legitimate question. That you’re agitated only means I’m picking at a nerve.”

Killian lurches to his feet, his glare cutting. “Most people would stop picking.”

“Yeah, I’m annoying that way.” I stare at him, unwilling to blink.

He huffs out a breath, his hands linking behind his neck. “I don’t feel it, all right?” His bare feet slap against the floor as he paces. “I don’t want to sing. Don’t want to play. It’s just…a void.”

“When’s the last time you tried?”

He spreads his arms wide in an annoyed appeal. “I don’t want to try right now. I just want to be.” He pauses, glaring at me over his shoulder. “Is that okay with you? Am I allowed to just be for one freaking second?”

I stare at him for a long moment, then slowly rise. “You can be anything you want. It’s whether you’re happy that’s the question.”

“You’re one to talk,” he shoots back, stalking toward me. “Tell me right now that you aren’t hiding from life in this old house. Jesus, you’re a young woman living like an old lady. You won’t even let us talk about your hidden talent. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you’d rather I thought you pedaled porn.”

A slow shake starts deep in my belly, cold and hard. “I don’t want to fight with you,” I say quietly. “I just want you to be happy. And I don’t think you are.”

“Yeah, well, right back at you, babe.”

“Okay, now I’m pissed.”

He huffs, his hands on his hips as he glares down at me. “Thanks for the update. I didn’t notice.”

“Fuck you, Killian.”

His jaw pops as he grits his teeth. “You know what? Fuck it. Here’s the truth: I wasn’t happy—until I met you.”

I literally rock back on my heels, nearly blown down by his candor.

His hands fist as he takes a step closer. “I’ve been here for nearly two months. I never stay in one play that long. And why do you think I’m still here? The scenery? No. It’s you I don’t want to leave.”

“I…I don’t. You shouldn’t…” I swallow hard. No, no, no. Never fall for a musician. Isn’t that what Mama always said? They’ll break your heart the way they’re always looking over their shoulder for the next gig.

Killian’s mouth twists. “That too real for you? Shocker.”

I wince at the bitterness in his tone and try to speak calmly. “What you do, how you’ve affected the world, I can only dream of what it must be like.”