Thoughtful (Thoughtless, #1.5)(179)

Kiera peeked up at me, saw the resolution on my face, then shifted her gaze to the floor.

Leaning down, I gently touched the top of her head. When she looked up at me again, I gave her a soft smile. She was so beautiful. “Can you drive?” I asked, remembering how distraught she had been the last time Denny had left on a plane.

I thought she’d say no, but her face shifted from despair to determination, and she gave me a stiff nod. She wanted to get through this on her own. Proud of her, I extended a hand and helped her stand up.

She stumbled as she stood, and braced herself with a hand on my chest, right over my tattoo. I hadn’t removed the bandage yet, and the area was still a smidge on the sore side. I flinched before I could stop myself. Holding my breath, I hoped she didn’t ask what was wrong. But there was so much wrong with this situation that she didn’t ask, and I relaxed.

Removing her hand from my chest, I held her fingers in mine. A part of me never wanted to let go.

Staring into my eyes, her own a heartbroken shade of jade, she murmured, “I’m so sorry, Kellan—I was wrong.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but I didn’t have it in me to ask. Holding her, being next to her, it felt too nice. I needed to get away. My head lowered to hers, hers lifted to mine, and our lips met in a warm, soft kiss. It would be so easy to ask her to take me back, to ask her if we could try again. But I needed more, and all I could hear on a never-ending loop was “Him.”

I made myself break away from the multiple tiny, hungry kisses I was giving her. Not caving in to a full, lengthy kiss made my heart spike, my breath quicken. I wanted her, but that was nothing new. I still couldn’t have her. Dropping her hands, I forced myself to take a step back. “I’m sorry too, Kiera. I’ll see you…around.”

Turning, I got out of there as quickly as I could before my willpower evaporated. I knew I’d just lied to her when I said I’d see her around. The only way Kiera and I would get through this was if we remained apart. She would live her life, I would live mine, and Denny would live his. It was time for all three of us to move on.

If only I could.



Days passed. Then weeks. Then months. My cast was removed, my bruises faded, my cuts vanished. By the look of me, you’d never know I’d had my ass thoroughly kicked. No, there were no more physical reminders of that night’s carnage. But the wound on my heart? That one was still seeping, oozing, and infecting the rest of my body with poisonous toxins that would surely kill me one day. I had become a bitch to be around. Even I knew it.

It may as well have been Groundhog Day over and over, because my life never changed. I woke up, exercised, had coffee, worked on lyrics, met with the guys, then spent the night either drinking or playing, or both. I was alive, but I wouldn’t call what I was doing living. I drank a lot, cursed a lot, and generally gave people curt, sullen answers to their questions. My patience was all but gone. I hated every day that went by that I didn’t get to see her face, hear her voice, touch her skin.

I even lunged at Griffin a time or two. The first incident was after he’d said, “Dude, why don’t you go find a nice toy store downtown and buy yourself a strap-on, since it’s obvious your dick has been sawed off.” Matt had spared Griffin from a broken nose by about two seconds.

The next time I’d gone after Griffin, he’d purchased a “friend” for me, like he had for Matt a while back. After I’d politely turned the aggressive girl down, I’d found Griffin and asked him if that was his doing. “I’m just trying to help you out, man. You need to f*ck something before you explode.” I’d “exploded” on Griffin. Matt hadn’t been fast enough that time, and Griffin sported a black eye for weeks, Of course, he wore it as a badge of honor and used it to pick up women.

He was still seeing Anna though, and every time they got together, my mood darkened. She looked so much like Kiera, it was painful. I wanted them to break up so I could stop being around the constant reminder of what I’d lost, but the two of them were still going at it. All I could do was suck it up and deal with it.

“Hey, Kellan,” Anna said to me one night. She was dressed in her work uniform—bright orange shorts and a tight white tank top with the word “Hooters” right over her chest. Every guy in the bar was eyeing her, except me. I was trying to avoid looking at her.

“Hey,” I said, studying the bottle in my hands.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hand start to reach out for me, but she stopped herself and laced her fingers on the table. “How are things?” she asked.

“Fine.”

She leaned forward, her dark hair brushing against the table. It was clear from her posture that she wanted me to look at her, but I didn’t. “Do you need anything?” she asked.

Beer. Peace and quiet. More beer. And your sister…

“No.”

I took a long swig of my drink, but Anna didn’t leave. After I set it down again, she leaned toward me and whispered, “Matt told me about your tattoo. Did you really…?”

I peeked up at her with cold eyes and she stopped talking. I wanted to ask her if Kiera knew about the tattoo, but I didn’t. It didn’t matter if she did know. I sullenly returned my eyes to my bottle, and Anna sighed in defeat. Standing, she put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a friendly squeeze. She started to walk away, then paused, like she was debating what to do. Leaning down, she whispered into my ear, “She misses you too.”