Idol (VIP 1)
The crowd awws, and he gives them his cheeky smile. “I know. I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”
“I love you, Killian,” shouts a woman at the back. “Have my babies!”
“No,” cries a man near the stage, “have mine!”
Killian chuckles low in the mic. “Sorry, guys. I’m taken.” While the crowd moans, he grins and switches out his Telecaster for a big acoustic Gibson J-200, plucking a few chords. “Thing is, I still want her to like me. So I’m not gonna play a Kill John song right now. I’m gonna play an old favorite of mine. And maybe I’ll get the message right this time.”
There’s a wolf whistle in the crowd.
Jax leans close to his mic. “You’d better, or we’re benching you for the rest of the game.”
People laugh again, but I’m stuck on the happy grins Jax and Killian exchange. Gone is the underlying tension that’s seemed to ride them, replaced by an easy joy and appreciation for each other that brings a lump to my throat. The band is in perfect sync as they start to play “Trying To Break Your Heart” by Wilco.
A half-laugh, half-sob breaks free. His choice is quintessential Killian; he’d never go for a straightforward, saccharine love song. But this song, with its twisted lyrics and gently teasing remorse, makes perfect sense to me. The music is lilting and bittersweet and full of possibility.
Tears blur my vision, and I’m laughing again. Laughing and crying.
He catches my gaze, and his eyes soften. Through the lyrics, he tells me how much it hurt to let me go. How much I hurt him. How much he wants me back.
My feet start moving. I weave through the swaying crowd, Joe helping to clear a path. Killian watches me come, his whole heart shining in his eyes. He’s calling to me, singing that he’s the man who loves me.
By the time I reach the stage, it’s apparent to the audience that something’s going on. People make room, their smiles wide. But not as wide as Killian’s.
Setting his guitar down, he strides over and holds out his arms. The second our hands clasp, something inside me relaxes. He hauls me up with ease, and then I’m in his arms. Holding tight, his long, lean body surrounds me, a shelter from all things.
He’s sweat-slicked and trembling. My nose is crushed against his pec. I don’t ever want to let go.
“Libby,” he breathes into my hair. “You’re here.”
If anything, he holds me tighter. It’s okay. I don’t need air. Just him.
I turn my head and find his jaw with my lips. “You asked me to come. In the song. You asked me to come back to you.”
He bursts out in a broken laugh that makes his chest hitch. “You got that? No one else did.”
I close my eyes, let him support me. “No one else matters.”
He shivers harder. “Only you, Libs.”
Suddenly I hear the crowd again, hooting and shouting. Killian must hear them too because he lifts his head, giving them a wave and a smile. I see the blur of stage lights, dozens of phones held overhead, and Jax’s wink. Then Killian hurries me off the stage, refusing to let me go.
He doesn’t stop until we’re alone in a small dressing room.
I don’t know who moves first, but the door closes, and I’m wrapped in him. I’ve missed the way he feels, his taste, the scent of him. His hands bracket my cheeks, his mouth moving over mine.
“I missed you,” he says between frantic kisses. “I missed you so fucking much. I shouldn’t have let you go.” He kisses my eyes, my cheeks, the corner of my ear. “I thought I was setting you free. But it killed me. I need you, Libs. So much.”
“I know.” I cup the back of his neck and squeeze as I meet his gaze. “It was the same for me. I was just…empty.”
Dark, pained eyes search mine. “And then that stupid song. You wouldn’t answer me. I thought—”
“I’m sorry,” I cut in. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just needed to think things through. And I wanted to talk in person.”
He nods before dipping down to rest his forehead against mine. “What are you thinking, baby doll? What do you want?”
“You.” When he jerks, I grip his hard biceps. “I just want to be with you.”
“Good. Because I don’t think I can function anymore unless you’re here.”
“I missed you,” I tell him. I don’t think I can express it enough.
For a long moment he just looks at me. “I made a career off writing songs. They’ve given me awards for my lyrics. And never can I get the message right with you.”
“I don’t need you to—”
“I love you.”
My breath catches in my throat as my heart stops. I exhale in a burst, and he kisses my lips softly. So softly. The tenderness in it breaks me. I nearly sob when he does it again.