End of the Line by Nicky James

SEVEN

Leopold

We didn’t catch on the fly when we left Toronto—I’d learned what that meant and had locked it into my brain so I could speak the lingo and not look stupid. The freight we wanted—which was not the first, second, or third that went along the line that evening—pulled into the yard close to the time the gang had anticipated. Apparently, getting on the correct train wasn’t as simple as I’d thought. There was much debate, and Killian used a scanner to ensure we had the right one.

The freight came to a full stop in the yard. Its cars trailed another mile down the track in our direction. Once Killian confirmed it was the one we wanted, Dodger ran out to assess the available cars and find one that was suitable to ride. He was cloaked in darkness and moved like an oily wraith, disappearing and reappearing in the deeper shadows.

Choosing the right car, I’d been told, was extremely important, and it was better to have a lone scout than to have all five of us running around.

“The one we were on before was called a grainer,” Killian explained as we lay in the dark by a high fence with our packs on our backs, waiting for Dodger to report in. “They’re ideal for traveling because of their shape. The overhang provides some cover from the elements. Believe me, you’ll want that. Plus, they often have reasonable-size wells. The thing is, not all wells have bottoms which means they’re open to the tracks. We term them suicide rides. We don’t want them. They’re bad.”

“I heard you saying that word before.”

“You never want to ride suicide. Riding suicide means you’re in a spot with no solid bottom. You can see the tracks under your feet. There’s nowhere to sit or stand safely. One wrong step, a bit of unexpected slack tension, and it’s all over. Imagine being in a compromised position like that for hours and hours on end with the rails right below you. That’s a huge no-no. Ideally, we would love to find a boxcar with a door we can open. Even a stacker with a door. It doesn’t happen often, but every now and again we get lucky. Those are priority cars for long travel. That’s what Dodger will be looking for.”

Tyler hissed and startled us to attention as he waved a hand. “Bulls. Get down. Get down.”

Killian wrapped his arm around my neck and tucked my head down with his, our faces planted in the earth. We blended with the night, and he’d told me we would go unnoticed if we stayed low and stayed still. I heard the ATV as it moved past our area and drove along the side of the track in the near distance. Rail police or bulls. Freight-hopping was kinda illegal, Killian had told me. Kinda. Odd choice of wording. In my experience, something either was or wasn’t illegal. There was no kinda.

It came with substantial fines and possible jail time if we were caught. I didn’t want to get caught. Trespassing fines were one thing, but I had a whole other reason for wanting to avoid the police.

But… I supposed that depended on whether they’d been called to the penthouse.

I shoved that thought from my mind. There was no time to worry over things I couldn’t control.

Killian’s breath mingled with mine as we lay in the dirt. Our faces were so close our noses brushed. His hand on my neck was firm and unyielding but not in a restrictive way. It was a reminder to stay down. He was looking out for me, and I appreciated that. “Standard checks,” he said quietly enough his voice wouldn’t travel. “Nothing to worry about.”

“What about Dodger? Won’t they see him?”

Killian’s eyes smiled, the rest of his face hidden behind his mask. “That’s why we sent him. There ain’t a bull from here to kingdom come who could catch Dodger. He didn’t earn his name for nothing. He’s like a ghost.”

Once the vehicle moved off, Killian propped himself up, gave my neck a squeeze, and moved his arm away. We peeked through the fence together. Tyler and Willow were on Killian’s other side. They too scanned the tracks in both directions.

“Do you see him?” Tyler hissed.

Willow pointed to a spot a few cars down. “There. He’s by the stacker.”

I followed her finger, and there he was, stalking along the side of the train. He moved off in the opposite direction.

“Should we worry that it’s taking so long?” I asked. “Won’t the train be leaving soon?”

“Nah. We’ve got a bit of time. The thing with freight-hopping is you have to have extreme patience. Waiting for the right train to come through can take hours and hours, but also, finding the best spot to lay low once you’re on board is tricky. There are times you might get stuck in a shitty location. If that happens, your best bet is to take advantage of a shift change or when they stop for a passing train to move.”

It was a lot to take in, but I did my best to absorb everything Killian said. I didn’t want to be the dead weight his friends had called me. Dinner had gone over well. Everyone had gorged on pasta and deep-fried goodies until the containers were empty. It had won me a few points, and I didn’t want to do something stupid to lose them again.

“See that car there? The one near where Dodger hid when the bull went by?” Killian pointed. “That’s called a stacker. They’re containers, basically. They can be single like that one or stacked one on top of another. They can have nice wells on the ends, but again, some of them will be suicide rides, so you have to check.

“The one beyond it is called a gondola. They’re the lowest priority. They will do in a pinch, but they suck balls. They’re like big garbage bins, in essence. They carry crap like steel, sand, wood chips, iron ore, all kinds of stuff. They tend to be dirty and are exposed to the elements. If it rains, you’ll get soaked. You’ll notice Dodger isn’t checking them. Even if they’re empty, they aren’t worth it.”

Without warning, Killian tugged my head down, and I caught a glimpse of an ATV between the train cars. It was traveling down the opposite side of the train, moving toward the yard.

Nose to nose again, Killian asked, “Are you getting all this, or am I overwhelming you?”

“I think I’m getting it.”

“Good. I have a feeling you’re a quick study.”

There was that smile again. It made the intensity in his eyes all the more arresting. This was his thing. This was what he lived and breathed for. He loved it.

Being so close, seeing that devilish look staring back at me, made my stomach flip-flop. I hadn’t missed the way Killian had looked at me outside the outdoor store earlier in the day. The way he’d adjusted my hood and held my face between his palms. He’d openly admitted he thought I was good-looking—which had been enough to turn my blood to fire at the time.

Killian didn’t know we had something in common. He thought we were night and day. In many ways, we were. Except for that.

It wasn’t safe to reveal my secrets—not where I was from, who I was, why I was running, or that I felt an attraction to him in return. Everything about my life had blown up in the past twenty-four hours. Nothing would ever be the same again. If Killian knew the truth, he would probably leave me in the ditch, hop the train with his friends, and be gone in a heartbeat.

I admit to getting lost in the shadowy pools of his eyes and half forgetting where we were and what we were doing, but I wasn’t the only one. I wished I could see more of his face. For a heartbeat, in the ditch by the fence, a few yards from the tracks, it was just Killian and me. The rest of the world didn’t exist. His gaze slipped to the mouth hole in my balaclava where my lips poked out. A tingle erupted across my skin. Oh, how I longed for another life, one where I was nothing more than a vagabond like Killian. Where I could live freely and let the wind take me wherever I wanted. Where the only thing that mattered was the earth beneath my feet and the sky above my head.

Willow smacked Killian across the top of the head hard enough to rock him into me as she spat, “Come on, lover boy, we’re leaving. Pay attention.”

The sudden motion forced our faces so close our lips bumped. Time stuttered to a standstill if only for a beat. Something flared in Killian’s eyes, and had the other life existed, I would have kissed him right then and there—trains be damned.

I swallowed a lump.

Killian wet his lips.

The moment shattered with a burst of commotion around us. Tyler and Willow threw themselves at the chain-link fence and scaled it as fast as they could. It rattled and clanged under their weight.

We were on our feet, following them in under thirty seconds. The weight on my back affected my center of gravity. It was more troublesome than I’d predicted. The rucksack pulled heavy on my shoulders, making the climb difficult. My battered body didn’t help. The rest of them jumped from the top once they were over. It was a good ten-foot drop. When I tried to do the same, I landed on my ass, the extra weight tipping me over until I mimicked a turtle in distress.

Killian offered me a hand, and I cursed under my breath for slowing them down.

We ran down the tracks, away from the train yard and toward a stacker—I was proud of myself for having remembered that—thirteen cars away. It wasn’t a great distance in reality but far enough for me to gain a firm understanding of what Killian meant about how gear could be compromising.

I was huffing and puffing by the time we reached our destination. My bruised hip screamed. I gathered we were having some kind of a celebration when everyone fist-bumped Dodger before scrambling inside the container. He’d managed to jimmy the door open. If I remembered correctly, this was considered the ideal way to travel.

It was dark and echoey inside. Once we were all in, Dodger wedged a slim piece of metal at the opening and closed the door on it. The wedge kept it ajar a quarter of an inch.

“We don’t want it slamming shut and the lock engaging. That would be bad,” Killian explained.

He tugged me to sit at the back against the cold steel wall. When he pulled his mask off, I did the same.

The others had removed theirs too.

“What now?”

“We sit tight and stay quiet. It’s dark, so the bulls sweeping the train won’t notice the door propped a tiny bit.”

“They’ve already done their scan,” Dodger said, dropping down against a separate wall and kicking his feet out. He plucked a pack of cigarettes from a side pocket on his bag and shoved one between his lips.

Willow hissed and waved a hand at him. “Don’t you dare. Wait until we’re out of here, then go blow that lung-cancer-causing shit out the door. I don’t want to smell it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dodger said, saluting her and chuckling as he moved the cigarette behind his ear.

When he offered the pack to Killian, Killian accepted one and nestled it behind his ear too.

Willow tsked. “Aunt Nona will crucify you.”

“Aunt Nona won’t know unless you tattle.”

“Guys, shut up,” Tyler said. “Wait until we leave to talk.”

Everyone quieted down.

It didn’t take long to understand what Killian had meant about a stacker or container being a much more ideal ride. It was spacious compared to the well we’d ridden in the first time. Once we set off, there was little risk of us getting caught. We were well-protected from the wind, and it was a few degrees warmer inside than out. The noise was still impossibly loud, and I was glad for the earplugs. Regardless, it didn’t stop conversation.

“Where is the next stop?” I asked Killian after we’d been on the go for twenty minutes.

“There will be a few little stops for shift changes on the way, but our destination is Winnipeg. A solid thirty-five or more hours.”

That was a long time to be rattled around in a steel container.

Killian must have read my mind. “Let me know if you need more Tylenol.”

“So, what can you tell us about yourself, Green?” Dodger asked.

He’d moved to the doorway and had it propped open a few feet while he sucked on a cigarette. The end glowed in the dark when he took a long drag. Bright moonlight spilled through the opening, highlighting Dodger’s outline. He had his mask off but mostly kept his face inside the container unless he was blowing smoke. His hair was tied back, and his glasses cast shadows across his face making it hard to see his features or expression.

Willow had turned on a small, battery-operated lantern, but she’d tossed a T-shirt over it to dampen the light. I didn’t have to ask why. Light would bleed through the crack in the door, and if we happened across a more populated area, there would be a chance someone would see it and call it in. Killian had told me it wasn’t just bulls we hid from. It was everyone. The general public reported illegal train riders all the time.

The gang all looked at me, waiting for an answer. I knew they would respect my silence if I refused to share, but it seemed unfair to give them nothing when they’d been so kind and had taken me on.

“Um… Okay… Fun fact. Up until last night, I had never ridden on a train.”

Dodger’s hand froze halfway to his mouth, and he cocked his head to the side.

“I don’t believe that,” Tyler said.

“It’s true. I’ve flown all over the world several times, but trains are not a form of transportation I’ve ever experienced. Until now.”

“Where are you from?” Willow asked.

“Code,” Killian said before I could find a way to decline answering.

Willow shot him a dirty look, but Killian’s face was like stone.

“It was just a question. Let the guy answer. It’s not up to you to decide what he wants to share or not.”

Before Killian could come to my defense, I spoke up. “I’d rather not share. Let’s just say I’m not from around here. Although, I’m sure you gathered that already.”

Willow nodded.

An awkward tension filled the container. Tyler stirred, adjusting his seat. Dodger smoked but watched me from the corner of his eye. Willow fiddled with the assortment of pins that decorated her rucksack. Killian plucked the cigarette he’d tucked behind his ear and jumped to his feet.

“Move over,” he said to Dodger at the door.

Dodger flicked what remained of his cigarette out into the night and came to sit while Killian took his place. The silence broke when Tyler spoke. He kept his gaze averted, and his tone was hesitant. “When we get off in Winnipeg, I’m heading over to Carman. You guys can go on without me if you want. I’m not sure how long I’ll be. I don’t expect you to wait around. I just have to…”

I peered among the group when Tyler shrugged and didn’t finish the sentence. Everyone else seemed to know what he was talking about. At least it seemed that way based on the fleeting glances they shared.

“I’m in no hurry,” Willow said. “I’ll go with you if you want company. We can catch out whenever you’re done.”

Dodger glanced at Killian as though looking for his input. Killian was holding the lit cigarette out the opening of the door, but he wasn’t smoking it. “Are you in a rush, Green?”

I appreciated his use of my nickname. “No.” So long as I was on the move, I was satisfied things would be okay.

“Good. Then we’ll all go,” Killian said to Tyler. “You know we’re with you, man. All the way.”

“I just need to check.”

Willow shuffled to sit beside Tyler, who glanced among us, his face drawn and wary for reasons I couldn’t understand. Willow rested her head on his shoulder and patted his knee. The silent support was obvious. Tyler leaned against her, his gaze far away on something none of us could see. I glanced from person to person, trying to read between the lines and understand.

A somberness fell over the group after that. Killian—who hadn’t taken more than a single pull from the cigarette—flicked it out into the night and returned to his spot beside me. No one spoke for a long time. I wondered what a person did on a train with hours to kill.

* * *

I’d never heard of the game knuckles.

Five minutes into playing, I decided it was savage and brutal, and I hated it. Killian played several rounds with Dodger while I watched, horrified. Then Dodger encouraged me to take a turn.

“So, the whole idea is to hold my fists out and try to smack your knuckles before you smack mine?”

“Yep.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Are you too posh for knuckles?”

“No.”

Dodger grinned. “Then let’s do it.”

It took three solid hits from Dodger before I learned to move my hands faster. He flinched me out a few times, making me pull back in a panic. He laughed.

When I tried to get hits in, I was too slow. The man moved like lightning.

By the time we’d played for five minutes, my hands were as sore as my hip, and I backed out. Killian chuckled, and he and Dodger resumed playing.

“You’ll get better. It takes practice,” Killian said as he made a solid hit on Dodger’s knuckles, making him cry out and shake his hands as he sucked air between his teeth.

I failed to see how it was fun, but despite the repeated exclamations of pain, Killian and Dodger laughed through every competition.

Willow played a few rounds, and I was impressed when she managed to make Killian suck his knuckles and cry for mercy. She was brutal, and it was while they played that I saw the first hint of a smile on her face.

Tyler didn’t play. He seemed distant, lost in thought.

After an hour, Tyler and Willow fell asleep leaning against one another. Dodger and Killian seemed to share a silent conversation, which left me feeling out of place. I wasn’t tired and was getting more fidgety by the hour. My ass hurt sitting on the hard ground, and my battered body was screaming again. More than once, I caught myself obsessing over my hands, the subconscious itch of guilt still lingering.

At one point, when I glanced up, I caught Dodger’s eye. His attention was unnerving. He darted his gaze to Tyler, who was still sound asleep, then back to me.

When he spoke, it was with a serious tone. “There’s a guy we used to run into sometimes while on the rails. Elian. We crossed paths with him a lot. He hopped freight all the time. And I mean, all the time. More than any of us. His family is out in Carman, Manitoba. It’s a tiny little agricultural town no one’s ever heard about. Elian hated it there, but he checked in regularly. Said his mama would crucify him if he didn’t. Mostly, he lived on the fly like us.”

“More so,” Killian interrupted.

“Yeah. More so. Not sure he was ever not riding. But he was far more introverted. Not like us. The guy barely spoke a word. Super shy or something. He didn’t like traveling with groups. Said he preferred being on his own.”

Dodger glanced at Tyler again and rubbed a hand over his goatee, smoothing it into a point as he stared off into space. “So, we’d known Elian for a while, but we hadn’t spent much time with him. About two years ago, we all ended up in Winnipeg.” Another glance at Tyler.

It made me wonder if Dodger was breaking their code telling this story about Elian. It seemed like something personal that involved Tyler. Killian hadn’t stopped him, so I didn’t mention it either.

Dodger mulled over his next words.

“We don’t know for sure,” Killian said, taking over, “but we think he and Tyler might have hooked up. They had a quiet friendship, and Tyler used to light up every time we ran into Elian when we were on the rails.”

“There are a few stops across the country that are well-known to riders,” Dodger continued. “Random stations in the middle of nowhere that are commonly used for shift changes, you know. Isolated. Almost off the grid. The train comes to a full stop, and if you want to spend a few days camping out, you can because you know another train will come through. Anyhow, Ty and Elian had some sort of agreement between them. I don’t know what you’d call it. I’m not sure how it started or when, but they used to leave messages for each other in hidden locations at those stops.”

“Love letters,” Killian said, nudging me with an elbow as he wiggled his brows.

Dodger rolled his eyes. “Sure. Like that. We don’t know for sure. It was their thing. They were private about it. Maybe they were just good friends, but maybe it was more. Ty started insisting we stop at those locations so he could check to see if Elian had left him anything.” Dodger drew his lower lip into his mouth, then dragged it out from between his teeth. “Then one day, it all stopped.”

I darted my gaze from Dodger to Killian. “What do you mean?”

“Elian fell off the face of the earth. No one has seen or heard from him in about fourteen months.”

“Oh no.” I glanced at Tyler. “So that’s why he wants to go to Carman?”

“He checks in with Elian’s family whenever he can. Also with the local police to see if they have any new information. Elian wasn’t officially reported missing until eight months ago.”

“That’s terrible.”

Killian and Dodger were doing it again—the whole silent conversation thing using only their eyes.

That time, I pried. “What? What aren’t you saying?”

Killian was the one who spoke, and it was directed at Dodger. “Maybe we’ve said too much.”

Dodger huffed a frustrated breath and tugged the elastic from his hair. He didn’t speak again until he’d fixed it back in place. “Ever heard of the Boxcar Killer, Green?”

I blanched. “No.”

“Of course he hasn’t. He’s not from around here.” Killian sat up, adjusting his rucksack and leaning against it. “The Boxcar Killer was a guy named Robert Silveria. He’s in prison doing a double life sentence. He was known for killing freight riders across America in the eighties and nineties. They were able to tie about fourteen murders to him, but they believe the number is way higher. It’s kinda hard to prove if someone fell off a train or was beaten and thrown.”

My fingers grew cold, and I searched for my gloves, pulling them on and tucking my hands inside my jacket sleeves. Nausea stirred my belly. In my mind’s eye, I saw blood, felt it slick between my fingers. The world shrank to a pinprick, and above the constant noise of the rattling train, a sharp whine rang in my ears.

I must have looked adequately freaked out because Killian touched my leg. “The dude is locked up.”

“Then why are you talking about him? I don’t understand.”

“Because,” Dodger said, “there are rumors in the community that the CP Rail lines have a copycat killer.”

“It’s unproven,” Killian said.

“Doesn’t make it not true. I’ve been studying it. I’ve been keeping track of riders and accidents and who goes missing without an explanation. I would bet any money Elian fell victim to our own rail killer. They just never found his body.”

I couldn’t swallow. The lump in my throat had grown too thick.

“It’s just a hypothesis. No one knows what happen to Elian.”

“Tyler thinks it too.” Dodger eyed the sleeping man. “He just can’t bring himself to say it out loud. What else could have happened?”

My teeth chattered, and Killian wrapped an arm around me, dragging me closer. “Enough,” he said to Dodger. “You’re freaking him out. They’re just stories. Myths. The real Boxcar Killer is in prison. There’s no proof there’s a copycat out there.”

Dodger shrugged and found another cigarette. He took it to the door of the container and smoked in silence.

It wasn’t so much the idea of a rail killer that had me unsettled. It was how swiftly the talk had resurfaced my own guilt. One minute, I was able to push it all from my mind, then it was back with all too much clarity, making my heart race and skin prickle.

* * *

The sun warmed my cheeks and bled through my closed eyelids as I tipped my face to the sky. The wind ruffled my hair, whipping it this way and that. It was midmorning. We’d been on the train for nine hours. Killian had encouraged me to join him outside. We were traveling through the vast countryside with civilization a long way away.

There was a moderate well at the end of the stacker, so we both stood and leaned against the side, watching the world pass by. Willow’s voice carried from inside the container every now and again. She was singing, banging out a rhythm on the walls, crooning a tune Killian had told me was a Willow original and one of his favorites. Tyler and Dodger were involved in a competitive game of cards.

When I opened my eyes, I caught Killian watching me. “What? Why are you staring?”

“No reason.” He peered across the endless field, but a quirk remained at the corner of his mouth. He had that devilish look about him again.

Birds swooped and dove in the distance, nothing more than silhouettes against the powder-blue sky. From our vantage point, the world seemed to go on forever like it might never end no matter how far we traveled. Never in my life had a sight like this given me such a sensation in my chest. I couldn’t describe it. Not exactly. But it was freeing. The binds that had restricted me all my life no longer existed. I could breathe deeply for the first time.

Killian was watching me again from the corner of his eye. I felt it.

His presence was reassuring and had kept me grounded when I’d been certain I was going to fall apart with panic earlier. Talk of killers had upset my balance. Riding into the unknown with trouble on my tail had too.

“Can I ask you something?” My voice croaked, and I cleared my throat.

Killian turned, his focus as riveted to me as it had been the landscape. “Anything.”

“Why did you and Dodger tell me those things about Tyler? Aren’t they personal? You talk of codes, but it felt like that was something Tyler might not want some new guy to know. How do I know you’ll keep my secrets when I fall asleep when you so readily expose other people’s?”

Killian shifted, leaning with one arm against the side of the well. “I can see how that might have looked.”

I copied his lean. “It looked bad.”

Killian wet his lips with a slow draw of his tongue. “We’ve known Ty a long time. He’s an open book. His friendship with Elian isn’t a secret. Everyone in the community knows about it. Especially since he’s gone missing. It wasn’t something Ty shared with us in confidence. He would have told you himself had you asked why he wanted to go to Carman. What it is, is painful. Knowing Ty the way I do, he’ll be thankful that he doesn’t have to be the one to get you up to speed. The more time that passes, the more Ty has come to realize Elian is probably dead somewhere. I hate to say it, but it’s true.”

“That’s sad. Do you think there’s a railroad killer like the one from before?”

Killian rolled his eyes and chuckled. “No. I don’t know. Sure, the world is full of bad people, but rail riders have accidents all the time. Even the pros. It’s dangerous. All it takes is one mistake, one wrong step, and it’s all over. Is someone out there taking out riders for sport? I don’t think so. Dodger is obsessed with the myth, though. He’s convinced there’s a copycat. Elian isn’t the only one who’s gone missing. There have been others, but who’s to say they didn’t get tossed in the slammer? That might put a halt to anyone’s riding days, right?”

“I guess. Were they really a couple?”

A mischievous grin split Killian’s face. “Now that is pure speculation. Ty has never admitted there was more between him and Elian. We’ve asked, and he just says they were good friends.”

I absorbed it all. “It’s still sad.”

“It is. And Ty can’t seem to let it go. He’s been on the rails a lot more lately. Looking. Hoping. We’ll go with him. We’ll support him. That’s what friends do.”

I turned back to the rushing landscape, pondering all I’d learned. Two of the men in the group and possibly Willow were more like me than I realized. It was oddly comforting. Was Dodger the same? Did their little clan come together for that reason? Because they all had something in common, or was it a coincidence? It felt too fantastical to have been a coincidence.

In my world, my sexuality had gotten me in trouble. There were expectations placed on me at a young age, and I could never live up to them. Even if I’d wanted to. I had tried. A twinge of jealousy and regret stabbed my chest.

“Are you warm enough?” Killian asked, brushing his fingers over mine. His touch lingered.

I’d left my gloves and hat inside. The shells of my ears ached with the wind, but I was enjoying the scenery too much to leave.

“I’m okay. You?” His attention was on me and not the land.

Killian’s brows were thick, dark, and expressive. Patchy facial hair speckled his jaw and somehow accented his sharp cheekbones and shapely lips. “I don’t feel the cold. Your ears are red.” He lifted a hand and brushed a thumb around the circumference of one. “You should have your hat on.” Then he threaded his fingers through my knotted hair, trying to push it back off my forehead with little success. He chuckled when they got tangled in the mess. “You’ll never get a brush through this.”

I chuckled and grimaced when he gave another tug before releasing.

Killian went out of his way to touch me. I didn’t think it was my imagination.

“Come here.” He turned me and cupped his hands over my ears, grinning. “Better?”

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping your ears warm.”

How his hands held any heat at this point, I had no idea, but they were a blazing inferno against my chilled skin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m looking out for you, Green. Being a friend.”

“Are you going to stand with your hands over my ears the whole time we’re out here? I may as well get my hat.”

We both laughed, but instead of removing his hands, he slipped them down until they cradled my cheeks—the same way he’d done twice before. The look on his face shifted. Questions arose behind his striking eyes. Ones I didn’t know how to answer. Ones I thought he’d guessed on his own.

He brushed his thumbs over my skin, grazing my lips. I didn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

“Can I ask you something?”

This was it. He was going to ask if I was gay, and how could I deny it? I could tell him the truth or lie to spare his feelings. He wouldn’t believe me if I lied. I didn’t want Killian tangled up in my mess. It wouldn’t be fair. Even if I hadn’t ruined everything back in Montreal, even if I wasn’t a fugitive, there was no place for a guy like Killian in my world.

“Sure.” The word came out strangled.

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

My lips parted. That was not what I was expecting him to ask.