Dancing with a stranger

Chapter|14 ✨

I woke up to an empty bed—Kian was nowhere in sight. I changed into shorts and a t-shirt and headed downstairs, where he was at the stove, flipping pancakes. He didn't look at me but spoke casually, "Hope you like pancakes," as he handed me a plate stacked with three fluffy ones and syrup.

I sat down, and Kian joined me. The pancakes were soft, warm, perfect. I didn't say anything, just ate, feeling a wave of relief wash over me as he smiled from across the table, making more for himself.

"Thanks... for everything," I said quietly, gratitude threading through my voice.

"Don't worry about it," he replied, calm as ever.

I hesitated, then continued, needing someone to understand. "Can I ask... what happened? I thought both my mother and brother were dead. But I found my brother alive—and my mother, she... she's the one who kidnapped me. She set up that fake drug run to catch me. That's when I escaped, ended up at the gas station..."

Kian's eyes softened. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, sympathy in his tone.

I glanced at the clock. "I should go before Steele gets worried. Can you drop me at my father's?"

"Yeah, no problem," Kian replied, standing and grabbing his keys. We walked to the garage together.

The car ride was silent, but not uncomfortable. Kian dropped me off at the gate, making sure my father wouldn't ask questions.

Inside, Grace tackled me to the ground. "Never leave me again," she said, voice breaking as she helped me up.

I called Steele. "I'm home safe," I told him. He was on his way. My father wasn't there, but Grace reassured me that he knew I was safe.

After telling Grace everything, she was as shocked as I was. "I can't believe your mother is alive... and that your brothers helped her."

I hugged her tightly and left for Steele's car. Relief and unease warred inside me, but at least I was with Steele now.

Back at Steele's house, I dropped my bag on the bed and headed straight for the shower. I scrubbed my skin raw, trying to wash away the feeling of being trapped and violated by my mother. Even under the hot water, the memory clung to me.

Sleep didn't come. When 7:45 a.m. rolled around, I gave up and decided to train with Ashton, leaving Steele a note and tucking a knife into my leggings—just in case.

At the gym, Ashton had me working the punching bag, moving through drills until I could zone out on the treadmill with my headphones on. It was easier that way.

Hours later, I left, changed, and headed to a diner for a late breakfast. I ordered a burger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake with a cherry on top.

Then I saw him—Kian, walking in with a leather jacket, rare for him. I tried to ignore him, looking out the window, but he spotted me instantly.

"Wow, we really need to stop running into each other," he joked, sliding into the booth.

"How are you feeling?" he asked casually.

"Okay. I worked out not long ago," I replied.

When the waitress took his order—same meal, strawberry milkshake—he smirked as I swiped the cherry and tied the stem with my tongue. "Impressive," he said, grin matching mine.

After finishing, he insisted on paying. Outside, we lingered at my car.

"Have a good night," he said, waving before heading to his own car.

Inside, Steele was waiting at the kitchen table, photos spread in front of him—surveillance shots of me and Kian, including the diner.

I threw them down in frustration and stood, but Steele grabbed my wrist. "Not until you tell me what this is about," he insisted. "Your family hates him. He's no good, and you know our fathers despise each other."

I yanked my wrist free and sank back into my chair, arms crossed. "Not much to tell. He just needed refills—my father's good stuff, not the cheap stuff from the lower side of town."

It wasn't the full truth, but I wouldn't tell Steele everything. He shook his head, disbelief plain on his face.

I stood again, fists clenched. "I need some space." I stormed out, leaving the tension behind, if only for a moment