Mo Grá| Derek Morgan

chapter twenty

The warmth radiated from my palm, a reminder of the impulsive slap I had just gave to Elliot. It was a reflexive gesture born from my frustration. As I instinctively backed away from him, I anticipated an explosive reaction—anger etched across his face. But when I finally dared to look back at him, I was taken aback by the unexpected tranquility that washed over his features. His eyes, usually so expressive, remained steady and devoid of any fury.

"No, I—I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice low and steady, almost soothing. "I shouldn't have overstepped."

I felt an overwhelming urge to run, to escape the palpable awkwardness that enveloped us, but I found myself stuck in place, knowing I had nowhere else to go. Elliot's demeanor exuded a sense of understanding that caught me off guard.

"Do you want a drink?" he offered, and I nodded a little too eagerly, as if the mere thought of a drink could somehow wash away my worries. I followed him into the kitchen, where he retrieved two glasses from the cabinet while I settled into a chair at the wooden table, its surface cool beneath my fingertips.

"What did Killian say to you tonight?" he inquired, his tone gentle as he poured the drinks. I took a deep breath, trying to steady the tremor in my voice. "He told me that—" I began, my words faltering. "That he's going to kill me."

Elliot paused for a brief moment, his brow furrowing slightly in disbelief. "Kill you? Jesus Christ." I took a sip of the whiskey, as I nodded.

"I don't know, I thought he was bluffing. But looking into his eyes, I could tell he wasn't. This isn't the same Killian I was in love with. He's... different—he's evil." I cast my gaze down at the glass in my hand, swirling the liquid inside. Elliot nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Well, that's not the truth, is it? He's always had that side to him, you just couldn't see it."

"I know," I admitted, a sigh escaping my lips. "I sensed something was off from the beginning. I knew he wasn't just a club owner, but there was something about him that drew me in—something enchanting. I loved him so much, I thought that was it. I was so happy when he asked me to marry him. It was perfect. Yet I guess every good thing comes to an end hmm?"

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving my face as he listened with unwavering attention. "Anyways," I said, shaking my head to shift the focus.

"So, what have you been up to all this time?" Elliot asked softly, picking up on my desire to change the subject.

"Im a FBI agent, working with the BAU unit," I replied, a hint of pride in my voice. "But that's ruined now, they're looking for Killian as our unsub. I even had a somewhat complicated relationship with a guy on my team."

"Well," he retorted. "I'm sure they'll understand once you explain everything."

As we continued to talk about how his life has been since we last seen eachother, the whiskey worked its magic, loosening my tongue and allowing me to share thoughts and feelings I hadn't anticipated. The way Elliot listened—genuinely engaged—made me feel safe, even though the memory of the slap still lingered in the back of my mind.

With each sip of whiskey, the world around me began to soften, my inhibitions dissolving like sugar in water. Laughter bubbled up as I leaned forward in my chair, sharing stories from my past and what it was like working for the FBI.

"So, uh, where are your kids? Where's Kathy?" I asked, just now realizing the absence that lingered in the house. Elliot paused, taking a deep breath as he answered, "Uh, they're staying with Kathy's mom."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I replied, instinctively feeling the weight of his situation. But he stood up, shaking his head dismissively. "No, it's fine really. Apparently, I'm too mad all the time."