Chapter 10

MORNING GLOW AND NIGHT SHADOWS

10

I wake to the smell of sizzling bacon and the clanking of pans. Blinking, I stare up at the familiar ceiling of my parents' living room. Even if I should be disappointed at being back in the real world, I can't stop a smile from spreading across my face as memories of last night replay in my head. Killian's mouth on mine, his fingers tangled in my hair… I touch two fingers to my lips; they almost feel swollen as if I really spent the entire night making out with a hot cowboy…

I let out a contented sigh.

"Is that you, honey?" Mom calls from the kitchen. "Breakfast is almost ready. Hope you're hungry."

My cheeks flush as I sit up on the lumpy couch. I finger-comb my tangled hair. "Starving," I call back, my voice still raspy with sleep.

Mom appears in the doorway, spatula in hand. She eyes my messy bedhead and grinning face. "Morning, darling." And she's gone again.

I push myself up from the couch and make my way to the kitchen. Mom's humming to herself as she flips pancakes on the griddle. Dad sits at the table, sipping his coffee and reading the morning paper.

"Good morning, sunshine," he says, looking up from his paper and smiling at me.

"Morning," I reply, pouring myself a cup of coffee and taking a seat next to him.

Mom sets a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of me, and I just can't stop smiling.

"So, what's got you in such a good mood this morning?" Mom asks, sitting across from me.

Since I can't tell them I'm fantasizing about a kiss that didn't happen with a man who doesn't exist, I deflect. "Oh, nothing, an email from school with potentially good news. But it's too early to say."

Dad raises an eyebrow but doesn't press me for details. Instead, he changes the subject to something more mundane, discussing the headlines from the paper, the weather forecast promising sunshine and clear skies, and the neighbor's cat who seems to have taken a liking to our garden. Their voices become a comfortable background hum as my mind drifts back to Killian. I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin, sending shivers down my spine despite the warm kitchen.

I take a bite of pancake, the sweetness of syrup mingling with the savory bacon. I chew slowly, savoring the flavors as memories of last night continue to fill my mind.

"Honey? Did you hear your dad ask you about helping us with the garden later?" Mom's voice pulls me back to the present, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Oh, um, yeah. Sure, I can help out," I manage to say, as my cheeks warm.

My parents have taken half a day off to be with me, gardening is just an excuse to do something together. That's how we spend the morning, and I make a conscious effort to actually pay attention to them and not get lost in my dream world again. Then, after a quick lunch of leftovers from the party, they have to drive me back to the station.

Dad parks the car, and we share one last hug before I board the train.

Since no one is sitting next to me, I set an alarm for my expected arrival time and try to nap. But sleep evades me for the entire journey.

The rhythmic clacking of the train's wheels on the tracks keeps time with my racing thoughts. Outside the window, landscapes blur into an indistinct tapestry of greens and browns, punctuated by infrequent splashes of color from passing towns. But all I can think about is going back to Lakeville Hills, back to him.

I finally make it home mid-afternoon. I unpack and do a load of laundry in the basement while I check my emails—mostly bizarre excuses from students on why they're late with their assignments, which I don't reply to.

With all the research hours I've missed by going home, I should be working late tonight. Instead, I find myself pondering what time would be considered too early to go to bed? Is 6p.m. acceptable? That I'm contemplating hitting the sack before the sun has even fully set is a blaring red flag.

Besides research, I've still got a ton of papers to read and homework to grade.

I really shouldn't brush all that off to escape to dreamland. But… Killian kissed me… and I can make up for the lost work over the weekend. It's not like I have a social life that will get in the way.

It's decided. I'm tucking in early.

I slip into my coziest pajamas and slide under the covers. At once, my mind snags back to Killian, to the kiss that's so vivid in my memory it seems too real to have just been a fantasy.

I pick up the mystery book without opening it, hug it to my chest, and close my eyes. But sleep keeps eluding me for the longest time. Partly because it's way too early to be napping—my sleep hormones haven't caught up to my new irresponsible lifestyle. And partly because the excitement mixed with anxiety at the prospect of kissing Killian again isn't exactly conducive to sleep.

It takes a while, but finally, my lids become heavy, my head lolls on the pillow, and then I'm dreaming…