Chapter 3 No One's First Choice

Aria didn't sleep.

She lay in the enormous guest bed, tangled in sheets that smelled faintly of detergent and nothing else, staring up at a ceiling too high and too white. Her skin felt electric. Her thoughts wouldn't shut up.

Somewhere down the hallway, a pipe groaned. A floorboard creaked. This house made even silence feel expensive.

She turned over and checked her phone. 1:42 AM. Devon had sent six memes and two selfies. One message read:

ARE YOU KISSING HIM YET???

Followed by:

Is the brother hot???

Aria didn't respond. She just let the screen fade to black and stared at her own reflection in the dark glass.

In the stillness, she let her mind wander-dangerous territory.

Back to earlier. Jace's arms around her. His voice, soft with affection but missing all the words she wanted to hear. "You always make it better." "You're the one person I can trust."

Not "I choose you."

Not "I see you."

She rolled out of bed and pulled Jace's hoodie over her tank top. It smelled like him-cologne and fading detergent. She shouldn't still be wearing it. But she always wore it when she needed comfort, and she didn't have much else to reach for tonight.

Barefoot, she crept down the hall. She didn't turn on any lights. She didn't need to. She remembered this house-every too-perfect corner of it. The way her footsteps seemed to echo more than they should. The way even the furniture looked like it didn't want to be touched.

Downstairs, she passed the sitting room and moved toward the back of the house. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a stone patio that stretched toward the tree line. The glass shimmered with condensation.

She pushed the door open and stepped into the night.

Cold air wrapped around her instantly. Sharp, clean. The sky was so clear it looked fake, stars burning low between jagged clouds. Her breath fogged in front of her. It felt good. Like punishment.

She stood there for maybe thirty seconds before she sensed it-movement, subtle and male.

Killian.

He didn't announce himself. Just emerged from the shadows like he'd always been there.

He wore a black sweater and dark pants, the collar of a crisp shirt visible beneath the neckline. He carried a lowball glass filled with something amber. He didn't look at her right away. He didn't need to.

"You always sneak around in the middle of the night," he asked, "or is this part of the performance?"

Aria froze.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, voice clipped.

"You're not the only one."

She looked over. "And what's keeping you up? Regret?"

Killian smirked faintly. "Regret implies I did something wrong."

She didn't answer. She didn't have the energy.

He stepped closer, just enough for the porch light to sketch the planes of his face in gold and shadow. There was something unsettling about how still he was. Jace vibrated with chaos. Killian hummed with control. But it wasn't calm-it was containment.

"Helping Jace win her back," Killian said, "is impressively stupid."

Aria crossed her arms over her chest. "Glad to know the whole family thinks so."

He took a slow sip from his glass. "The whole family thinks nothing. I speak for myself."

"Well, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Killian's eyes flicked to her, sharp as glass. "You've been in love with him for years. And now you're going to help him crawl back to the woman who wrecked him."

"I'm not helping him crawl," she snapped. "I'm helping him stand up."

Killian gave a dry laugh. "He doesn't want to stand. He wants her to come kneel."

Her cheeks burned, but she didn't back down.

"You're wrong about him."

"Am I?"

"You don't know Jace anymore."

"I know him better than he thinks," Killian said quietly. "Better than you think, too."

She looked away, jaw tight.

He took a step closer, and she felt it-an actual shift in the air between them. Like he was dragging his gravity behind him.

"You think you're the good one in all this," he said. "The loyal friend. The martyr. But if you were really so selfless, you wouldn't be here."

That hit harder than it should have.

"I'm here because he asked me to be," she said.

"No," Killian said, low and certain. "You're here because you've been waiting ten years for him to ask you for anything. And now he finally has, and it doesn't matter what he's asking, does it? You'd say yes no matter what it cost."

Aria's throat felt tight. "You don't know me."

"I know people like you."

"Well, then let me return the favor." She straightened her shoulders. "You're not nearly as unreadable as you think you are."

He smiled, slow and dangerous. "Try me."

"You're angry. All the time. And you hide it under arrogance and stillness. You talk like you're in control, but all I hear is someone who's afraid of what might happen if he ever lets go."

Killian's expression didn't change.

But his silence did.

She felt it like pressure, like the weight of a held breath between them.

"I'm not afraid of losing control," he said after a beat. "I'm afraid of what happens when people like you think you're in charge."

Aria's pulse kicked.

She hated how he looked at her. Like he saw straight through her. Like he saw things she hadn't let anyone see-not even herself.

"You think I'm weak," she said.

"I think you're used to being underestimated," Killian replied. "So am I."

He turned then, glass still in hand, walking toward the steps that led down into the dark garden.

She almost let him go.

Almost.

"Why does it matter to you?" she asked suddenly. "What I do. What Jace wants."

He paused, halfway to the shadowed stairs.

When he turned back to face her, his voice was calm. Controlled.

"Because when this falls apart," he said, "and it will-you won't be the only one who breaks."

Then he vanished into the dark.

And Aria was left alone.

Shivering.