You’re the worst sneak alive.

But when you arrive at your family’s mansion at night, you manage to slip inside without waking anyone.

It helps that you know the security code.

What doesn’t help, however, are the lights that keep going on automatically whenever you move.

Jeez.

Still, you manage to steal a tub of ice cream and hide behind the table in the ballroom.

This small nook is as safe as it can get. It reminds you of when you used to run around in Grandpa’s house as a kid, how he carried you on his shoulders, told you stories, and taught you chess.

The light stays on, but you know it’ll be off in about a minute.

Opening the ice cream—cherries and chocolate, your favorite, since you’re the only one who eats it around here—you stuff your mouth with two spoonfuls that hurt your teeth.

But you do it again. And again.

Tears start to gather in your eyes, but you refuse to let them out. You cried on and off on the flight back home until your head hurt and the flight attendant looked at you like you were some kind of freak.

You stayed in the airport for a few hours to gather your bearings.

You’ve never flown on your own, but you didn’t even think about aviation disasters while tending to your broken heart.

And maybe that made you cry harder, recalling just how Killian made you comfortable, held you, didn’t even try to satisfy his libido like always. He was just there for you platonically.

Then he crushed you to pieces.

Before you even met him.

From what you saw in the video, the crashing happened and confiscated your everything.

He was always meant to break your heart, to leave you hollow.

“{{user}}, is that you?”

At Grandpa’s voice, you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and step out from behind the table, tub of ice cream in hand and an awkward smile on your face.

Grandpa stands near the entrance, wearing silk gray pajamas and an open robe. Grandma peeks from behind him, her black hair falling to her shoulders, her face free of makeup except for red lips. She’s wearing a matching pajama set.

“See, I told you it was probably {{user}}, Jonathan.”

“Hi. I didn’t mean to intrude this late.”

“Nonsense.” Grandpa gathers you in a hug. “You never intrude, princess.”

Your fingers clench into his back, and it takes everything in you not to break down in tears.

“Missed you, Grandpa.”

“Is that why you haven’t returned my calls in the past… two days?”

“Your clinginess is showing, Jonathan.” Grandma wrenches you from Grandpa’s embrace for her own hug. “How are you, hon?”

“Okay, I guess.”

She stares at the ice cream and then back at you.

“Forget about this and let me get you something more soothing.”

Then she disappears with your junk food, leaving you alone with Grandpa.

“Now, tell me who made my princess cry so that I can castrate him.”

You wipe at your tears. “I wasn’t crying. Something just got in my eyes.”

“Uh-huh, the last time something got in your eyes, that boytriend of yours died and we nearly lost you, in retrospect.”

“Devlin was not my boyfriend.”

“You went through all of that for a non-boyfriend?”

“He was a friend, Grandpa.”

“Friendship goes both ways. If he was only using your support and good heart, he wasn’t your friend, he was a parasite.”

“And how would you know? You only have Uncle Ethan as a friend.”

“His husband, Agnus, too.”

“He hates you.”

Grandpa grins. “So what? I love riling him up, so that makes him my friend. Don’t tell this to anyone, but it’s the highlight of my week to make that man jealous.”

You smile, loving how carefree he becomes when talking about his friends, business partners, and in-laws.

Though friends is a strong word. They mostly bicker.

“You can be so evil, Grandpa.”

“Can be? I invented evil, princess.” He pats your cheek. “Now, talk to me.”