Against All Odds

Chapter 28

STELLA

Seven Years Ago

"You OK?" Killian asked, coming to stand in front of me and cage me in. His head dipped down, forehead against mine, his hands on either side of my hips as they rested against the edge of the kitchen sink.

"Mmm hmm." His presence helped to take some of the edge off the encounter with his mother not a few seconds ago. Her coldness and outward disapproval of me, once again, had made me retreat to the kitchen in search of some composure.

"When are you going to take this off?" He plucked at my hip, at the black fabric of the graduation gown I still wore.

"Enjoying the moment," I told him. My arms wrapped around his waist, hugging his body against mine and finding so much comfort in every solid inch of him. With him, near him, like this- everything felt so much better. "I'll only be graduating once."

He snorted at that. "You get another ceremony next year for your postgrad."

"I won't be attending that, Kills. I'll be too far away in the city and hopefully working."

He didn't say anything to that. Instead, he shifted away and smiled down at me. "Come on, Stels. You can't hide away in the kitchen all day. Let's go have a drink with mum and dad."

My mood plummeted, but I hid it from him with a smile. I didn't want to ruin the day for him, knowing how important it was to Killian to have his parents with him right then, especially after graduating. "I'll get changed first and then join you in the lounge."

Later, after removing the gown and the more formal attire I had under it, I padded into the lounge wearing a pair of torn black jeans and a grungy t-shirt that had seen better days. It earned a fleeting glance of distaste from his mother, but thankfully the three occupants were well into a conversation when I entered and placed myself beside Killian on the other end of the sofa where his mother sat.

"Killian tells us that you are hoping to travel after this year," Mr Beckett enquired politely of me once the topic had dwindled to nothingness.

I turned to him with a polite smile. I held nothing against Killian's father, our relationship bordering on aloof, but I did find the man a bit intimidating. There was power, obviously, that came with his money, and the Beckett's seemed to enjoy lauding this influence- especially over me. "Well, I would like to- yes. But I have also been looking at working up in Johannesburg for a few years to gain experience first," I answered. "Moving overseas is something Killian and I have both spoken about and seem to agree that we both want to do... at some point."

"Not with your affliction, darling, surely," Pauline said, affronted, as she leaned over to put a hand on Killian's forearm. "You haven't been able to step foot on the plane since the accident-"

"It wasn't an accident," I interjected, "and with some counselling-"

"Counselling?" Pauline's head snapped back, as if I had lobbed a piece of shit at her. Ah, yes, the concept of seeing a therapist to tend to one's mental health- how absurd! Perish the thought! "There is nothing wrong with Killian's mind!"

"That's not what counselling is for," I protested, feeling my cheeks grow hot. This was why I hated conversing with Pauline- we would never see eye to eye, no matter how much I curbed my tongue, no matter how much I tried...

"He doesn't need it," she said, resolute, as if the matter was put to rest.

I looked at Killian, hoping for affirmation, hoping that he would interject with words that he had spoken to me when his parents weren't present. That he'd admitted he needed to speak to a therapist, especially one who was adept at dealing with post traumatic stress disorder.