Dinner that night is quiet. Considering the fact that Killian and I aren’t very talkative, the quiet is the sort of quiet that is welcomed and comfortable. The only sound heard is the sound of cutlery, and the background noise of the television. As he is eating, he keeps stealing glances at me, more specifically at my shoulder. I don’t say anything about it because I know if he wants to say something he will say it.
When our plates are cleared of food, he clears his throat and, pointing at my shoulder with a knife, finally says, “You should get that checked by the doctor.”
I don't argue with him. “Yeah.”
“What happened? Thought that mate of yours was supposed to keep you safe,” he says.
I push my empty plate to the side before saying, “Nothing.”
Killian gets up from his chair and tak
