Chapter 13

Myla

“C ian’s coming over,” I announced, looking between Lou and Frankie.

“I’ll pop the popcorn,” Frankie replied, putting her feet up on the table.

I sent a pleading look to Lou.

“Nope,” she announced, throwing the blanket off her legs. “My gram needs us to go help her pull out the holiday decorations. Get up.”

“No way,” Frankie complained.

“Yes, way,” Lou ordered. “You know we’ll get the details later. Let’s go.”

“She never gets them right,” Frankie replied in frustration, pushing to her feet. “She always leaves shit out.”

“You act like you don’t give a shit about anything,” Lou joked. “But I swear you’re more nosy than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“I like to be in the room where it happens,” Frankie muttered, glaring at me dramatically.

“Thanks guys,” I said as Lou poked and prodded Frankie into a pair of boots and ushered her out the front door.

“Call me when we can come home,” Lou muttered out of the side of her mouth. “It’s early for holiday decorations, even for Gram.”

“I will.”

After they were gone, I put away the bag of chips Frankie left on the coffee table and folded Lou’s blanket. Dashing quickly to my room, I checked my hair and makeup in my vanity mirror. I’d worked all day, but everything was holding up all right.

It was Cian. He’d seen me a lot worse.

I’d barely made it to the living room again before I heard his Harley pulling onto the street. Standing in the middle of the living room, I forced myself not to rush onto the front porch to meet him. I wasn’t doing that anymore. He could come to the door and knock just like anyone else.

I jerked in surprise when the front door swung open and Cian stepped inside.

“You don’t knock?” I asked dubiously.

“When have I ever knocked?” he asked, just as confused. He paused. “You want me to go back out and knock?”

“No.” I shook my head, and my hands did a weird wavy thing before I noticed and crossed them over my chest.

“All right,” he said slowly, watching me carefully as he closed the door behind him.

We stared at each other.

“You want a drink?” I asked, spinning away. I hurried toward the kitchen. “I don’t think we have any beer, but I just bought a bunch of soda.”

I’d barely made it three steps before Cian’s arm banded around my waist from behind.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” I chirped. I didn’t chirp. I wasn’t a chirper. What the hell was wrong with me?

“Myla?”

“What kind of soda do you want?” I asked, forcing my voice back to normal as I pulled away from his hold. I rattled off the list of choices as I walked to the fridge and threw open the door. When I looked back at him, he looked like he was frozen in place.

“I’m not picky,” he replied, dropping his arm.

My heart thumped in my chest as I leaned in and got him something I knew he’d like. I wasn’t sure how to act. From the first time Cian and I had hung out, I’d flirted. It was my default with him. I was charming. I made jokes. I teased and I batted my eyes.

I wasn’t doing that anymore.

“Here you go,” I said, spinning to set the soda on the island between us.

“Thanks,” he murmured, walking forward. He paused on the other side of the counter, his eyes still on me as he reached out to grab it. “What’s going on, Myla?”

“Nothing,” I replied, shrugging.

“Something is.”

“Nope.” I leaned on the island. “How are your sisters settling in? Is Sean loving unfettered access to the property?”

“They’re good,” he said. He was watching me closely. Too closely. I fought the urge to fidget. Jesus, why was I being so weird? I hung out with tons of men that I didn’t have feelings for. I could act like a normal person for the half an hour he’d be at my house. I needed to snap out of it.

“Is Ronan still planning on coming out here at some point?” I asked when he didn’t elaborate further.

“You wanna talk about my brother?” he asked flatly.

“I’m making conversation,” I replied, my tone just as flat as his. “The last time I heard, Ronan was staying behind, but he wanted to try and move if he could.”

“He’s still workin’ on it.”

“Well, that’s good. I hope it works out.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“How’s Aisling feeling?” I stood straight again. The nonchalant leaning on the counter had started to feel awkward. “She hasn’t texted or anything.”

“She’s gettin’ settled. Had to bring her into the emergency room the other night—”

“Oh, shit,” I murmured.

“Turned out to be nothin’,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s healin’.”

“Good.”

Cian tipped his head to the side, watching me. “Why are you on the other side of the counter?”

“What do you mean?” I knew exactly what he meant.

“You’re standin’ over there like you need”—he gestured toward the counter—“some kind of barrier between us.”

“I’m just standing here.”

“What’s goin’ on, Myla?”

“Nothing.” I tossed my hands up. “Why do you keep asking that?”

“Because you keep givin’ me a bullshit answer and I’m waitin’ on the truth.”

“I’m just standing here.”

“All right,” he said, walking around the counter.

My heart raced as I forced my feet to stay planted. If he got close, I knew I would waver. It was impossible for me to be in Cian’s proximity without touching him. I didn’t even remember how at this point.

“You mad at me?” he asked softly. I held my breath when he reached out and brushed my hair out of my face.

“I’m not mad at you.” I took a step back, and his hand dropped.

“What the fuck, My?” The muscle in his jaw pulsed.

“I think—” I swallowed hard. We weren’t even together! It wasn’t as if I was trying to break up with him or something. “I think we need to set some boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” he repeated slowly.

“Yeah, just, you know—” I took another step backward, slamming the small of my back into the edge of the counter. “We’re friends, right? So, let’s just do that. Be friends.”

“What the hell are you on about?” he asked, frustration and the slightest hint of an accent bleeding through.

“Hands to ourselves,” I said desperately. The directions from elementary school were the first thing I could think of.

His head jerked back in surprise.

The absolute hell of it was that I didn’t want freaking boundaries. I wanted zero boundaries. I wanted nothing between us. Ever. But he wasn’t going to give me that, and it had become very clear to me that I was giving him everything he needed and wasn’t getting anything I needed.

As he reached up to run a hand over his face, it took everything I had not to step forward and wrap my arms around his waist. He was grieving and he was stressed out to the point of collapse, and I knew he had more on his plate than anyone deserved to have. It hadn’t been my intention to add to that.

“Let me get this straight,” he said with a huff of sardonic laughter. “You’ve been all over me for years—hands in my hair, sittin’ in my lap, holdin’ my hand, hangin’ all over me, and sleepin’ in my goddamn bed—but now, right now , you’re tellin’ me I can’t touch you?”

“Cian—”

“Yeah, that tracks,” he said, letting out a little chuckle again as he put both hands behind his neck and stared at the ceiling. “That fuckin’ tracks.”

“I just think it would be better,” I replied, my voice cracking a little at the end. “For both of us if we just took the whole will-we-or-won’t-we off the table, you know?”

“Course you do, Myla,” he said tiredly, tipping his head back down to look at me.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s always all about you. The world revolves around Myla.”

“That’s a shitty thing to say.”

“Not your fault. Probably the way you were raised,” he said, shaking his head. “Brothers wrapped around your finger. Parents lettin’ you do whatever the fuck you wanted, talkin’ to them however the fuck you wanted.”

“Leave my family out of this. You’re being a dick,” I ground out.

“ I’m bein’ a dick?” he asked in disbelief.

“All I wanted was to keep our hands to ourselves.”

“Yeah, you got it.” He raised his hands in surrender and took a step back.

“I don’t even understand why you’re pissed,” I snapped defensively. “We’re still friends! We’re still us! Nothing has to change, really, except—”

“I came over here for a little comfort,” he said quietly. “Spent the week up to my neck in problems, countin’ down the minutes until I could see you. I’ve been fuckin’ dyin’ for you, hopin’ you’d show up at the garage or the property just so I could get a fuckin’ fix. Finally, I can squeeze out a little time, Bas is at the property so I know it’s all good there, and I can come here—and you’re like this.”

“Baby,” I murmured, taking a step toward him. I shouldn’t have said it. The word just slipped out.

“No, you don’t get to do that shit,” he said, taking another step backward.

“You don’t get to be pissed at me,” I shot back. “I get to decide if I want to be touched. End of story.”

“Of course you fuckin’ do,” he replied. “Always.”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“Me?” His eyes widened in disbelief. “You don’t want me to touch you? Fuckin’ bullshit and we both know it, but all right. I won’t touch you.”

“Fine.”

“Great,” he muttered stiffly.

“You’re still pissed.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Because it’s not about me touchin’ you,” he roared. “It’s about fuckin’ control. You wanna control whatever this is, so you’re doin’ it. I didn’t make it over here when I got back into town, and now you’re pissed and throwin’ your fuckin’ weight around, like you always do. And I just have to fuckin’ take it because what the hell else am I gonna do?”

“I’ve never controlled any of this!” I shouted back.

“That right?” We were both yelling now. “How many times have you frozen me out because you were pissed, Myla? I say the wrong thing, and you cut contact. You come back around, and I fuckin’ let you, fuckin’ gaggin’ for it every goddamn time!”

“That isn’t true!”

“It’s not?” He threw his hands up. “I saved your ass and you didn’t talk to me for weeks because you didn’t like that I told your dad you were drunk! When you were feckin’ drunk ! I can’t take it anymore, and I come over here and you blame my ass for you doin’ stupid shit, actin’ like if I’d just fucked you, none of it woulda happened. My fault, Myla? Mine?”

My throat grew tight as I stared at him in horror.

“I’m on my way back here, because I can’t fuckin’ leave it like that. I wanna work shit out. I need to get this shit straight. Because even though you’re mostly wrong, again, I want to work this shit out with you, and I get a call from Saoirse.”

“Cian,” I whispered.

“And you show up at the motherfuckin’ hospital!” Grabbing the can of soda off the counter, he tossed it against the wall, where it exploded. “And I’m fuckin’ gaggin’ for it all over again! So goddamn relieved you’re there. So fuckin’ thankful that you’ve decided to forgive me again for shit that wasn’t even my fault in the first place!”

I wasn’t sure when I’d started crying, but by then, the collar of my sweatshirt had grown damp against my neck.

“I can’t do the back and forth anymore,” I said softly, my breath hitching.

“Then stop fuckin’ doin’ it!”

My mouth snapped shut.

“Jesus, why am I even here?” Cian mumbled in confusion. “What’s the fuckin’ point?”

“You’re my best friend,” I whispered.

“No. I’m not.”

The noise that came out of my throat, painful and raw, froze us both.

“I’m the man that loves you,” Cian said simply. “But I’m done walkin’ on eggshells for you. Back and forth? Christ, Myla. You’ve had me for years. If you woulda pulled your head outta your ass, you woulda fuckin’ realized it.”

He left me standing in the kitchen, reeling.

I was still standing there, trying to sort through everything he’d said, trying to silently refute everything he’d said , when I heard the front door close behind him. Seconds later, I heard him lock the deadbolt.

Making sure I was safe.

My knees went out from under me and I slid down to the floor.

I should’ve stopped him.

I should’ve apologized.

I should’ve spoken to him instead of Lou and Frankie.

I should’ve told him that I wasn’t mad that he hadn’t come to see me when he got into town. That I understood. That I’d decided I wanted to get off the roller coaster before that, and the time apart had only strengthened my resolve.

No. No, I shouldn’t have said that. That part didn’t matter.

Did I freeze him out?

I thought back to our arguments. When he said shit I didn’t agree with. When he’d acted like an ass. When I was in a bad mood and he didn’t want to deal with my shit. When I was a bitch.

I’d thought of it as giving each other space. It never lasted long. Sometimes a day. Sometimes two. Sometimes it was only a couple of hours before I reached out again, hoping he would forget it ever happened.

He always did.

He always let me lead, let me act like everything was fine, let me dive right back in even if I’d been the one who’d caused the problem in the first place.

“Shit,” I whispered, resting my head against my knees.

When Lou and Frankie got home a couple hours later, the house was dark, and I was still sitting on the kitchen floor.

“Hello?” Lou called as she opened the door. “You home?”

“She’s probably on the back of Cian’s bike, riding into the sunset,” Frankie told her dryly.

“It’s pitch black outside,” Lou retorted. “And she said she was done, remember?”

“How many times has Myla said she was done?” Frankie asked dryly. “Once a week for the past few years?”

“I’m in here,” I croaked, lifting my head from my knees.

“Fuck!” Lou yelped in surprise. She flipped on the kitchen light. “What the hell, Myla?”

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?” Frankie mused, looking at me over Lou’s shoulder.

“Understatement,” I rasped.

“Oh no,” Lou murmured, instantly dropping to the floor across from me. “What happened?”

“Well, first I acted like an idiot,” I said, laying my head back down so I didn’t have to meet her sympathetic gaze. “And then Cian ripped me a new one.”

“I’ll kill him.” Frankie sat down on the floor next to Lou.

“I think I might’ve deserved it, actually,” I replied, my voice hitching.

“That’s bullshit,” Frankie announced. “And fuck him for saying it.”

I lifted my head to look at her, the most loyal person I knew.

“He said I freeze him out,” I murmured. “That I cut contact and then pull him back in and that he’s in love with me.”

Lou’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Start from the beginning,” Frankie ordered, leaning against the cabinets. “What exactly did he say?”

My voice barely above a whisper, I told them everything I could remember, pausing once in a while to wipe at the tears that ran down my face. By the time I was done, both of them were staring at me in shock.

“Is he right?” I asked, looking at each of them. “Am I that selfish?”

Frankie opened her mouth to instantly refute it, then snapped it shut again when Lou shot her a look.

“You’re not selfish,” Lou said slowly. “You’re just not, Myla. It’s not how you’re made. But—”

“But what?”

“I can see,” she hedged. “I can see where he’s coming from. You do retreat when something happens. You used to do it with us, but we stopped letting you.”

“What?”

“Remember when you used to hole up in your room?” Frankie asked. “You’d get pissed at one of us, and you’d just kind of disappear for a while.”

“But it always went back to normal, so we just kind of—” Lou glanced at Frankie. “Stopped acknowledging it. You’d go into your room, and we’d just come in and get you.”

“Oh,” I breathed.

“It’s a defense mechanism,” Frankie said, looking intently at her fingernails. “Instead of working shit out, you just put distance between you and whatever is happening.”

Even though I’d already come to the realization that I’d fucked up, having my friends confirm Cian’s words still felt like a blow.

“He’s in love with you?” Lou asked, a small smile pulling at her cheeks.

“Of course he is,” Frankie said easily. “Everyone already knew that.”

“ I didn’t know that.”

“That’s because you’re stuck in Myla’s world ,” Frankie said.

I winced.

“Too soon?” she asked with a small laugh.

“Good grief, Frank,” Lou muttered. “Not the time.”

“Seems like exactly the time to me,” Frankie said, pushing to her feet. “You don’t want to do the hot and cold, right? That’s what all this was about? Well? Sounds like he doesn’t either. He wants what you want.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” I replied, looking up at her. “He was really pissed, Frankie. I’ve never seen him like that.”

“First of all, yum,” Frankie said. “And second—why the hell are you still sitting here on the floor? Call him or go over there.”

“I can’t do that to him again,” I argued, using the counter to pull myself up. “He just yelled at me for doing it.”

“I agree with Frankie,” Lou said from her place on the floor. “Fix it. Don’t let it go on longer than it has to.”

“But what if it’s already over?” I asked desperately. The thought of going to Cian only to have him slam the door in my face made me break out in a cold sweat. “It really seemed like he was done.”

“If you don’t know already, you should find out for sure,” Frankie said, walking away.

“I believe in you,” Lou said seriously.

I didn’t check my face or bother with a coat as I hurried out to my car. My chest had felt hollow since Cian walked out of the house, and I was desperate to make the feeling go away. Even if he was angry, even if he yelled some more, I needed to see him. I needed to know if this was it. If I’d lost him for good. I needed to know if we could stop with all the pretenses, all the arguments and uncertainty.

Mostly, I just needed Cian.

I’d driven to his house so many times that I barely had to pay any attention to where I was going, which was a good thing because I was so anxious that I didn’t even remember the drive by the time I parked. I was moving on pure adrenaline and hope. The rain was coming down hard as I climbed out of the car and ran up to the front door. By the time I got there, I was soaked.

Noel answered the door when I knocked.

“Are you okay?” she blurted instantly, stepping back. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to Cian,” I replied, looking past her. My brother was looking at me over the back of the couch, the TV playing quietly behind him.

I took two steps into the house.

“He’s not here, My,” Titus said, standing up. “He’s out at the property.”

“Oh.” My shoulders slumped.

I couldn’t bring our drama out to the property. Not now. Not when everyone was struggling to get their feet under them again. If I did that, I’d be exactly what Cian had accused me of.

“Why don’t you come in?” Titus said, coming toward us. “Hang out for a while.”

“No, that’s okay,” I muttered, taking a step back toward the door. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I didn’t want to have to explain myself. I didn’t want a heart-to-heart. I just wanted Cian, and he wasn’t there. “I’ll just text him or something.”

“I can call him,” Titus murmured.

“No,” I cried. “No, don’t. He’s dealing with family stuff. I’ll just call him tomorrow. It’s no big deal. I’ll see you guys in a couple of days or something.”

I stepped back onto the porch.

“Myla, what’s going on?” Noel asked soothingly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I waved away the question. “Everything is fine. I’ll see you guys later.”

They watched from the doorway as I ran back to my car and crawled inside. The bravery that had gotten me over to Cian’s house was gone, and my hands shook as I backed my car up and turned around.

Cian was pissed at me, and I’d come to the painful realization that he had a right to be. Maybe I should just leave him alone. I’d tried, right? I went to his house but he wasn’t there. Maybe that was a sign.

I got home a few minutes later and slammed into the house, tearing my soaking wet sweatshirt over my head.

“Why are you back already?” Lou called, stepping out of her bedroom.

“He wasn’t there,” I replied dully. “I’m taking a shower.”

I closed the door firmly behind me and turned on the shower as hot as it would go. Cian was angry with me. Maybe even done with me. And I’d tried to fix it, but there was nothing else I could do. I wasn’t going to bother him while he was dealing with family stuff. I’d already made that mistake. I’d already pushed my shit onto him when he didn’t have any room for more.

I sobbed angrily as I showered, letting the hot water muffle the sound and wash my face clean. When I was finally done, I dried off and wrapped a towel around myself, my head throbbing. I was going to crawl into my bed and pass out. I could deal with everything in the morning.

I stumbled to a stop when I found Cian standing at the foot of my bed.

“Lou let me in,” he said, his eyes on my face.

“Why are you here?”

“Noel said you came lookin’ for me at the house and you were upset.”

“I told them not to call you.”

“Why?”

“Because you were at the property dealing with family stuff.”

“So?”

“So, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Cian let out a long breath. “Why’d you come to the house?”

I tightened the towel around me and shifted a little, feeling raw and exposed. Everything I’d wanted to say to him had gotten lost somewhere between the drive home and the scalding shower. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was tangled in the memory of him relaying how I’d pushed him away and pulled him back, the frustration and disbelief in his voice when he’d asked me what the hell I was doing.

“I hurt you,” I murmured. “I wanted to apologize.”

He watched me for a moment. “Okay.”

“I love you,” I choked out, my nose stinging with tears. “I wanted to say that, too.”

“I can’t keep doin’ it, My,” he said softly. “I’d crawl over broken fuckin’ glass for you, but I can’t keep doin’ this shit where you disappear on me any time you’re pissed off.”

“I won’t,” I replied quickly.

He looked at me in disbelief.

“I didn’t—” I cleared my throat. “I didn’t realize I was doing it. I thought, I don’t know, I thought that we were giving each other space. I thought that was what we were both doing.”

“I don’t want space.”

“I don’t either.” I shrugged and barely caught my towel as it started to slip.

Cian watched me for a long time, his blue eyes intent as they traced my face.

“I’m gonna piss you off,” he warned.

“I know.”

“There’s shit I’m not gonna tell you, and you’re gonna push because you don’t like it, and I’m gonna push back.”

“I know.”

“We’re gonna fight,” he murmured, peeling his cut off his shoulders.

“We always fight.”

“We do this,” he said, tossing his cut on the foot of the bed. “There won’t be any more ignorin’ my calls and givin’ me the silent treatment. That’s done.”

“It’s done,” I agreed as he reached for his belt.

“Myla,” he called. He waited until I’d dragged my gaze away from his hands and met his eyes.

“I’m not playin’. You do not get to check out. Not ever,” he said harshly. “You do, and I’m done. You will no longer exist for me.”

My heart raced. “I won’t.”

“I want babies,” he continued, knocking the breath from my lungs. “I want my ring on your finger. I want you to have my back with them—” He pointed to the hallway behind me. “And with your family.”

I opened my mouth to argue that he already did, then snapped it shut again. How many times had I discussed Cian with the girls? How many times had I complained to my mom? He’d never said anything—but he knew. He knew I’d been doing it. It was impossible to miss when Frankie was making snarky comments any time Cian and I fought.

“Yeah,” he murmured as it sunk in.

“I want kids,” I replied softly.

“Two.”

“Three. No, four.”

He stared. “We’ll discuss it.”

“I’m good with that,” I replied quickly.

“It tears me up when you’re gone, baby,” he said softly.

“I won’t do it again,” I rasped. “I promise.”

He nodded slowly. “Then close the door and lose the towel.”