Chapter 15

Cian

“M yla okay?” Bas asked as I pulled my coveralls down.

I was actually surprised it had taken so long before he or Titus cornered me.

“She’s good,” I replied, tying the arms around my waist. The sleeves kept catching inside the engine I was working on, and it was driving me fucking nuts.

“Noel said she was pretty upset,” he muttered, taking a drink of his water.

“Cleared it up.”

“You two fightin’ again?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“You’re worse than a woman.”

“All men are worse than women, we just hide it better.”

“Truth,” I mumbled. “She’s good. We’re good.”

“How good?”

“Are you fuckin’ jokin’?” I asked, glaring.

“Lou said you didn’t leave until this mornin’,” he replied, grinning.

“Christ,’ I spat, shaking my head as I turned back toward the car.

“Got a little pep in your step today,” Bas joked.

“Keep it down, would you?” I asked, reaching back inside.

“Hell, everyone knows you two were gonna get together.”

“Doubt her brothers or dad or uncles or fuckin’ cousins wanna know I slept in her bed last night,” I replied quietly. “Leave it alone.”

“Whose bed?” Brody asked from one bay over. “It better be Myla’s or she’s gonna murder you.”

“Can I fuckin’ work?” I asked, looking between them. “That all right with you two?”

“Testy,” Bas joked. “Seems like you’d be in a better mood.”

“When you gonna finally make a move on Lou, Bas?” I asked, my gut twisting when the jab hit its mark, and Bas’s face fell.

“Low blow.”

“Sorry, can you just—”

“I’m gone,” Bas replied, walking away.

“Such a sweet talker,” Brody called.

I flipped him off and went back to work.

The funny thing? I was in a good mood—or at least as good of a mood as I was able at the moment. Waking up next to Myla had been the highlight of my goddamn life.

But the moment I’d left her room, the weight of everything else had come crashing down around me. Aoife had called in a panic just as I’d climbed off my bike outside the garage, asking me if I knew if the US Marshals would call her if the Smith organization got to Richie. How was she supposed to live not knowing if he was alive or not? I didn’t have any answers for her—I had no fucking clue how it all worked.

We didn’t snitch, and if we did, we dealt with the consequences. Witness protection? What a fucking joke.

I’d calmed her down and got off the phone just in time for Ronan to call me saying he was going to drop out of his program and move. His shit wouldn’t transfer, and they weren’t willing to work with him, and he couldn’t stand being away from everyone. I wanted to tell him to stick it out, that things would get easier, but I kept my mouth shut. I’d felt homesick when I left, and it had gotten easier—but I’d left behind a fully intact and thriving family. Ronan was separated from our sisters who were a complete fucking mess at the moment, and we’d just lost Richie. I could understand the instinct to be as close to them as possible. If they hadn’t moved out to the property, I would’ve still been sleeping on Aoife’s couch.

The girls were settling in. They were finding routines. Saoirse was back at work, and Aoife was searching for a job. Aisling still had quite a bit of healing to do before she could go back, but I knew she’d sent out feelers to a few tattoo shops in town, checking for openings. Aunt Ashley was the only one who seemed to be stuck in place, but she could take off in her motorhome whenever she wanted. She was choosing to stay close by for the time being.

Shit was moving forward already, slowly, sure, but it was happening.

It still felt like there was a noose around my neck.

“I’m grabbin’ a burrito from the truck,” Leo called out a while later, distracting me from the thoughts that spun around and around with no end in sight. “Who wants one?”

Random orders were called out as I straightened and checked the clock. Most of the time I worked through lunch so I could get off earlier, but my stomach was growling. I glanced at Leo, debating whether or not I wanted to send an order with him or just run somewhere myself as I strode over to the industrial sink at the back.

I wasn’t sure if getting a questionable burrito from a truck was the best idea a few hours before I took Myla out to dinner.

“Baby sister,” Mick called out. “You know you can’t come in here.”

“I wasn’t,” Myla shot back. “I’m outside, aren’t I?”

Turning around, I found Myla standing at the very edge of my bay, the toes of her shoes touching the black mark where the door hit when it was closed.

“I brought lunch,” she sang, lifting a paper bag and shaking it from side to side.

“What’d you get for me?” Rumi yelled, jogging toward her. “I know you didn’t bring lunch and forget your favorite brother.”

“Titus is my favorite,” Myla said, clutching the bag to her chest. “I didn’t bring you shit.”

“He’s gonna cry,” Brody said with a chuckle.

“Come on, what did you get?” Rumi wheedled, reaching for the bag.

I walked a little faster when a familiar look came over Myla’s face, and I knew she was two seconds from detonation.

“Leave her alone, Rum,” Mick called. “Can’t you see she brought lunch for her boyfriend ?”

“Did you tell everyone ?” Myla asked, her eyes coming to me.

Rumi laughed.

“I haven’t said shit,” I replied as I reached her.

“Sure you didn’t.”

“You can thank your roommates for that,” I added. “And you showin’ up bringin’ me lunch.”

“Myla got Chinese food,” Rumi said, walking away. “I can smell it, and I want some. Who’s gonna go pick it up? Prospect? Where’s a prospect? Any prospect. I’m not choosy.” His words trailed off as he got further away.

“You got Chinese food?” I asked quietly as Myla silently fumed.

“It’s the stuff you like,” she said, pushing the bag into my hands. “Enjoy.”

She turned to storm off, but I snagged her arm before she got more than two steps away. “Knock it off,” I ordered, holding her in place until we were side by side. “Don’t do that shit.”

She walked quietly beside me toward her car.

“Why are you embarrassed?” I asked when we reached it.

“I just—” Her nostrils flared, and she looked away for a moment, her eyes glossy. “I didn’t want to make a big thing, I just had a half day and I thought we could have lunch together. And then my brothers—”

“Who gives a shit?” I asked, cutting her off. “They’re your brothers, they give you shit, it’s what they do.”

“I just wanted it to be a thing, just me and you.”

“Baby, you show up at the garage, you know you’re gonna take some teasin’.”

“Maybe you should find somewhere else to work,” she grumbled, making me chuckle.

“Word about us is spreadin’ like wildfire—”

“Great!” She threw her hands up in the air.

“And not one of your brothers has come over to give me shit,” I continued, ignoring the outburst. “They’re happy for you.”

“They’re annoying.”

“That, too.”

“Well, since I’m not stepping foot in the clubhouse, do you want to just eat in the car?”

I looked up at the dark clouds above us. The picnic tables outside would be soaked before we even sat down. “Yeah.”

I waited for her to get into the driver’s seat before climbing in the passenger side and handing her the bag of food.

“I got that chicken chow mein you like,” she said, handing me a box. “And the special that we both like.” She set the second one on the dash. “And some broccoli and beef.” She set another box on the dash. “Oh, and some spring rolls.”

“You were gonna make me eat all this by myself?” I asked in amusement, looking at all the food.

“Shut up.”

“I woulda had to share it so it didn’t go to waste,” I added as she handed me a set of chopsticks. I waited a beat. “With Rumi.”

“Fuck Rumi,” she mumbled with a laugh, snapping apart her chopsticks.

“Why’d you only have a half day?” I asked as we dug into our food.

“Well, to be fair, I only had to go into one of the properties for half a day,” she clarified. “I’m working from home the rest of the day.”

“Lucky,” I teased. “Gonna sit in your bed on your laptop?”

“On the couch,” she corrected with a grin. “With the TV on.”

“You rebel.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “I’m still not sure how I ended up managing a bunch of properties, but I can’t say I hate it. The work is easy, my schedule’s pretty flexible, and I’m the boss, so the people I work with are always nice to me.”

“Can’t beat that.”

“You like what you do, too,” she pointed out.

“I do,” I nodded. “I like fixin’ shit.”

“Too bad about all the garage politics,” she said mockingly, shaking her head. “The people you work with are assholes.”

“You should meet the boss,” I joked. “Total psycho.”

Myla laughed. Her grandpa ran the garage.

“You took the wind outta my sails,” I said, trading boxes with her. “I was gonna take you to Chinese tonight.”

“You were not,” she argued, pausing with food halfway to her mouth.

“I was,” I confirmed.

“Well,” she said, looking down at her food. “Great minds think alike.”

She smiled cheerfully as she chewed, and all of a sudden I wanted to drag her across the center console.

“Jesus,” I whispered, reaching up to rub the ache in my chest.

“We should do pizza tonight,” she said, putting her hand in front of her mouth as she swallowed. “In bed.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Naked.”

It was my turn to grin.

“Can you get Bas to ask the girls over for dinner or something? Then we can have the house to ourselves.”

“You should run that by Noel,” I replied, remembering Bas’s face when I’d made the dig about Lou. “She’d invite ’em.”

“Good call,” she agreed.

“Aoife called this morning,” I said after a few moments.

“Everything okay?”

I realized too late that Myla only knew half the story. She had no idea that Richie wasn’t dead. Only my siblings and club members had any idea what he was actually doing.

“Just missin’ Richie, I think,” I replied, kicking myself for even bringing it up.

“I bet,” Myla said softly. “I’m sure you all are.”

I nodded, not sure what to say. Did I miss Richie? Yeah, I guessed I did. But missing him was tied up in so much other shit that it was impossible to untangle that feeling from all the rest of it.

“Ronan’s droppin’ out of school.”

“No fucking way,” Myla breathed, her eyes wide. “Why?”

“He wants to be out here. He said he can’t transfer, and they’re not willin’ to work with him—I don’t know. I scraped by in high school, all the university shit is beyond me.”

“Well, that sucks for him,” Myla said, pulling out a spring roll. “But good for you guys, having everyone close.”

“I’m not complainin’,” I agreed. “Yet. Ask me in a month.”

Myla laughed.

“I’m glad you’ll get to know ’em better,” I said as she tilted her head against the seat, her eyes on mine.

“Me too,” she mumbled around her food.

“They’re gonna take up a lot of my time for a while,” I warned. For our entire relationship, Myla had me pretty much to herself. There were other friends around, and I drove out to see my siblings once every couple of months, but otherwise I was free to do whatever whenever.

“Remember who you’re talking to,” she replied dryly, waving the last of her spring roll toward the garage. “Oh, you have a family that’s all up in your shit all the time? Can’t imagine how that feels.”

“Fair enough.” I chuckled.

“You have the most beautiful smile,” she blurted, staring at my mouth.

“Look who’s talkin’.”

“No, I mean mine’s okay ,” she said grudgingly. “But your teeth are like, perfect. And white.” Her eyes widened. “Do you whiten your teeth?”

“I don’t fuckin’ whiten my teeth,” I argued. “Stop starin’ at my mouth.”

“But they’re so pretty!”

“So are yours!”

“No, mine are crooked.”

“They are not. What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Yes, they are,” she insisted, pulling down her bottom lip. “See,” she muttered around her fingers. “See the bottom ones? They’re crooked.”

I stared at her slightly overlapped front teeth.

Myla let her lip go and instantly covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my god. Do I have food in my teeth?”

I could actually see the blush spreading across her cheeks as she stared at me in horror.

“You don’t have food in your teeth.”

“You better not be lying,” she said, her hand still in front of her mouth. “Because I have to run a couple errands after this and—”

She stopped talking when I reached across and yanked her toward me, my lips brushing her hand before she dropped it.

The kiss was deep and long and tasted like Chinese food, and the only reason it ended was because I’d seriously started contemplating dragging her onto my lap—and no way in hell was I going to do that with her brothers and dad roaming around.

“What was that for?” she whispered against my mouth.

“I’ve got this thing for women with food in their teeth,” I joked.

“You said I didn’t!” She jerked away and pulled the shade down so she could check the mirror.

“I’d still kiss you if you did,” I said easily, taking another bite of my food.

“Not picky, huh?” she asked, grinning.

“Not when it comes to you, no.”

“You have seen me puking,” she mused.

“Wouldn’t kiss you after that,” I clarified.

The rest of the day flew by, even after Tommy strode through the garage and slapped the back of my head without saying a word. No one was surprised that Myla and I were seeing each other, they’d been more surprised when we told them we were just friends.

Probably because Myla and I had never been just friends, even when we’d pretended we were.

I stopped by the property on my way home and ended up staying for an hour while Aoife made dinner.

“Everything okay?” she asked while I sat at the counter.

“Yeah, why d’you ask?”

“You flew out of here like your ass was on fire last night,” she said, looking at me over her shoulder.

“Myla was lookin’ for me.”

“And you went running,” she said with a huff of laughter.

“I said goodbye.”

“Barely,” she joked.

“We’re together now,” I told her quietly.

“That’s good,” she replied with a strained smile before turning back to the stove. “You’re happy?”

“Guess so.”

“That’s not a ringing endorsement.”

“I’m happy with Myla, yeah.” I watched as she moved around the kitchen, sharp and efficient. “She’s…perfect.”

“Don’t put her on a pedestal, bud,” Aoife warned. “She’ll fall, and it’ll fuck you both.”

“Believe me, I’m not,” I replied dryly. “I’ve seen her at her worst. Still love her.”

“You love her?” she asked softly, turning fully to look at me.

“Yeah.” I met Aoife’s eyes. “You like her, right?”

“She’s awesome,” Aoife confirmed. “And she doesn’t take your shit, but she still looks at you like you’ll cure cancer while flying to the moon on your big white horse.”

I laughed at her description.

“You should have her over for family dinner,” Aoife declared. “How about tomorrow?”

“You already know her.”

“I don’t know her as your girlfriend .”

“Gettin’ kind of old to have a girlfriend, don’t you think?”

“Okay, your woman ,” Aoife replied, grunting the last word.

“Fine. I’ll see if she’s free tomorrow.”

“Good.” She turned back to the stove. “You’ve never brought a woman home, you know.”

“Never had one worth bringin’ home,” I muttered.

Aoife glared over her shoulder. “I raised you better than that shit.”

I raised my hands in surrender. “Just mean none of them were goin’ anywhere. They were all good women.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You doin’ okay?” I asked, glancing to where Sean was playing with his toys in the living room. “Seanie’s good?”

“He’s good,” Aoife relied. “I’m…getting there. Mostly. Sometimes. I guess.”

“The situation is fucked,” I murmured. I watched the tense line of her back as she stirred the pot on the stove. “Do you wish you woulda went with him?”

“No, I don’t.” The words were firm.

“Really?”

My big sister turned to me, her jaw taut. “I’ll leave you guys when my heart stops beating. Not before.”

“All right,” I whispered.

As I drove to Myla’s that night, I thought about Aoife and Richie. There had never been a time when Aoife’s world hadn’t revolved around us, and inevitably, Richie came in second. He’d signed up for it. He’d known that we were her priority before they’d ever gotten married…but I wondered if he’d assumed that once we were adults and out of the house that he would become number one. It must’ve been a hell of a blow to learn that he was still ranked lower on Aoife’s priority list than we did.

If it came down to spending my life with Myla or seeing my siblings, I wasn’t sure what I would choose. Myla and I were building something. Something big and important. I could feel it. But they were my brother and sisters. They knew the history of almost every scar I had. They remembered me when I was a pimply-faced kid. They’d shared beds and food and memories and worries with me for my entire life.

I thought about it while I ran home and showered. I thought about it when I climbed on the back of my bike and rode over to Myla’s to pick her up. I thought about it as I climbed up the porch steps and knocked.

When she opened the door and laughingly turned to shake her ass at me, wearing the jeans I’d teased her about that morning? I realized that I would probably abandon everything and everyone else I’d ever known if it meant I had Myla Hawthorne.