Chapter 20

Myla

I didn’t sleep all night. Aunt Molly had given me ibuprofen for the pain and swelling so I’d been comfortable, and Cian’s big body had pressed in against my back, sheltering me.

I should’ve slept. My body needed it.

I just couldn’t seem to shut my mind off. The night played out over and over every time I shut my eyes. The man, Julian, had been scary and clearly unhinged. He would’ve hurt me. I’d done the right thing. Even the agents had told me that I’d done everything right—and I was pretty sure that wasn’t something they were supposed to say.

But I’d still been the reason that a man died.

Eventually, I climbed out of bed and made my way out to the living room. Grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, I wrapped it around me and went out on the front porch. The sun was rising as I curled up on a chair.

The air smelled fresh, like rain, and I inhaled deeply.

Everybody I knew had one moment, a small sliver of time, when things spun out of control and could’ve ended really badly. Now, I’d had mine. I would’ve happily stayed out of that particular club, but it was over.

The FBI may come to talk to me again, but I doubted it. From the way they’d spoken, they’d assumed that Julian Kitz would come to a bad end somehow, and I held little interest for them since I wasn’t connected to the organization they were trying to take down. There was no satisfaction in prosecuting a property manager who’d acted in self-defense.

Swallowing still hurt.

I wondered how Aoife was really doing now that I knew Richie was still alive somewhere. I couldn’t imagine being away from Cian, knowing that he was alive but never being able to contact him or know anything about his life. It must’ve been agony for her. It was strange that they hadn’t let him take her and Sean with him.

I watched the sun come up over the neighborhood, my chin on my knees.

I was still sitting in the same position when Cian came storming out of the house. He threw the door closed as he stomped onto the porch. He was moving so quickly that he bypassed the three porch steps, jumping from the porch to the ground. As he reached the driveway, he stopped abruptly, staring at where my car should’ve been.

“We left it at the property, remember?” I asked, making him spin toward me in surprise.

“What are you doin’ out here, baby?” he asked, walking toward me slowly.

“You thought I left,” I replied, watching the emotions cross his face.

“Thought it was a possibility,” he conceded.

“We don’t do that anymore,” I said softly. “Remember?”

Cian nodded.

“You have to trust me at some point.”

“I do.”

“You just ran out of the house like it was on fire.”

“I couldn’t find you.”

“But you weren’t scared.”

He paused. “No.”

“You thought I’d bailed.”

He nodded again.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I fucked up before.” He reached up and scratched his beard uncomfortably. “I shoulda told you.”

“I know.”

“Wouldn’t blame you—”

“I’m pissed,” I said with a sigh. “You should’ve fucking told me about Richie.”

“See that now.”

“You don’t have endless chances, Cian.”

“I get that.”

“But you probably have at least a couple more,” I said ruefully. “As long as they’re small things, like forgetting a date or clipping your toenails in bed or something.”

“That’s fuckin’ disgustin’.”

I smiled. “I considered it,” I confessed. “Leaving your ass in bed and taking off somewhere for a while.”

He just looked at me.

“It just didn’t hold any appeal.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to be without you,” I said. “Even when you’re being an idiot.”

“Thank the good Lord,” he mumbled. “I’m an idiot a lot.”

I let out a huff of laughter, and he smiled back.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered.

“Except back in the house,” he corrected, walking up the steps. He lifted me from the chair like it was nothing. “Jesus, you’re an ice cube.”

“It’s not that cold,” I argued, laying my head on his shoulder.

He brought me back into the bedroom and put me in bed, not even bothering to strip off the couch blanket before he threw the comforter over me.

I watched as he stripped back out of his clothes, dropping them on my vanity stool. He climbed back into bed in his boxers, pulling me against him.

“Feels like I’m cuddlin’ with a pile of blankets,” he muttered, searching through the blankets to find skin. When his hand found my hip, he slid it to my back and pulled me against his chest.

“You’re so warm,” I mumbled, laying my cheek against him.

His heartbeat was strong and steady.

“Sleep, baby,” he said, kissing my head.

“I can’t.”

“Yeah, you can,” he soothed, sliding his hand up my spine. “Try. I’ll keep the bad shit away.”

Even though he was being really sweet, I kind of wanted to prove him wrong.

I fell asleep within minutes.

When I woke up, the room was bright, and Cian was no longer in bed. I found him in the kitchen with Lou and Frankie, his head inside the fridge.

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” Lou called out.

Cian quickly pulled out of the fridge, smacking his head in the process.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Less tired, more sore,” I replied.

“Damn.” He came over to kiss me and ran a finger down the side of my face. “I’m not buyin’ the property,” he announced nonchalantly.

“You’re what?”

“I’m not buyin’ the property. You’re the first to know. See how I did that?”

“I can confirm that he hasn’t mentioned this to us,” Frankie said, her mouth full of cereal. “Wait, when were you going to buy Ashley’s property?”

“Not important,” I told her. I looked back to Cian. “Why the hell not?”

“Don’t want it,” he replied.

“Yes, you do.”

His eyes grew serious. “I really don’t.”

“Oh.”

“Problem is,” he said, helping me to a kitchen chair like I was eighty years old. “I told Titus and Noel that I was goin’ to be movin’ out soon.”

“I know where this is going,” Frankie muttered.

“I don’t,” Lou countered.

“So, I was thinkin’ me and you could move in together,” he said, ignoring my friends. “Yeah?”

“Baby,” I said slowly, the look on his face giving me all kinds of butterflies. “I own this house.”

He nodded, and after a moment, I giggled.

“Oh, you want to move in here ,” I said, like it was just dawning on me.

“She’s quick,” he said to Frankie.

“Sharp as a tack,” she replied.

“You down?” Cian asked as he set a cup of coffee in front of me.

“You already pretty much live here,” Frankie said dryly.

“Need help packing up your stuff?” I asked Cian quietly as he leaned in for a kiss.

“No.” He hesitated a few inches away. “But if you wanna come lay on my bed in those pink mesh underwear while I pack, it would make my fuckin’ year.”

I grinned.

We spent the rest of the day lying around the house. I was sore, and memories popped up at the strangest times—distracting me from whatever movie we were watching or conversation we were having—but it was a good day in spite of that. The fourth time that Cian had to call my name because I wasn’t paying attention, I made a mental note to check in with my old therapist. My parents had always taught us that therapy wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. It was just another tool in our toolbox, sometimes we needed it and sometimes we didn’t.

Bas showed up with some clothes for Cian and camped out on the couch with Lou. My parents stopped by for a while. My brothers did, too. Otto and Esther brought us dinner. Mick and Emilia brought my favorite snacks, and Titus came over to pass out hugs from Noel and pictures the girls had drawn. Nova brought Rumi, my car, and a huge bottle of vodka to put in the cupboard until I felt like getting drunk and swapping stories . She held me for a long time as she said it. None of my sisters-in-law had come through life unscathed, but Nova’s history was the roughest, though you’d never know it.

We stayed up late into the night talking and telling funny stories and hanging out. It felt normal and clean. If it wasn’t for the soreness and the occasional bad memory, the whole thing would’ve felt completely normal. The five of us and Titus—before Noel had come back into his life—used to spend a ton of time together doing nothing. We’d even had bunk beds in Titus’s spare room for the nights we decided to crash there.

It was two in the morning when we finally made it to bed. Bas had fallen asleep on the floor, Frankie was snoring in the chair, and Lou had abandoned us an hour before to read in her room.

“How you feelin’, love?” Cian asked as he closed us in.

“Optimistic,” I said tiredly, sitting down on the bed. “I thought today would be worse, but it was okay.”

“You were actin’ a little spacey.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’ll get better.”

“I’m going to talk to someone.”

“Like a shrink?”

“Therapist,” I corrected.

“All right,” he replied slowly.

“It helps being able to talk to someone,” I said, smiling at the suspicion in his voice. “You should try it.”

“You can talk to me about whatever you want,” he said, pulling off his hoodie.

“I do talk to you about whatever I want,” I agreed. “But you’re just as fucked up as I am. I need a professional.”

Cian let out a huff of laughter. “That’s fair.”

We were quiet as I stripped off my pajama pants and slid under the covers.

“You know Aoife pretty much raised me?”

“Yeah,” I replied, turning to look at him. He’d sat down on the vanity stool, his hands clasped between his knees.

“My dad died when I was nine.”

“I remember.”

“And my mom was still there,” he said quietly. “But for all intents and purposes, she abandoned us.”

I nodded.

“I think it fucked with me more than I realized.”

“Understandable,” I replied softly.

“When you disappear on me? Leaves a really bad taste in my mouth,” he said, looking up to meet my eyes. “A familiar taste.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He shook his head. “Not tryin’ to guilt you. Just tryin’ to explain why it took so fuckin’ long before I grew a pair and made shit official.”

“I’m not going to leave you,” I murmured, tucking my hands under my cheek. “I wasn’t even really leaving you then. For me, I was just putting us on pauses. Restarting.”

“Don’t wanna restart with you anymore.”

“I promised I wouldn’t do it again,” I reminded him.

“I know.” He let out a long breath. “I know you did.”

“Why are you bringing it up, baby?”

“Because I realized today—it doesn’t matter what you do. I’m still gonna be right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere. You take off? I’m gonna be right where you left me when you get back. No conditions. No ultimatums. This is where I’ll be.” He was holding something between his fingers. “You do it, I’ll stay. But it’ll hurt me.”

“I understand,” I replied, my nose stinging.

“And I’ll tell you the important shit.”

“Okay.”

“You in this with me?”

“Always,” I murmured.

With a nod, he stood and leaned over the bed. I thought he was reaching for my face, and I tipped my head up for a kiss, but his hand wrapped around my wrist instead, pulling it toward him.

“Holy shit,” I whispered as he slid the ring on my finger.

“Had some extra cash lyin’ around since I didn’t need a down payment,” he joked roughly.

The diamond was round and big and had little clusters of smaller diamonds on the sides—I knew nothing about jewelry, but I loved it so much.

“Had Lou help me find it. She said you’d like vintage.”

“This is vintage?” I asked, yanking my hand back so I could look at it up close.

“Don’t know the history, but it’s old,” he said in amusement. “But I took it to a jeweler, and it won’t fall apart or anything. The stones won’t fall out.”

“It’s so beautiful.”

“I was gonna wait to ask you,” he said, lying down beside me. “But I already told your dad I was gonna ask you—”

“Ask me what?” I batted my eyelashes at him.

He shot me a look and kept talking. “I didn’t want him to start flappin’ his jaws and have you find out from a random cousin or somethin’.”

“Ask me what?” I repeated.

“You gonna marry me?”

I looked at him for a moment, thinking. “I suppose that will do.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Doesn’t have to be right now,” he said, fiddling with the ring. “We can wait however long you want.”

“Maybe next year?”

“Tell me where to be, and I’ll be there.”

“Are you going to wear a tux?”

“Fuck no.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m the fuckin’ life of the party,” he replied, deadpan.

When he leaned forward to kiss me, everything around us faded away. The scent of his skin and the abrasion of his beard against my cheeks, and the feel of his strong hands cupping my face and gripping my fingers were suddenly my entire world. We were two pieces of a whole. It may have taken us a bit to find out how we fit, but now that we knew, we seemed to flow together seamlessly.

Eventually, we’d get married. I’d convince him to attend a therapy session with me, and my therapist would watch wide-eyed as we argued the entire time and then be perfectly happy to leave together. Someday, I’d give him babies. We’d buy a bigger house.

But that night? We were just happy to be cocooned in bed together, safe and warm and sleepy, talking about all the things we wanted and all of the things we needed and all of the reasons that we were the only ones who could give those things to each other.