Chapter 3

Myla

I heard Cian the moment he turned onto our street. A Harley’s exhaust was as distinctive as a voice, and after years of riding on the back of it, I knew his by heart.

“Uh-oh,” Lou said from the couch as I stomped toward the front door.

“Wait until I get to the window,” Frankie half joked, jogging in from the kitchen.

“Give them some privacy,” Lou scolded as I passed her.

“No way in hell,” Frankie argued.

I didn’t hear Lou’s reply as I stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind me just as Cian parked his bike between our cars in the driveway.

“Here to apologize?” I called as he strode toward me.

“For savin’ your ass again ?” he replied. “Not fuckin’ likely.”

“Then you can turn around and skedaddle on home,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because you’re not coming in my house.”

“You wanna do this in the rain?” he asked, throwing his hands up. “Fine with me, I’m already fuckin’ soaked.”

“Do what exactly?” I shot back. “If you’re not here to grovel, we don’t have anything to talk about.”

“Why the fuck do you think I have anythin’ to grovel about?” he asked dubiously. “You should be apologizin’ to me for puttin’ me on your dad’s shit list.”

I opened my mouth and snapped it shut again. I could not believe him. After the shit he’d said to my dad, acting like I was some out-of-control party girl when we both knew that wasn’t the case? When the only reason things had gotten so out of hand was because he wouldn’t let me sleep in my own damn tent? A small growl worked its way up my throat.

“Well, this has been fun,” I said sarcastically. “You have a nice night.”

“We’re not done,” he snapped.

“Oh, I’m done,” I replied cheerfully, knowing that my tone would piss him off more. That was the best and worst part of knowing someone so well—you knew just how to push their buttons. I turned toward the door. “Bye.”

“Myla,” he called in warning.

“You have a safe ride home.” I walked back inside and slammed the door in his face.

What an absolute dick.

Lou stared at me wide-eyed from the couch.

“Oh shit,” Frankie mumbled, still staring out the front window.

Less than two seconds later, the door behind me swung open, hitting the wall with a bang.

“I should’ve locked the door,” I snapped as Cian walked right through it.

“I’ve got a fuckin’ key,” he barked back. He glanced at Lou and Frankie. “What the hell are you thinkin’ drivin’ down to Sacramento for a fuckin’ club party?”

“What?” Lou asked in confusion.

Frankie smiled.

“How exactly is it any of your business?” I asked, glaring at the water he was dripping on the floor. I didn’t have any idea what he was talking about, but his tone was grating on my freaking nerves.

“You’re jokin’, right?”

It was supremely irritating that he could look so hot while he was glaring at me and dripping water all over my original hardwood floors.

“Cian, just go home,” I ordered, throwing my hands in the air.

“Are you serious with this shit?” he asked in exasperation. “Grow the fuck up, Myla.”

“Interesting that you should say that,” I shot back. “Since apparently the entire reason you came over here was to order me around like a child. I’ll go to whatever freaking party I want. It’s none of your goddamn business.”

“It’s my business when you’re doin’ stupid shit that could get you hurt.”

“See, there you go, calling me stupid again.”

“I didn’t call you stupid,” he roared.

“You did it the night of the party, and you just did it again,” I argued. “Why the fuck are you even here? If I’m so stupid, maybe you should steer clear. Wouldn’t want it to rub off or anything.”

“Christ,” he whispered, roughly rubbing his hands over his face. “Why can’t you have a normal fuckin’ conversation? Just once.”

“I am!”

“No, you’re not,” he replied flatly. “You started in on your shit the second I got off my bike, and you haven’t stopped since.”

“If you’re not here to apologize, then we don’t have anything to talk about.”

“I’m not apologizin’ for savin’ your ass.”

“Okay, maybe apologize for telling my dad that I was hammered when I wasn’t?”

“You were drunk!” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “We both know you were. Ask Frankie—she knows you were, too.”

“Don’t bring me into it,” Frankie said from the couch. “I’m just here for the show.”

“I wasn’t any drunker than I’ve been before at club parties, and no one said shit about it then. Then it was fun, right? But all of a sudden, it’s some huge deal?”

“There weren’t six different clubs at the other parties,” Cian said slowly, staring at me like I had two heads. “Every other party you’ve been to has been mostly just club members.”

“And?” I muttered.

“And?” he asked in disbelief.

“I was on club grounds,” I blurted. “I should’ve been safe.”

“What planet are you fuckin’ livin’ on?” he asked with a defeated sigh. “Jesus Christ, Myla. You’re actin’ like you didn’t grow up in the life.”

“Am I wrong?”

“A couple of those clubs?” Cian shook his head. “You don’t wanna know what they’re into. But they brought their women, so we brought our women—show of good faith while we were discussin’ boundaries and a bunch of other shit you don’t need to know. What woulda happened if that motherfucker had succeeded and raped you, Myla? Huh?”

I just stared at him.

“I woulda fuckin’ killed him,” he answered for me. “Then I woulda had a target on my back—and a target on my back is a target on every single Ace. Negotiations over. Truce is fuckin’ gone. All because you couldn’t keep your fuckin’ head straight and read a goddamn room.”

“It’s not like I gave him any indication—”

“You’re single, and you were dancin’ on every fuckin’ surface at the club.”

“And whose fault is that?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“You implyin’ it’s my fault that you were drunk and shakin’ your ass?” he asked dubiously.

“No,” I ground out. “I’m implying that it’s your fault I’m single .”

His head jerked back like I’d slapped him. Like he was surprised. Like it hadn’t even occurred to him.

“If you would’ve claimed me years ago,” I said, my voice shaking. “Instead of acting like a fucking coward , that guy would’ve never followed me outside.”

“We’re friends, Myla,” Cian murmured with a grimace.

The words hit with the force of a hurricane, and I nearly stumbled backward. Until the party a few weeks before, Cian and I had seen each other almost every day. We spoke all day long, even when we were at work. We’d partied together, slept in the same bed more times than I could count, and talked about all the shit we didn’t share with anyone else. We’d even fooled around a few times, though it hadn’t gotten very far.

Cian knew me better than anyone, even my best friends. He was my person.

“Right,” I croaked. My entire body felt like it had been filled with lead. My feet were too heavy to lift. My hands were numb.

“Myla, come on—”

“This shit isn’t entertaining anymore,” Frankie said flatly, getting to her feet. “It’s time for you to go.”

“Myla,” Cian said quietly, ignoring her. “You know I care about you.”

I let out a choked noise, but I didn’t know if it was from pain or the sheer disbelief that he’d actually spoken the cliché words.

“And,” Lou sang out, her voice laced with irritation. “Now I’m telling you. Leave, Cian.”

“This is between me and Myla,” he argued.

“Huh,” Lou said, stomping toward us. “And here I thought there was no you and Myla .”

“I’ll see you around,” I said, watching as he looked from one face to the next, his brows pulled together in confusion. “Let’s just forget the party, yeah? Thanks for taking care of that guy for me. I had it handled, but your way was…a lot more efficient.”

“Don’t leave it like this,” Cian said quietly as I turned toward my room.

“We’re good,” I assured him, waving over my shoulder. “I’ll text you.”

Lou and Frankie laid into him the minute I reached the hallway, but I blocked it out. I was too focused on breathing and walking calmly away from the entire situation.

The humiliation was intense, but I’d been humiliated before, and it wasn’t like Cian would tell anyone. The disbelief was pretty overwhelming, too, but again, I’d been shocked before—it wasn’t as if I wouldn’t get over it.

It was the disappointment that had me closing my bedroom door and stumbling toward the bed, my legs like jelly. I’d spent years assuming that Cian and I would eventually end up together. Years of building a relationship with him, hanging on his every word, adoring him.

I’d gone along with the status quo, figuring that at some point he’d make the first move toward something more. It wasn’t as if the attraction wasn’t there—Cian and I had so much chemistry I could taste it. There was something that kept us just this side of taking the plunge, and I never really knew what it was, but I hadn’t been willing to risk everything.

That instinct had clearly been the right one.

If I hadn’t said anything, maybe I wouldn’t have ended up on my bed, staring blankly at the wall, wondering what the hell I’d just done.