Page 124 of Manacled Hearts

I’m rushing to him, even if I wasn’t that far, and throw my arms around his waist, clutching him tight.

“You are! You’re doing so much. You’re enough!” I whisper into his bare back I’m staining with my teary cheeks.

Only when he tries to turn do I loosen my grip, and he wraps me in his arms, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “I’ll never be enough.”

There’s so much trauma carried in this salty breeze, too much pain, and unfathomable guilt.

Denying ourselves is only adding it to it all.

CHAPTER 30

EVELYN

Finnigan’s confession cleared some of the air, but revealing something like that about yourself, by force too, deals damage. We shared a shower in silence as we processed the heavy words. We dressed in silence, stealing stray touches as we passed each other. I put my makeup on in silence as he dealt with the gifts that were bought for us. And now we’ve been driving to Vincent’s in silence. It allowed me to think, maybe too much. He may be the playboy, but I’m the one playing him and I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now.

Maybe just as worse is that I’m playing myself too. I want this man. As much as I want a good job, a nice house, a better life for my sister and me. I want him there… to share it all with me. A pipe dream. And I can’t believe how stupid I was to pursue this without thinking of consequences, without making a decision about our lives first. I’ve never been selfish, never done anything just for myself, and this was a really, really stupid place to start.

But as I turn slightly, catching sight of the sharp line of his jaw, those almost boyish messy curls brushing against his ear, tense, full lips, and strong hands gripping the steering wheel and gear stick, I can’t help but stare. He is… mouthwatering. I know that beneath the cream shirt open at the collar is a strong, wide chest with the finest dusting of blonde hair, taut abs, and arms that beg for my nails to sink into them when he drives into me. But Finnigan Hennessey is so much more than that—he’s the man who always takes the time to talk to my sister, who takes care of us, checks on us, he’s the man who came after me when he knew my veins itched for poison, who took us in his home crowded with all the books he reads with fervent passion. He’s more than I ever gave him credit for.

And he’s pissed at me. Not because of the confession I pried out of him, but because he had to share it with someone who might be leaving him.

“Can I ask you something?” Maybe I am wielding that knife after all.

His hand twitches on the gear stick. “Go on.”

“Where are your parents? You’ve only ever mentioned them once.”

He frowns and looks at me as if to check if he heard me right, before he turns his attention back on the road.

“I told you before, on their yacht somewhere.”

“And you don’t care where?”

He sighs. “My parents are… interesting characters. They owned half of Queenscove, if not more, in real estate and other ventures. One day, about ten years ago, they decided they’ve done enough, sold off most of their businesses, transferred a few to my brother and I, and left to travel.”

“And just left you?” I blurt out without thinking.

Finnigan snorts and shakes his head. “My parents did many things without us throughout our lives. Ronan says they love us in their own way, but even he was surprised when they voluntarily showed up at his wedding.” He sighs yet again and continues. “Our parents didn’t raise us. They provided for us, yes. We had everything we needed and more, we were given anything we wanted if we asked for it, we went to great schools, and had any opportunity, but it wasn’t them who raised us. Even if we went on a holiday, it wasn’t them who spent time with us outside of meals at restaurants.”

I’m not sure how to take this. His upbringing was deeply different from mine. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either.

“I know, it sounds a lot like poor little rich kid, but it’s not money a kid wants, you know?” he says. “We want lo—memories. Memories with our parents, our family. Our grandparents were gone early, our only uncle lived far away, it was just us. Only, it was actually just me, Ronan, babysitters, and housekeepers.”

“I’m sorry…” I can’t imagine feeling so unloved. My heart breaks for the little boy who just wanted to spend time with his parents.

“I’m not sharing all this to feel sorry for me.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t, but you still feel sorry for me. Don’t. I’m a grown man, Evelyn. I’m over it. I’ve been over it for a very long time. Long story short, I have no idea where they are. Last month they were somewhere off the West coast. From time to time they return to their house here, check in, spend a few weeks, then leave again.”

“Do you miss them?” I know the answer before I finish asking the question.

“No.”

My heart squeezes at the nonchalance of that word that should be loaded. He doesn’t even speak it in a cold manner, it’s just… blatant. I find it hard to imagine what that feels like when I miss my mother so much. My father even more, knowing he’s alive, but not… fully there. I yearn for their touch, their hugs, their sweet kisses. Most of all, I miss their laughter. They were amazing separate, but together they were incredible. I can’t imagine how Finnigan would have turned out if he had parents like mine. Would his life be different? Would he still be involved in this business?

“Do they know about The Sanctum?” Curiosity gets the better of me.

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