Page 66 of Craving Chaos

I told myself to think through my options clearly, but every instinct I have insists Shae Byrne is mine. It’s as simple as that. What is there to debate when my soul has already decided?

An overwhelming wave of relief sweeps over me.

Yes. Shae is mine—that’s not up for debate. The only thing left to decide is how we move forward.

The newfound certainty eases my worry over parting with her. Because if Shae is mine, it’s only a matter of time before we’re together again. I just have to figure out how.

CHAPTER 38

SHAE

Half of New York stands on the tarmac when we land back home. From the looks of it, both our families came out in full force.

Catholic families of Irish or Italian descent don’t play around when it comes to taking advantage of the child tax credit. Easily a hundred people are cheering and holding up signs when we exit the plane as if we’ve competed in the Olympics and have returned draped in gold medals.

I would have eaten up the attention a month ago. Devoured it like Thanksgiving dinner. I’m excited and touched that so many people came out, but I also feel an odd heaviness weighing me down. Even smiling takes effort. All I can think about is how long this will take before I’m allowed to go home and crawl into bed. I’m not sure why. I don’t necessarily feel like sleeping. All I want is to be alone. In the dark.

Holy crap—am I depressed?

How? Why would I be depressed now that I’m finally home? Things are leaving off on a rough note with Renzo, but surely, that’s not enough to drag me so far down. I don’t think I’ve ever been legitimately depressed in my life. Usually, if I’m feeling upset, I go to the gym and spar with someone or beat the hell out of the heavy bag, and I’m right as rain in no time. When I think of the gym now, it has zero appeal. The opposite, if I’m honest. It sounds like way too much effort.

Yeah, something’s not right.

Get through the next hour, then you can decompress and figure out where your head is at.

We are instantly absorbed into the crowd, smothered with hugs and happy tears. The unexpected bonus of looking like a skeletal version of myself was how quickly I was urged to go home and rest. Before long, I was ushered into the passenger seat of Oran’s car. His fiancée, Lina, insisted on taking the back seat. He starts our drive by grumbling about how Noemi bullied their way onto the plane. I find this amusing because Noemi is no bully; my brother just didn’t have the balls to tell her no.

He gives me a new phone synced to my old number, which is incredibly thoughtful. The last thing I want to do is go phone shopping. Or any kind of shopping, for that matter.

“You can drop me up front,” I tell him when he nears my building. Parking isn’t exactly easy to come by, and I’m beyond ready to be alone.

“I think I should make sure you get up there safely.”

I level him with a murderous stare. “Oran Byrne, I may look like shit, but it’s still me. Don’t go treating me any differently because of this. Renzo was kidnapped too, and I doubt his family feels the need to walk him to his door.” This was exactly what I’d feared. I have to nip it in the bud before it can take root, though having the discussion with Lina listening in the back isn’t ideal.

Oran scowls as he parks in the drop-off zone in front of my building. “Yeah, I know. I’ll do my best,” he mutters. His concession comes rather easily, and I can’t help but think that has something to do with his headstrong wife sitting two feet away. I mentally retract my initial hesitancy about her presence.

My expression softens with a gentle smile. “Thank you. For everything.” I give him a hug, and he squeezes me within an inch of my life.

“Anytime, Shae butter. And I will be calling tomorrow to check on you. Deal with it.”

“I suppose I can manage a call,” I tease, then tell Lina goodbye and step from the car.

Time to make the last leg of my journey home.

Only, it’s not home that I return to because my apartment’s been ransacked. Everything is disheveled and tossed about.

I walk inside vigilantly, going quietly to the kitchen, where I keep a gun hidden under the sink. I walk room to room and verify that the place is empty, then I take in the mess. My TV is still in place. So are smaller electronics like my iPad charging on the desk. Even my jewelry is all present, though it’s been obviously riffled through.

I don’t understand. Who could have done this, and what would they possibly be looking for?

The whole thing feels like yet another boulder on my back. My legs threaten to give out from the weight. I can’t deal with this. It’s too much.

I don’t even have the energy to worry about my safety. All I can manage is to crawl into bed and pretend the world doesn’t exist.

CHAPTER 39

RENZO

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