Page 3 of Ciaran

The server saves me from responding by arriving with our coffees. I add cream, one sugar, stir, then set the spoon on the table. Picking up my cup, I blow across the top of the drink and take a sip.

“Are you back for good or just visiting?” I ask.

“For good, I think.”

My lips shape a grin until I remember she isn’t free to chase, and that grin slides off my face. “How’s Tanner?”

She blanches, eyes downcast, her fingers closing around her coffee cup before she taps her nails against the side. Her hair falls in a veil, covering the right-hand side of her face. With a jerky hand, she tucks it behind her ear. “I don’t know,” she says with a shrug, adding, “We split up a few days ago.”

“Oh? I’m sorry to hear that.” I’m not in the least bit sorry to hear she and Tanner aren’t together anymore. I wish she’d never married the asshole. But I can’t deny I’m worried. She’s just… off. Like a puzzle with the wrong pieces in the box. It doesn’t add up to the girl I once knew. I get that people change as they get older, but this isn’t a change. It’s a metamorphosis.

She lifts her eyes to mine—two deep pools of warm chocolate that have me leaning forward like she’s gravity. Yet behind the eyes that have invaded my dreams since I was a teenager lies pain and suffering. Whatever her life has been like, the last ten years have transformed her from the happy-go-lucky girl I knew to the troubled woman sitting before me.

“I should have left him a long time ago,” she states, accompanying her words with a glance out the window. Her hands are clenched, and she’s gnawing hard enough on her bottom lip to cut through the skin.

My instincts fire. She reminds me of some of the women my charity has helped over the years. Whatever the trigger was that forced her decision to leave him, she’s scared.

I fist my hands, mirroring hers, although the reasoning is polar opposite. I’m not fucking scared. I’m mad. If that bastard laid a hand on her, I’ll kill him.

“Is he still in Chicago?”

She nods. “At least I hope so.” Her eyes briefly close. “He doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d prefer to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

Yep. Nailed it.

I run my gaze over her while her attention is diverted, unable to see any bruises, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Even if he hasn’t abused her physically, there are a multitude of ways a bully like Tanner can break down their victim, leaving their life in tatters, and their self-confidence on the floor.

“He won’t hear it from me.” I couldn’t stand the guy then and I like him even less now.

“What about you? Married? Kids?”

The abrupt change of subject is telling: deflect attention, block others from digging too deeply, turn the conversation around to them. Most people love to talk about themselves and probably wouldn’t notice they’re being manipulated. Not me. I recognize the signs because I use the same tactics. I’ll play along—for now—and give her space because the vibes pouring out of her say she needs it badly.

“Neither.”

“Oh.” She tucks her hair behind her right ear then immediately frees it, a habit she always had, and one I always adored. “I thought some lucky girl would have snapped you up by now.”

She already did, she just doesn’t know it.

“Married to the job, I think.”

“Yeah, I hear that about cops. They’re supposed to make terrible husbands.”

Her answering smile is tight. What I would give for a full-on, beaming grin, or one of her throaty laughs I remember so fondly.

“Oh, I don’t know, some make it work. I guess it depends on finding the right woman who understands the demands of being married to a police officer.”

She nods in agreement. “So, how’s Callum? Still breaking hearts?”

I study her face. Did her voice lift at the mention of my brother? No, I’m reading too much into it. Ten years is a long time. We’ve all changed. Especially her.

“Not any longer, no,” I say, watching her response carefully. “He’s finally settled down with someone. Her name’s Laurella, and she’s amazing. Exactly the kind of girl he needs. Very good at putting him in his place.”

She chuckles. “Poor Callum.”

“I’m surprised you’re showing him pity after what he did to you.”

Her eyes flare, then she laughs, and it reminds me so much of the girl I once knew, my chest aches with the familiarity of it.

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