Page 114 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“It wasn’t a secret. Titus knew. Bas knew. Brody knew. Hell, everyone knew. They were gonna help me move.”

I sunk back into the seat and stared uncomprehendingly out the windshield. We hadn’t been together when he’d made the plans. To be fair, they wouldn’t have affected me at all.

But I’d thought we were best friendsbefore. He knew everything about me. He would’ve been the first one I told if I was selling my house or my car or even my couch. I wasn’t even angry about it. I was stunned.

“Myla, what’s up?” Cian asked. “It’s not like you wouldn’t have found out. I wasn’t movin’ to the moon.”

“You didn’t tell me,” I replied woodenly.

“Didn’t think I needed your permission,” he replied, frustration lacing his voice. “Next time I decide to buy a house, I’ll run it by you first.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“You’ve got your panties in a twist because I was gonna buy my aunt’s house—which I won’t be doin’ until God knows when, by the way, since it’s full of people now and I’d have to sleep in the fuckin’ yard.”

“I don’t care if you buy a house,” I argued. “Buy five! I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Again,” he ground out. “Didn’t know I needed to run it past you.”

“You’re deliberately being obtuse.”

“You’re deliberately bein’ a pain in my ass for no reason,” he shot back as he turned into my driveway. “Jesus Christ.”

“How would you feel if I put my house on the market and just never said anything to you about it?” I asked, unbuckling my seat belt. “And then months later, I’m like oh yeah. That happened. Didn’t think I needed to run it past you.”

Cian stared at me blankly.

“Right,” I snapped, throwing open my door.

“Myla, you’re losin’ your shit for no reason,” he called as he followed me toward the house.

“I’m not losing my shit,” I countered.

“You’re pissed I didn’t ask your permission about buyin’ a house that I haven’t even bought yet.”

“That’s not what I’m pissed about,” I argued, letting myself into the house. “And if you were listening to the words that are coming out of my mouth, you wouldknowthat.”

“What’s your problem?” he asked in exasperation, slamming the front door closed. “For fuck’s sake, woman.”

“Don’twomanme,” I spat, tossing my boot in his direction. It bounced off the wall as I reached for the second one. “And don’t wear your wet boots into my house!”

“Fuck me,” he muttered, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“I tell you everything.” I tossed the second boot. “And you don’t even tell me the big stuff!”

“I tell you plenty.”

“Sure,” I replied sarcastically. “You’re a regular chatterbox.”

“Myla, come on,” he said tiredly. “We had a good night. Can you just stop?”

“I’m not even pissed.” I threw my hands in the air. “Or, I wasn’t until you acted like I was crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were crazy.”

“You didn’t have to!”

“We gonna do this the rest of the night?”

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