Page 19 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“I will.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart. Go back to Aoife, yeah? Text me if you get any news.”

“I will.”

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there after Saoirse hung up. I was closer to my siblings than most. After our dad died and our mother went off the rails, we’d had to stick together. When my mom died the day before my fourteenth birthday, my sister Aoife had already been raising us for four years. I’d started calling her Mam at some point because that’s what she was. She’d been justa kid when she took over the responsibility of keeping us alive and together—and she’d never asked for thanks or appreciation or any of that shit.

Richie had been there supporting her—and, by extension, the rest of us—almost the entire time. He’d moved in after our mother died, committing himself to my sister and taking the four of us kids on when he was only twenty-two years old. He’d taught me how to drive. How to throw a punch so I didn’t break my fingers. Slipped me cash when I didn’t fail any classes in high school. Bought me my first box of condoms. Ripped me a new asshole when I stayed out all night and worried Aoife. I couldn’t imagine a world that he wasn’t in.

Shaking myself out of my stupor, I made another call.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, I gotta go home. Not sure when I’ll be back.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Family emergency. My brother-in-law’s in the hospital. Not sure if he’ll make it.”

“Fuck. Sorry to hear that. You want to bring a couple of the boys with you?”

“I got it.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“All right, keep us posted, yeah?”

“Will do.”

I was on the road less than a minute later. I knew the route so well that I could’ve done it in my sleep, which was a good thing because I was completely out of it. I stopped for gas halfway there at the same station I always did. Grabbed a burrito and water while I was there because I knew I needed it. Got a text from Saoirse that Richie was out of surgery, but there was no change in his status.

They still didn’t know if he’d pull through.

No word on Aisling.

When I pulled into the hospital parking lot in late afternoon, my fingers were stiff from gripping the handlebars, my ass ached, and I felt like a fucking zombie. That didn’t stop me from hurrying toward the front doors and up to the waiting room.

There were other people in the area, but I barely noticed them. Aoife was pacing down at the end of the room. Saoirse was doing something on her phone. Ronan and Aunt Ashley were sitting on a sofa, talking quietly.

My family.

I went straight for Aoife.

“You’re here,” she called, hurrying toward me. The minute she reached me, her entire body slumped against mine, her arms wrapping around my waist.

“I’m here,” I confirmed, kissing the top of her head. “How you holdin’ up?”

“This is so fucked, Cian,” she whispered against my chest. “So fucking fucked.”

“I know.”

“Why the hell would anyone shootRichie? The man would toss over the keys to his truck if a stranger asked for them. It doesn’t make anysense,and we can’t find Aisling. She’s not calling anyone back, and her voicemail is full now, so we’ve just been sending texts every fifteen minutes. Where the fuck is she?”

“I’ll find her,” I replied, giving her a squeeze.

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