Page 64 of Myla: The Hawthornes

Cian wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t stomping. He didn’t shove at the doors.

The man who’d teased me about the smell of my hair and accepted being the butt of his sister’s jokes that morning was gone. As Cian walked toward us, I barely recognized him.

His expression was so sharp and solividthat he didn’t even look like the man I was in love with.

Chapter 10

Cian

At first, Ihadn’t understood what Richie was saying. When he’d first opened his eyes and seen Saoirse, the shit coming out of his mouth hadn’t made any sense. He’d started crying, a wheezing wet sound that hit with the force of a hammer, and I’d felt my own eyes start to sting. She’d tried to calm him down while I’d texted Aoife to get her ass back to the hospital. I hadn’t been sure what to do to help him, so while the nurses had come in to check and make sure he was okay, I’d texted everyone else, letting them know he was awake.

I’d barely put my phone away when Saoirse had looked up at me, her eyes wide with shock.

“I’m so sorry,” Richie rasped. “I’m so sorry. Aisling?”

“She’s fine,” I said quickly, moving closer to the bed.

“I told him that,” Saoirse murmured. “Is Aoife on her way?”

I nodded.

“Didn’t mean for it,” Richie wheezed. “Just money. Didn’t know.”

My head snapped toward him. “You didn’t knowwhat?”

“Julian,” he replied. “Didn’t know.”

“You know Julian?” I asked quietly.

“Julian,” he said, nodding as he dropped his head back from the pillow. “Aisling?”

“She’s fine,” I repeated.

“Aisling,” he whispered brokenly.

“How do you know Julian, Richie?” I snapped. I didn’t understand what he was trying to say, but I had a really bad feeling.

Saoirse shot me a look, and I nodded and cleared my throat.

“How do you know him?” I asked, the strain in my voice barely noticeable.

“Worked for him,” Richie said, his words so quiet that I had to lean closer. “Just a little while.”

“You worked for Julian Kitz?” I jerked back in disbelief.

“Not long.” He opened his eyes again and looked at me and then Saoirse. “Aisling?”

I stared at him.

“She’s fine,” Saoirse said, rubbing her hand along Richie’s forearm. “She’s at home with Aoife.”

“What have you been doing for Julian Kitz?” I asked, my heart pounding.

“Side jobs,” Richie replied. “Remodel. Clean money.”

It took me a moment to piece it together. “You were cleaning his money.”

Richie nodded, his breathing labored. “Not long. Few months.”

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