Page 128 of Myla: The Hawthornes

The problem was that I wasn’t sure how to put an end to whatever argument we were having. Bowing out gracefully had never been my strong suit, which was probably the consequence of growing up the only girl in a houseful of older brothers. I needed to figure it out.

After calling Lou on my way home to tell her that we’d probably be adding Bas to our girls’ night out, I headed home to change with a knot in my belly.

The disagreement about taking someone with us to watch our backs felt remarkably similar to the fight we’d had after the guy from an allied club had gotten handsy with me. It chafed because I knew I could take care of myself. It also made me feel guilty because I knew that bringing someone with us was a small concession to make so that Cian wouldn’t worry.

He also wasn’t wrong about the added safety of having one of the Aces keeping an eye on things. Any time my mom andaunties went out? They had someone with them. It was a fact of life for old ladies. I just hated being told what to do.

The stop at my house was a quick one. I dropped my laptop bag on my bed and stripped out of my work clothes, throwing on a pair of jeans and a shirt that Cian had told me months before looked good on me. Even when I was irritated with him, I still remembered every piece of clothing he’d ever mentioned—and there had been a lot of them. My man had never been stingy with compliments.

By the time I got back into my car, I’d figured out a way to extend an olive branch without telling Cian that he was right and I was wrong. Lou said that Aunt Ashley had forgotten Saoirse’s cake back at the property, and it sounded like someone was going to have to run back and get it, but my house was closer than Titus’s place. It was easy enough to grab it on my way to the party. It would make me a few minutes late, but that wasn’t a big deal.

Back during one of the summer parties out at the property, Ashley had told me about how she used to accidentally lock her keys in the car all the time. She’d known the locksmith’s number by heart and had called him so often that he’d assumed that she was just trying to manufacture ways to see him. He was hot, so she’d admitted that she played into that instead of admitting the truth—that she was an airhead who kept locking her keys in her car. They’d ended up dating for a few months, and when they’d eventually broken up, Ashley had started stashing a key outside her car just in case. She did the same with the RV when she bought it.

There was a key stashed in a little magnetic case just inside the passenger side wheel well.

I figured bringing the cake to the party would remind Cian that I wasn’t there just to make his life harder, but I also came with some benefits too. I was thoughtful. Willing to lend a hand.

He’d see right through it, but I didn’t care. At least he’d know that I tried to extend an olive branch, even if he was also fully aware that there would be something else that we disagreed on tomorrow.

The property was deserted and quiet, and the house was dark, but they must’ve all ridden together because there were still three cars parked out front when I pulled up. I unconsciously threw my purse over my shoulder as I climbed out of my car and used my flashlight to light the way over to where the RV was parked in the carport. I’d forgotten how dark it was without any of the lights from town.

Carefully watching where I was going, I hurried over to the RV and reached up into the wheel well, searching blindly for the little key Ashley had hidden. I finally found it on my third pass through. My hand was disgusting by the time I was done.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I guess.

Saoirse’s cake was sitting right on the little table inside, and I grabbed it quickly since Ashley didn’t know that I was even in her little home away from home. It would definitely be weird to linger.

I’d like to say that I was paying attention to my surroundings—it was dark and I was in the middle of nowhere—but it didn’t even occur to me to have my guard up.

So when I stepped back outside the RV and realized that there was a man in the yard, I yelped and dropped the cake, effectively ruining the whole reason I was out there in the dark in the first place.

“Can I help you?” I asked, fumbling with my purse.

The guy didn’t say anything at first. It was almost as if I’d surprised him, too.

“This is private property,” I added. “You need to leave.”

My hand wrapped around a familiar shape, and the comfort of it steadied me a little, even though I was still shaking with nerves.

“Looking for Richie,” the guy said, taking a step toward me.

There wasn’t anything wrong with his tone. There wasn’t anything threatening about the way he was standing or behaving. There wasn’t anything off about him at all.

But I’d been raised to keep my guard up. To watch for things that other people took for granted. I’d been told over and over again to pay attention to my gut. That if something felt wrong, it probably was.

“You need to leave,” I ordered.

“I’m trying to find Richie,” he repeated.

Now, later, I’d realize that it was very bizarre that someone would look for Richie all the way out in Oregon. It made absolutely no sense. But right then, I was just confused and a little weirded out that I’d have to break the news to some strange man.

“I’m sorry,” I said, taking a small step toward the RV. “Richie’s dead.”

The guy laughed, and ice slid down my back.

“No, he’s not.”

“He is,” I argued. “I was there.”

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