Page 149 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“Therapist,” I corrected.

“All right,” he replied slowly.

“It helps being able to talk to someone,” I said, smiling at the suspicion in his voice. “You should try it.”

“You can talk to me about whatever you want,” he said, pulling off his hoodie.

“Idotalk to you about whatever I want,” I agreed. “But you’re just as fucked up as I am. I need a professional.”

Cian let out a huff of laughter. “That’s fair.”

We were quiet as I stripped off my pajama pants and slid under the covers.

“You know Aoife pretty much raised me?”

“Yeah,” I replied, turning to look at him. He’d sat down on the vanity stool, his hands clasped between his knees.

“My dad died when I was nine.”

“I remember.”

“And my mom was still there,” he said quietly. “But for all intents and purposes, she abandoned us.”

I nodded.

“I think it fucked with me more than I realized.”

“Understandable,” I replied softly.

“When you disappear on me? Leaves a really bad taste in my mouth,” he said, looking up to meet my eyes. “A familiar taste.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He shook his head. “Not tryin’ to guilt you. Just tryin’ to explain why it took so fuckin’ long before I grew a pair and made shit official.”

“I’m not going to leave you,” I murmured, tucking my hands under my cheek. “I wasn’t even really leaving you then. For me, I was just putting us on pauses. Restarting.”

“Don’t wanna restart with you anymore.”

“I promised I wouldn’t do it again,” I reminded him.

“I know.” He let out a long breath. “I know you did.”

“Why are you bringing it up, baby?”

“Because I realized today—it doesn’t matter what you do. I’m still gonna be right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere. You take off? I’m gonna be right where you left me when you get back. No conditions. No ultimatums. This is where I’ll be.” He was holding something between his fingers. “You do it, I’ll stay. But it’ll hurt me.”

“I understand,” I replied, my nose stinging.

“And I’ll tell you the important shit.”

“Okay.”

“You in this with me?”

“Always,” I murmured.

With a nod, he stood and leaned over the bed. I thought he was reaching for my face, and I tipped my head up for a kiss, but his hand wrapped around my wrist instead, pulling it toward him.

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