Page 16 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“I am!”

“No, you’re not,” he replied flatly. “You started in on your shit the second I got off my bike, and you haven’t stopped since.”

“If you’re not here to apologize, then we don’t have anything to talk about.”

“I’m not apologizin’ for savin’ your ass.”

“Okay, maybe apologize for telling my dad that I was hammered when I wasn’t?”

“You were drunk!” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “We both know you were. Ask Frankie—she knows you were, too.”

“Don’t bring me into it,” Frankie said from the couch. “I’m just here for the show.”

“I wasn’t any drunker than I’ve been before at club parties, and no one said shit about it then. Then it was fun, right? But all of a sudden, it’s some huge deal?”

“There weren’t six different clubs at the other parties,” Cian said slowly, staring at me like I had two heads. “Every other party you’ve been to has been mostly just club members.”

“And?” I muttered.

“And?” he asked in disbelief.

“I was on club grounds,” I blurted. “I should’ve been safe.”

“What planet are you fuckin’ livin’ on?” he asked with a defeated sigh. “Jesus Christ, Myla. You’re actin’ like you didn’t grow up in the life.”

“Am I wrong?”

“A couple of those clubs?” Cian shook his head. “You don’t wanna know what they’re into. But they brought their women, so we brought our women—show of good faith while we were discussin’ boundaries and a bunch of other shit you don’t need to know. What woulda happened if that motherfucker had succeeded and raped you, Myla? Huh?”

I just stared at him.

“I woulda fuckin’ killed him,” he answered for me. “Then I woulda had a target on my back—and a target on my back is a target on every single Ace. Negotiations over. Truce is fuckin’ gone. All because you couldn’t keep your fuckin’ head straight and read a goddamn room.”

“It’s not like I gave him any indication—”

“You’re single, and you were dancin’ on every fuckin’ surface at the club.”

“And whose fault is that?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“You implyin’ it’s my fault that you were drunk and shakin’ your ass?” he asked dubiously.

“No,” I ground out. “I’m implying that it’s your fault I’msingle.”

His head jerked back like I’d slapped him. Like he was surprised. Like it hadn’t even occurred to him.

“If you would’ve claimed me years ago,” I said, my voice shaking. “Instead of acting like a fuckingcoward, that guy would’veneverfollowed me outside.”

“We’re friends, Myla,” Cian murmured with a grimace.

The words hit with the force of a hurricane, and I nearly stumbled backward. Until the party a few weeks before, Cian and I had seen each other almost every day. We spoke all day long, even when we were at work. We’d partied together, slept in the same bed more times than I could count, and talked about all the shit we didn’t share with anyone else. We’d even fooled around a few times, though it hadn’t gotten very far.

Cian knew me better than anyone, even my best friends. He was my person.

“Right,” I croaked. My entire body felt like it had been filled with lead. My feet were too heavy to lift. My hands were numb.

“Myla, come on—”

“This shit isn’t entertaining anymore,” Frankie said flatly, getting to her feet. “It’s time for you to go.”

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