Page 23 of Myla: The Hawthornes

The look on Richie’s face when Saoirse graduated from college. How he’d cried when Sean was born, trying valiantly to hide it—but we’d all seen. When he’d walked into the house in a rented tux to take eleven-year-old Aisling to the daddy-daughterdance she’d been talking about for weeks. His puffed-up chest when Ronan was valedictorian in high school.

Jesus. Richie couldn’t die.

And where the hell was my baby sister?

It was one of the longest nights of my life.

Chapter 5

Myla

“Has he called?”Lou asked carefully as she moved around the kitchen.

“No,” I muttered. My face felt tender and tight, and I knew that I looked like shit. About an hour after Lou and Frankie had knocked on my door asking if I needed anything, the numbness had worn off. I’d spent the three hours after that quietly sobbing into my pillow until I’d finally passed out.

I was an idiot. I’d known that I shouldn’t say anything. I’d known that throwing it in Cian’s face that we weren’t together wasn’t going to go over well. Now, I felt small and immature and really fucking bad that I’d blamed him for something that wasn’t even his fault. I was the daughter of one of the Aces on our own club grounds—if that hadn’t stopped the moron at the party, nothing would have.

“Well, last night didn’t go how I’d thought it would,” Frankie announced as she stomped into the kitchen. “How you doing? You good?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, leaning my chin on my hand.

“He’s an idiot,” Frankie mused, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “And a liar. Hecaresabout you? Spare me.”

“He just seemed shocked,” Lou added. “I bet he’ll call today.”

“Maybe he’s just—” I shrugged. “I must’ve read it wrong.”

“You’ve read years of signs wrong?” Frankie asked doubtfully.

“A year,” I corrected. “If that.”

“Uh, no,” Lou chimed in. “Way longer than a year. He was undressing you with his eyes for a lot longer than that.”

“I can tell you exactly when it started,” Frankie said, leaning back against the counter. “It was that camping trip when you wore that little pink bikini. When was that? Freshman year of college?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lou agreed, nodding. “I remember that.”

“It was between sophomore and junior year,” I corrected. I remembered that bikini. The strap had broken halfway through the trip, and I’d had to wear a ratty one-piece from high school the rest of the time.

“See, it’s been years.” Frankie shot me a grim smile. “And if you weren’t reading the signs right, none of us were either.Everyonehas seen how he looks at you. Not just us.”

“Well, he made it pretty clear last night that everyone was wrong.”

“I don’t know, My,” Lou said with a wince. “Really, I think he was just surprised.”

“He shouldn’t have been,” Frankie countered. “Myla’s always called him out on his shit.”

“Yeah, but it was different,” Lou argued.

“He needs to man up,” Frankie said flatly. “I love the guy, but seriously, grow a pair.”

“Do you think he’ll agree to just pretend it didn’t happen?” I asked quietly. “Because that’s really the ideal outcome at this point.”

Frankie laughed.

“He’ll call,” Lou assured me. “He probably just needed a minute to think about it.”

“He’s had enough minutes,” Frankie shot back. “I say we go out tonight and find you a random.”

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