Page 55 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“There isn’t enough room,” Myla informed me. Grabbing the blanket from the arm of the couch, she threw it wide, making sure it draped over me.

“Plenty of room,” I argued, my eyes already drooping. “Come here.”

I’m not sure how I aimed well enough to grab her before she took a step back, but somehow I caught her hand. Myla made a breathy whoop noise as she landed on top of me.

“See?” I grumbled, shifting her to the side until she was pressed between me and the back of the couch, most of her body draped over mine. “We fit.”

“Barely,” she said with a sigh, giving up on the argument as she lay her head on my shoulder.

“I like havin’ you close,” I mumbled, letting my eyes fall closed. “You need some of the blanket?”

I passed out before she answered.

Chapter 9

Myla

Uncle Will wasright. A marching band could’ve stomped through the room after Cian passed out and he wouldn’t have woken up. He definitely didn’t wake up as I scooted and shifted, trying to find a comfortable position while simultaneously trying to pull the blanket out from under me. By the time I’d settled in, my hair was in my eyes, I was wedged firmly between Cian and the couch, and in his sleep Cian had—with surprising accuracy—slid his hand down to grip my ass.

I wasn’t mad about it.

I texted my mom and the girls, letting them know that I was staying at Aoife’s for the night. All three of them texted back almost immediately that they were still at the hospital. Apparently someone had produced a deck of cards, and they were fleecing my dad and Leo for every penny in their wallets.

I grinned into the darkness.

We were there because something terrible had happened to Cian’s family. Something terrible wasstillhappening to Cian’s family…but there were still moments of good. Like everyone showing up to the hospital to stand vigil, even though Aoife was back in the ICU with Richie. Pulling out a pack of cards to pass the time and keep everyone awake. My uncle standing watch outside Cian’s childhood home so he could get some rest.

I lay there and listened to Cian’s heartbeat.

Something big was happening. I could feel it. Cian didn’t want me to know—none of the men wanted the women to know—but there was a feeling in the air when shit was about tohit the fan. Sharp looks when they thought we weren’t paying attention. Conversations that cut off the moment we got close. Hypervigilance that was impossible to miss.

It was like they thought we were either naïve or completely clueless.

I ran my thumb over the soft skin at the inside of Cian’s bicep as my expression fell.

In the dark, I finally let the tears come.

It had taken everything in me not to react when I’d seen Aisling’s face. It was a mottled mess of bruises and swelling, the split on her lip red and angry. Someone had done that to her, and I had zero doubt that there were far more telling bruises on the rest of her body. She’d moved like an old woman as Ashley led her from the room, like every movement she made was agonizing.

I’d almost lost it for a moment. It had been the anger and humiliation in her eyes that stopped me. She didn’t want my pity. She didn’t even want my empathy. She wanted me to be as angry as she was. After that, it hadn’t been hard to lock down my expression. Iwasangry. So angry that my hands had shook with it.

I hoped Cian had killed whoever had done that to her. I also accepted the fact that I’d probably never know if he had.

The front door opened, and my uncle poked his head inside. “He sleepin’?”

“Yeah, he’s out,” I called back softly.

“Good. I’ll be right out here the rest of the night.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll catch some sleep in the mornin’,” Uncle Will said with a grin. “Maybe Molly will tuck me in.”

“Gross.” I blew a raspberry at him. “Go back outside.”

Uncle Will laughed as he quietly shut the door again.

I lay there for a long time in the quiet. It seemed crazy that me and Cian hadn’t even been speaking when he left town. How completely ridiculous I’d been. What did it matter if Cian and I had a romantic relationship or not? I mean, of course, I would’ve preferred sex with him. I wasn’t dead. But if all I had was this? Being his best friend? Taking care of him when I could? Being there for him when shit got hard? Sleeping next to him once in a while? I’d take that. It wasn’t less, it was just different than what I’d hoped.

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