Page 60 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“Did you see her face?” he asked softly, his lips tipping up at the corners. “Ash thought it was funny.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“The joke wasn’t meant for you.”

“Why are you trying to calm me down when I’m not even pissed at you?”

“Hell if I know.”

“I have to go to the hotel and shower.”

“Probably a good idea since your hair smells like armpit.”

“You said it didn’t!”

“Well…”

“It’syourarmpit.”

Cian laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thanks for comin’ with me last night.”

“Of course,” I replied, smiling back. “Why the hell do you think I’m here?”

He reached out and cupped the back of my head, pulling me toward him so he could press his lips to my forehead. “Text me when you’re done, and I’ll let you know where I’m at.”

“Are you going back to the hospital?” I asked, pulling away.

“Probably.”

“Okay.”

He walked me to the door and stood just inside as I jogged down the porch steps, pulling on the helmet as I went. My dad was already on his bike and started it up as soon as I’d climbed on behind him. Moments later, we were rolling down the driveway and pulling out onto the street.

The hospital wasn’t far from Aoife and Richie’s house, and the motel Brenna had found for us was directly across the street, so it only took a few minutes before we were parking again next to a row of bikes.

A whole row of rooms along the upstairs walkway were open, and I could hear familiar voices drifting out of them.

“I’m guessing we’re upstairs,” I mused as I waited for dad to get off the bike.

He looked up at the rooms and grimaced. “They needed a little airin’ out. They smelled like no one had been in ’em for about forty years.”

“Yum,” I muttered as I followed him toward the stairwell. “I can’t believe you said that to Aisling.”

Dad paused halfway up the stairs and turned his head to look at me. “You think she would’ve appreciated it more if I woulda told her how sorry I was that some sick bastard fucked up her face?” he asked curiously.

I winced.

“Yeah.”

He turned and kept walking. “That girl’s puttin’ on a brave face. She don’t want anyone babyin’ her or showin’ a hint of compassion. I get that. But I wasn’t about to walk outta that house without acknowledgin’ that I saw what was done to her.”

“Okay, Dad,” I said softly.

“Don’t you ever pretend that you don’t see the bad shit in this world,” Dad ordered, waiting for me at the top step. “That’s when it wins.”

“I won’t.”

“I know you won’t,” he said, guiding me toward our row of rooms with a hand on my back. “Now go brush your hair. You look like you got caught in a wind tunnel.”

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