Page 65 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“Jesus Christ, Richie,” I muttered, leaning back in disgust. He didn’t have to say anything else. I knew how to read between these particular lines.

How could he have been so goddamn stupid?

“I don’t—” Saoirse said, looking between us in confusion. “He was doing what?”

“Go out and meet Aoife,” I ordered.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Saoirse,” I snapped.

“Not happening.”

The argument ended when our big sister burst into the room, so filled with relief that her feet barely touched the ground as she rushed to Richie.

“You’re awake,” she whispered, reaching for his face. “Thank the good Lord. Oh, god. You’re awake.”

Richie opened his mouth, and by the expression on his face, I knew what he was going to say. I couldn’t watch it.

Without a word, I left the room.

Aoife’s faith in Richie was unshakable. She’d adored him since they were kids, and he’d always returned the favor. I wasn’t sure that I could see that faith smashed to pieces without smashing something else to pieces. Anything else.

When I reached the waiting room, Will was on his feet, his expression grim.

Bas, Frankie, Lou, and Myla looked like they’d just come off the elevator. They had Titus and Noel with them.

I didn’t want to talk to any of them. The rage flowing through my veins felt like a living thing, and I wasn’t sure how long I could carry it before I detonated.

“Wanker,” Will said in warning as I strode forward.

I ignored him.

“Baby,” Myla whispered, her eyes filled with concern. She’d never called me that before.

Without acknowledging anyone else, I grabbed her by the hand and tugged her with me as I kept walking.

“Cian,” Titus snapped.

“It’s fine,” Myla called over her shoulder. “We’ll be right back.”

“Not a good idea,” Bas muttered from behind me. I felt him start toward us, but I’d already reached the door to the bathroom and thrown it wide.

It was a single, and the door had a lock, and before Bas was anywhere close, I’d thrown it shut again and flipped the lock.

I couldn’t get enough air. It felt like I was choking.

“Hey,” Myla said, immediately getting into my space. Her hands came to my face, cupping my cheeks as she forced my head down. “Hey, breathe.”

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“You’re good,” she soothed. “You’re good. Take a deep breath.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” I choked out.

“The guy who hurt Aisling?” she asked gently, her thumbs brushing back and forth on my cheeks. “I figured you already had.”

“Richie.” I leaned away from her hands and shoved my hair out of my face. “I love him and I’m gonna fuckin’killhim.”

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