Page 80 of Myla: The Hawthornes

She pulled the bins out and opened each of them. In one was a tightly wrapped roll of bills.

I whistled quietly.

“Tips,” she said nonchalantly. “I was saving up to go to Europe. If I kept it in here, I knew I wouldn’t spend it.”

She carefully sorted through the bins, making sure everything was where she’d left it, closed them, and set them down next to her blanket.

“The bathroom is a nightmare,” she said. “Oh, you can put the mattress back.”

I heaved it back into place.

“As you can see,” she murmured. “Clothes are ruined.”

The dresser was torn apart and ripped up clothes covered the floor. Some of them were wet. I didn’t want to know why.

I wasn’t sure what to say. Either Julian Kitz or whoever he’d sent to do his dirty work had been thorough. I’d known it before I brought Aisling back to her apartment, but I’d wanted to give her the chance to go through the stuff herself.

“We can go,” she announced, bending over carefully to grab her bins and blanket. “I’ve got what I need.”

“I’ll carry those.”

“No thanks.” She crushed them against her chest. “I’ve got them.”

When we got back to the main living area, Bas had already cleaned up a little, and there were five garbage bags lined up along the wall.

“Thanks,” Aisling said as she noticed them. She glanced around hopelessly. “How am I supposed to clean all this up? I’m never getting my deposit back.”

“Saoirse hired a cleaner,” I told her, grinding my teeth together. “They’ll clear it all out and hand over the keys to your property manager.”

“Oh,” Aisling mumbled. “Cool, thanks.”

We didn’t bother locking the door on our way out. If someone wanted to steal empty bottles of shampoo and random pieces of sliced-up clothing, they were welcome to it.

We’d left Aunt Ashley, Aoife, and Saoirse with Gray back at the house. Richie’s family had finally gotten back from their tripand Aisling hadn’t wanted to be there when they showed up. I didn’t blame her. She was having a hard enough time without Richie’s stick-up-their-ass parents gawking at her.

I didn’t want to watch Aoife handing them the urn of Richie’s “ashes.” The whole thing was so incredibly fucked.

Things were getting settled pretty quickly. Aoife and Sean were mostly packed up, Aisling’s apartment would be cleaned and turned over after we were gone, and Ronan had started looking into transferring closer to us in Oregon—it would take him a while longer before he could move.

There was one thing left to do, and I was both dreading it and looking forward to it.

The house was quiet when we got back and Bas walked Aisling inside. A minute later, Gray came out, and we climbed on our bikes.

“Let me do the talking,” Gray ordered as we strode toward a restaurant off the interstate. “Keep your cool, or I swear to Christ—”

“Got it,” I replied.

I didn’t know the man we were meeting, but I still could’ve picked him out of a crowd. He was older, with salt-and-pepper hair and a thousand-dollar suit. He stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Billy,” Gray greeted, sliding into the booth across from the man.

“White,” the man replied.

I just barely stopped myself from reacting. I knew Gray’s last name was White, but I so rarely heard it. We’d given him shit years ago because who named their kid Gray White? We’d only mentioned it once because Gray had lost his mind. His dead mother had picked the name, andit was Grayson, assholes. Leo had shortened it to Gray, which stuck.

“Seems we have a bit of a situation,” Gray said flatly.

“Well, I wouldn’t say—”

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