Page 92 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“Myla, what’s going on?” Noel asked soothingly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I waved away the question. “Everything is fine. I’ll see you guys later.”

They watched from the doorway as I ran back to my car and crawled inside. The bravery that had gotten me over to Cian’s house was gone, and my hands shook as I backed my car up and turned around.

Cian was pissed at me, and I’d come to the painful realization that he had a right to be. Maybe I should just leave him alone. I’d tried, right? I went to his house but he wasn’t there. Maybe that was a sign.

I got home a few minutes later and slammed into the house, tearing my soaking wet sweatshirt over my head.

“Why are you back already?” Lou called, stepping out of her bedroom.

“He wasn’t there,” I replied dully. “I’m taking a shower.”

I closed the door firmly behind me and turned on the shower as hot as it would go. Cian was angry with me. Maybe even done with me. And I’d tried to fix it, but there was nothing else I could do. I wasn’t going to bother him while he was dealing with family stuff. I’d already made that mistake. I’d already pushed my shit onto him when he didn’t have any room for more.

I sobbed angrily as I showered, letting the hot water muffle the sound and wash my face clean. When I was finally done, I dried off and wrapped a towel around myself, my headthrobbing. I was going to crawl into my bed and pass out. I could deal with everything in the morning.

I stumbled to a stop when I found Cian standing at the foot of my bed.

“Lou let me in,” he said, his eyes on my face.

“Why are you here?”

“Noel said you came lookin’ for me at the house and you were upset.”

“I told them not to call you.”

“Why?”

“Because you were at the property dealing with family stuff.”

“So?”

“So, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Cian let out a long breath. “Why’d you come to the house?”

I tightened the towel around me and shifted a little, feeling raw and exposed. Everything I’d wanted to say to him had gotten lost somewhere between the drive home and the scalding shower. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was tangled in the memory of him relaying how I’d pushed him away and pulled him back, the frustration and disbelief in his voice when he’d asked me what the hell I was doing.

“I hurt you,” I murmured. “I wanted to apologize.”

He watched me for a moment. “Okay.”

“I love you,” I choked out, my nose stinging with tears. “I wanted to say that, too.”

“I can’t keep doin’ it, My,” he said softly. “I’d crawl over broken fuckin’ glass for you, but I can’t keep doin’ this shit where you disappear on me any time you’re pissed off.”

“I won’t,” I replied quickly.

He looked at me in disbelief.

“I didn’t—” I cleared my throat. “I didn’t realize I was doing it. I thought, I don’t know, I thought that we were giving each other space. I thought that was what we were both doing.”

“I don’t want space.”

“I don’t either.” I shrugged and barely caught my towel as it started to slip.

Cian watched me for a long time, his blue eyes intent as they traced my face.

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