Page 37 of Destroy Me
He jerked, denial shooting through him. “She didn’t do it for me.”
“Didn’t she?”
She’d said it herself, hadn’t she?
Siobhan tightened her grip, refusing to release him. “People don’t always go about things the way we want them to, but that doesn’t mean the motives aren’t pure in their minds. You don’t have to agree. But hanging on to the pain, refusing to forgive…that poisons you as sure as anything. It was poisoning me until I met Mack. Until I finally realized the truth. I see the way you look at Lyse, like you’re wanting to eat her up and tear her apart all at the same time. It’s making you act in ways you never would have ten years ago.”
“I’m not the same man I was ten years ago.” He’d seen too much, done too much to remain unchanged.
Have you ever treated another woman the way you’ve treated Lyse?
No, he hadn’t. Only she could draw out the bastard in him.
“No, you aren’t the same man, but the core doesn’t change.” Siobhan squeezed his hands. “No matter how much money your father had, he couldn’t stop the need for more—more money, more security. And no matter what you’ve been through, Fionn, you would never treat a woman the way you’re treating Lyse now. She’s different, and likely always has been for you.”
“She betrayed me.”
Siobhan tilted her head, the fall of her red hair shining as the morning sun fell across it. “Did she?”
He opened his mouth to respond, biting down on his tongue when Siobhan narrowed her eyes at him. “Be thinkin’ very carefully, son. Look deep down, past the anger and the hurt. Think about what she was going through, what she tried to do. When you look that deep, do you really see her betrayin’ you?”
“I—”
The glistening green of his mam’s eyes flashed a warning. He glanced away.
“What you’re holding on to is only hurting you, Fionn. Do you really want to keep drinking the poison until it kills the both of you?”
Chapter Seventeen
Mack’s study was upstairs, a small bedroom featuring light, creamy walls. He’d converted the space with a desk, bookshelf, and comfortable love seat. Lyse went straight to the computer, already pulling her laptop from its protective case. “Thanks, Mack.”
“So how are you planning to find clues to a ten-year-old disappearance?” Mack asked, grabbing a piece of bacon from his plate.
His tone was curious, not condemning, so she took it at face value. “I plan to investigate. It’s what I do.”
“That and create fun little gadgets and security procedures to keep us safe. And seriously ruin a criminal’s day,” Deacon joked.
Lyse shrugged. “At least it’s aimed in the right direction.” Most of the time. Fionn would’ve been quick to jump on that little admission.
The weight of the silence in the room said her friends’ thoughts had headed in the same direction. It hurt, that silence.
She threw a look over her shoulder. Mack stood in the doorway, shoulder against the frame, frowning down at her as he chewed. She didn’t blame him. She’d lied to everyone she’d met since she’d arrived in Ireland; why would any of them believe she was trying to help? Especially with Fionn around.
“He’s a fecking idiot,” Mack finally said, surprising her.
“Who?”
He jerked his chin in the direction of the stairs. “Fionn.”
She suddenly found herself very interested in the cords she was untangling. “He has good reason to be.”
Deacon stopped his unpacking beside her, a snort escaping him. “He’s a stubborn jackass. Don’t give him credit for anything more than that.”
“Sir—”
Deacon turned to lean a hip against the desk. “What’s my name, Lyse?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. She’d always called himsir; it was the only title that reflected how much she respected him. “I—”
