Page 12 of Severed Rivalry
4
a bit feral
Sariah
Cian follows me to the living room where Renée is reclined on the sofa, her legs dangling over one arm. Her thumbs fly over her phone screen as the light from it washes her face in a blue glow.
“Renée, this is Cian.” I toss my gaze over my shoulder, but never make eye contact. “Ci, this is my daughter, Renée.”
“You sent the flowers?” My daughter looks away from her phone to study Cian.
“I did.”
“You knew they were her favorites.” It’s a statement, not a question.
The man behind me is close enough I can feel his heat, but he doesn’t touch me. “They were when I knew her a long time ago.”
Renée nods and returns her attention to her phone. Her eyes never stray from the device, but she manages to say, “We’re watchingHow to Train Your Dragon. Do you know it?”
The sharp inhale behind me tells me I’ve revealed more than I ever intended. “Yeah, but it’s been a while. How far are you into it?”
Renée sets the scene as I take the sofa next to her, leaving the chair for our guest. No way in hell is he piling on the sofa with my daughter, and he’s sure not snuggling up next to me.
Boundaries. I need boundaries.
With a blanket pulled over my body, I cuddle into the corner. My body is calm, but my mind most certainly is not.
Cian is here. My bruised lips are proof. He kissed me with a ferocity that wasn’t there before. I mean, there was always passion, lust, and love. But the kiss just now wasn’t a boy and girl fumbling and wishing and wanting.
It was a man who knows what he’s doing.
A man who kindled in me a spark that could set my body ablaze.
A man who gave me just enough that I’m desperate for more.
Renée hits play just as Cian slides to the floor with his back to the sofa, his long legs stretched out before him.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I’d entered a parallel universe. My daughter and the man who stole my heart forever ago laugh and gasp at the same moments, both having seen this movie more times than I can count. And that’s just when I was in the same room as them… individually, that is.
At one point when Toothless and Hiccup have a particularly poignant moment, Renée makes a comment under her breath. Cian turns to give her a fist bump. “You’re a cool chick. I like you.”
My heart stutters because I truly believe he means it.
Eventually his arm stretches out along the line of the sofa cushions, and we watch in companionable silence until the credits roll.
The whole time, my mind stays in the past or in an alternate future. I waiver between who we were as kids and who we could have been if life hadn’t happened.
I don’t regret Renée. She’s the best thing I’ve ever done. She’s the reason I keep fighting. If it comes down to it, I will sacrifice my happiness, every dime in the bank, and even my life to keep her safe.
I’ve done it. We’ve packed up, gone on the lam, started new schools, and picked up odd jobs. If we never pack and move again, it’ll be too soon. But that’s a pipe dream I can’t control.
How I got her… that I’ve come to accept. It was how I was raised, what I grew up knowing. Though I never expected to be truly free, I always dreamed I could be. I was determined to make it happen. And I did.
Only to be dragged back.
“Night, Cian. Night, Mom.” My daughter’s comment surprises me.
“Goodnight, Renée. I enjoyed meeting you. I hope I can crash movie night again soon.” Cian’s focus is on my daughter as she wanders away.
