Page 180 of Severed Rivalry
We grabbed food at a twenty-four-hour diner, and Cian got us home by three. I plan to sleep for a month, never let Renée out of my sight, and stay close to Ci the entire time.
So, waking up without him next to me is an annoyance, one I plan to rectify immediately. I hit the bathroom, do my business, find my reflection as I’m washing my hands. Man, natural beauty is overrated. Puffiness, bags and dark circles, bruising, and pillowcase creases speckle my face. My hair is humidity-chic and that’s being kind.
I head to the kitchen to find Cian, hands pressed to the island, head staring at his feet, while Ren drinks coffee at a barstool.
I walk straight into Cian’s chest. “Morning, honey. Is Renée still asleep?”
“Checked on her thirty minutes ago. She’s over the every-hour check-ins, but she’s good.” He kisses the top of my head as he pulls me tighter to his side.
“Morning, Ren,” I offer in an effort not to be rude. “Twice in one week… we’re not wearing out our welcome, are we?”
“Nah, but I do need to get going.” He stands, shoves his stool under the island, and gives a meaningful look to Ci. “I’ll be in touch.”
Turning my face up, I look into his eyes. “I woke up alone.”
“Not my favorite either, Angel. The waking up alone or the leaving for you to.”
“Did you sleep at all?”
“A little. My body straight crashed since I had none the night before last. I’m running on fumes.”
“Then come back to bed.” I grab his hand and tug, pulling him down the hall to our bedroom.
Once we’re there, I fold into his side, a hand over his abs. “I’ve got Née. You sleep.”
“Thirty minutes until another pupil check. Ninety until her next round of meds. I have a timer set…” His last words drift off as if he didn’t have the energy to say them fully.
I slide his phone from his pocket, taking the volume way down.
I don’t miss the last text he sent.
Me: Been too long, Li. Check in please.
He sent it hours ago. There’s no reply in return.
While my mind is spinning, my body is warm and, frankly, I’m exhausted. I fall into a deep sleep not unlike yesterday’s with the meds. My body doesn’t want to move. My mind doesn’t care. I’m safe. I know this in my bones.
“Mom? Mom? Cian?”
I swim to the surface, fighting to find my voice. I reach out, all the while trying to speak but nothing works.
“You okay, Née? What time is it?” Cian rumbles quietly.
“Almost noon. I thought teenagers were supposed to sleep in and adults were supposed to complain about being up early.”
My daughter is mouthy in my dreams. My pillow shifts and swears, “Shit. I’m sorry. Did you get your meds?”
“Yeah. We’re out of blueberries, by the way. I added it to the list.”
“Angel, do you want breakfast?”
“It’s already lunchtime.”
Oh, the sass.
“Or lunch? I need to get up, but I don’t want to leave without telling you.”
I try, really I do, but sleep sucks me down deep and I let it.
