Page 146 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

JAINE

The O’Connell Home, Darling, New York

I hadmy hog shipped back to Rising in the end.

I’m not sure what I’ll do with it, but one thing’s for sure, I’ll never toss it on the scrap heap. It may be nothing more than a hunk of twisted metal now, but I’m sure I’ll find a use for it. The heart of my Softail is still in there somewhere, even if, like mine, it’s been badly crushed.

My mind drifts to Eoin. I knew he was pulling back, but I never expected to witness what I did.

Did he ever love me?

I suspect he did in his own arrogant way, and definitely more than he ever has anyone else, aside from himself, that is. I guess when you have selfish, narcissistic tendencies, it’s difficult to put anyone else’s needs ahead of your own for any length of time.

I’ve gone through our relationship line by line.

In many ways, Eoin was trying to change me into what he wanted me to be. He wanted to make me reliant and dependent. I’m neither of those two things. In the end, trying to please him would have resulted in me not being true to myself. He wanted me to slot into his life with as little disruption as possible simply because he refused to compromise.

Maybe you refused to compromise too, Jaine.

I refuse to cry over a cheater. My crushed heart will mend. It always does. If it can survive losing Ace, it can survive anything this life of ours has to throw at it.

I’m in the kitchen, lost in my thoughts, and staring at nothing in particular. The thing I miss most living here is windows. The safe space is below ground level, so there are none. Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped. Like I’m going to go stir-crazy stuck behind these four walls. I feel like I’m buried alive.

I guess, in some ways, I am.

I can’t stay here any longer. Not after everything that’s happened with Eoin and Irish. This is their family home, and I’ll never be family.

I need to find a safe space someplace else. I mean, let’s face it. This property didn’t offer much in the way of security when the attack took place. I’d have been just as secure hiding out in the purpose-built safe room at the rear of my own apartment. It’s not very large, but enough that, with a few alterations, Duke, the kids, and I could survive in there for a few days.

Maybe that’s the answer.

As much as Eoin was hemming me in, this place, this family, is doing exactly the same. I’ve been letting others make decisions for me because it’s been easier. If I allow that to continue, I’ll end up losing my identity. I’ll lose me.

I can’t allow that to happen.

I stare at my vibrating handset. Dylan. Does he know now, I wonder? Did his big brother tell him that he cheated on me? That I walked in on him just as he was about to fuck his PA over the desk that I gifted him?

Jealousy floods my veins.

It will ease up soon enough. Mr. Smug. Selfish. Pompous is no longer entitled to take up space in my head.

“Dylan.”

“Jaine, I need your urgent help.” He sounds worried. “I sent you an email the other day. Did you see it?”

I frown when I realize that I didn’t, or at least I haven’t yet. “Let me double-check. I had an issue with my inbox. Everything was showing as having been read. Jessie was looking into it for me.”

I return to the living space, sit down, open my laptop, and scroll through the most recent correspondence.

I frown when I see the email from Dylan. It deepens when I then see one from Roisin sent on the very same day. The attachments are identical. I know before I open the document that the content will be life-changing.

“What is it, Dylan?”

“Read it. It’s too complicated to explain.”

Dylan doesn’t disconnect the call. He stays on the line as I spend the next half hour skim-reading a contract that effectively has Irish signing his life away. Sophia gets everything, including shared custody of a child it would appear he has no option but to provide her with.

Reading between the lines, Luciano wants a Duster heir. In return, Padraig can have his singledom.

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