Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 90919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Myla was in bed when I let myself into the room, the blankets pulled up to her chin. For a moment, I just stared.
She’d pulled her hair into a loose braid. I’d never seen her wear it like that before. It made the nape of her neck look so delicate and fragile.
Without a word, I stripped down and crawled in behind her. She wasn’t asleep, but she didn’t acknowledge me when I kissed her shoulder and wrapped my arm around her waist.
Neither of us spoke or slept for a long time, but at some point, I drifted into a fitful sleep.
When I woke up, she was gone.
Chapter 20
Myla
I didn’t sleep all night. Aunt Molly had given me ibuprofen for the pain and swelling so I’d been comfortable, and Cian’s big body had pressed in against my back, sheltering me.
I should’ve slept. My body needed it.
I just couldn’t seem to shut my mind off. The night played out over and over every time I shut my eyes. The man, Julian, had been scary and clearly unhinged. He would’ve hurt me. I’d done the right thing. Even the agents had told me that I’d done everything right—and I was pretty sure that wasn’t something they were supposed to say.
But I’d still been the reason that a man died.
Eventually, I climbed out of bed and made my way out to the living room. Grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, I wrapped it around me and went out on the front porch. The sun was rising as I curled up on a chair.
The air smelled fresh, like rain, and I inhaled deeply.
Everybody I knew had one moment, a small sliver of time, when things spun out of control and could’ve ended really badly. Now, I’d had mine. I would’ve happily stayed out of that particular club, but it was over.
The FBI may come to talk to me again, but I doubted it. From the way they’d spoken, they’d assumed that Julian Kitz would come to a bad end somehow, and I held little interest for them since I wasn’t connected to the organization they were trying to take down. There was no satisfaction in prosecuting a property manager who’d acted in self-defense.
Swallowing still hurt.
I wondered how Aoife was really doing now that I knew Richie was still alive somewhere. I couldn’t imagine being away from Cian, knowing that he was alive but never being able to contact him or know anything about his life. It must’ve been agony for her. It was strange that they hadn’t let him take her and Sean with him.
I watched the sun come up over the neighborhood, my chin on my knees.
I was still sitting in the same position when Cian came storming out of the house. He threw the door closed as he stomped onto the porch. He was moving so quickly that he bypassed the three porch steps, jumping from the porch to the ground. As he reached the driveway, he stopped abruptly, staring at where my car should’ve been.
“We left it at the property, remember?” I asked, making him spin toward me in surprise.
“What are you doin’ out here, baby?” he asked, walking toward me slowly.
“You thought I left,” I replied, watching the emotions cross his face.
“Thought it was a possibility,” he conceded.
“We don’t do that anymore,” I said softly. “Remember?”
Cian nodded.
“You have to trust me at some point.”
“I do.”
“You just ran out of the house like it was on fire.”
“I couldn’t find you.”
“But you weren’t scared.”
He paused. “No.”
“You thought I’d bailed.”
He nodded again.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I fucked up before.” He reached up and scratched his beard uncomfortably. “I shoulda told you.”
“I know.”
“Wouldn’t blame you—”
“I’m pissed,” I said with a sigh. “You should’ve fucking told me about Richie.”
“See that now.”
“You don’t have endless chances, Cian.”
“I get that.”
“But you probably have at least a couple more,” I said ruefully. “As long as they’re small things, like forgetting a date or clipping your toenails in bed or something.”
“That’s fuckin’ disgustin’.”
I smiled. “I considered it,” I confessed. “Leaving your ass in bed and taking off somewhere for a while.”
He just looked at me.
“It just didn’t hold any appeal.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to be without you,” I said. “Even when you’re being an idiot.”
“Thank the good Lord,” he mumbled. “I’m an idiot a lot.”
I let out a huff of laughter, and he smiled back.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered.
“Except back in the house,” he corrected, walking up the steps. He lifted me from the chair like it was nothing. “Jesus, you’re an ice cube.”
“It’s not that cold,” I argued, laying my head on his shoulder.
He brought me back into the bedroom and put me in bed, not even bothering to strip off the couch blanket before he threw the comforter over me.
I watched as he stripped back out of his clothes, dropping them on my vanity stool. He climbed back into bed in his boxers, pulling me against him.