He was personable and funny.
But it was the way he looked at Jordin that undid me—with a kind of reverent awe, as if she single-handedly held the stars in place. I understood that feeling. I remembered the gravitational pull of her, the way my own world used to orbit around her smile.
What I didn’t understand was, if he was her present—if he was the man who shared her bed and her life in Miami—why was she still here, pouring her energy into me, into her past? Why was he letting her? It felt less like kindness and more like a special kind of torture, forcing me to witness the happiness I’d forfeited.
Ciarán strolled ahead of her, dressed in designer sweats and that smug-ass smirk.
“Michelle, how are you doing, beautiful?”
His voice was smooth as hell.
Michelle lit up. “I’m great,” she giggled, before excusing herself like she suddenly had somewhere to be.
He stopped in front of me. “You’re looking well today, old-timer.”
I ignored him. Rolled right past.
He chuckled and dropped into a chair behind me.
Jordin smiled softly. Too softly. “Hey, Oak.”
That pissed me off.
I glared at her, my jaw so tight it ached. My options in my head in response to their presence were stark. It was either say nothing, scream at the top of my lungs, or break down crying.
I didn’t have anything to say.
I wanted my old life back.
Maybe this—being broken—was my punishment for ruining it.
She frowned, glanced at Ciarán, then looked back at me and continued like I’d asked her a question. “I came to see you.”
“Well, you’ve seen me,” I said flatly. “You can go now.”
Ciarán let out a low chuckle, but his nostrils flared. “Don’t do that,” he warned me.
“What are you going to—” I started.
Jordin cut me off. “I just wanted to check on you.” She exhaled a breath.
She was trying hard not to snap at me.
She pitied me.
And that pissed me off more.
I ran my tongue over my teeth. “Yeah? You’re checking on me before you go fuck him?”
Her face dropped.
Good. Now she felt a fraction of what I did.
She turned without a word and stormed out.
Ciarán stepped forward. “You’re fucking up, bruh,” he said, shaking his head. “This shit’s already hard on her. Seeing you like this. She’s feeling guilty, and you’re punishing her on top of that—for standing by you?”
“I didn’t ask her to do anything for me. She doesn’t fucking care. Save it.”
