Shattered Heart: The Donnellys, Book 3

by Dorothy F. Shaw

  Cyn crossed her arms and continued to her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes, slid off her jeans and climbed under the comforter. She was so tired—beyond exhausted—and she just wanted to sleep. Really fucking sleep, for as long as she could. And preferably without any nightmares plaguing her.

  Cyn curled around one of the pillows; the one Shane used, and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Shane opened Cyn’s garage and made his way into the house. Angie had called him and filled him in on the disastrous dinner date she’d had with Cyn. Things were getting worse and Shane was running out of ideas and time. “Cyn?” he called out as he moved from the kitchen toward the living room.

  She wasn’t in there, but Shane hadn’t expected her to be. The girl was still avoiding the room like the walls were smeared with the Bubonic plague, regardless of the fact that they were now coated with new paint. With a shake of his head, he made his way down the hall. “Cyn, where are ya?”

  “No! Nooooo!”

  “Cyn!” Shane ran down the short hall and barreled into her bedroom, but then skidded to a halt. What the… Cyn was beneath the covers, laying on her side, sleeping—her brow furrowed and face contorted with a stressed expression.

  “Get off me! No! Stop!” She swung one arm out and screamed.

  Dammit, she was having another nightmare. She’d had them nightly for the past three weeks. Most nights she didn’t wake up, but others, she’d wake, crying and holding on to him for dear life. In the mornings when he’d tried to talk to her about them, she refused to discuss it, claiming she didn’t remember having any bad dreams. It was more evidence that she really needed to get some help.

  Shane climbed onto the bed and took one of her hands in his. “Cyn? Honey, wake up.” She frowned and rolled to her back and Shane smoothed his palm up her arm, shaking her a bit. “Cyn?”

  “Hmm?” She threw her free arm over her face.

  “Sweetheart, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

  “What?” She peered at him from beneath her arm.

  Shane lay down next to her, and pulled her arm away from her face. “You were dreaming.”

  Cyn rolled toward him and yawned. “Was I talking in my sleep?”

  “Mhmm.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “Do you remember any of it?”

  She shook her head. “No.” She scooted closer. “What time is it?”

  “Almost nine thirty.” He rubbed her back. “How was dinner with Angie?”

  “Ugh, don’t ask.” She rolled away.

  Shane frowned. He wasn’t going to tell Cyn that Angie had called him. Instead he hoped Cyn might tell him what happened so maybe he could broach the subject of a therapist again…but he knew with that would come an argument between them. He didn’t want that either. “Too late.”

  She rose from the bed and pulled on her jeans. “Angie is a pain in my ass. And frankly, I’m tired of dealing with her shit.”

  “Wow.” He sat up. “That sounds pretty harsh, babe.”

  “Whatever. I don’t even care anymore.” She walked out of the room.

  Shane got to his feet and followed. With each step he took, he braced himself for the fight that he desperately wanted to avoid. The best way to do that was to just drop the subject, but for fuck’s sake, he couldn’t. When he reached the kitchen he leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “You should care, Cyn. She’s your sister. She loves you.”

  “Yeah, well.” She pulled a mug from the cabinet. “I’m making tea. Do you want some?”

  “Sure.” He moved to her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “Can I say something to you and maybe you just listen and not get mad?”

  She let out a sigh and rested her head back against his shoulder. “I’ll listen, but I can’t promise I won’t get mad.”

  Shane closed his eyes and pressed his nose to the side of her hair. Should he push the subject again? God, this was beyond hard, and scary and fucking nerve-wracking. Screw it. In the span of two seconds, Shane decided to drop the subject of counseling…for now, in favor of talking with her about her sister and maybe about staying—as in moving back to L.A. and also about the situation with his mother.

  “Well, spit it out?” Cyn stepped out of his embrace and went back to preparing their tea.

  A lump rose in his throat and Shane forced himself to swallow past it. “Yeah. All right.” Unsure of where to start, he stepped beside her and leaned a hip against the counter and just went with the only thing that came to mind. “Do you fight with Angie a lot?”

  “No. I fight with Mary. But lately, Angie has been on my nerves.”

  “Okay, so maybe you should call her and talk about it?”

  She filled the kettle with water. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “But…”

  “But what, Shane? Jesus, will you get to your point already.” She dropped the kettle, with a bit too much force, on the burner, then lit the flame.

  Shane ran his palm over his jaw and did his damnedest to not take her agitated tone personally. “I guess I just hate to see you and Angie not getting along.”

  “How about you not worry about it, okay?”

  “You said you’d listen and not get mad.”

  “No—” she stepped around him to the refrigerator, “—I said I would listen but that I couldn’t promise to not get mad. Regardless, I’m not mad.”

  “You sound mad.” He frowned. “You look mad too.”

  She set the carton of half and half on the counter, again with a bit too much force, especially for his liking. Shane cringed and braced himself for another lashing via her words. Cyn glared at him. “I am not fucking mad, but if you don’t get to your point, I’m definitely going to be.”

  “Cyn, look. I hate to see you fighting with your sister and I hate coming home to find you having yet another nightmare. I’m just worried about you, that’s all. Why is that such a bad thing?”

  “Home?” She let out a cold sounding laugh and brushed her hair away from her eyes. “This isn’t your home, Shane.”

  Ouch! That was a direct hit, and definitely stung. Shane closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “Yeah, about that.”

  “Yeah, about that is right. How about we discuss that, hmm?” The teakettle started to whistle. Cyn shut off the burner and poured the water into the waiting mugs. “You decide you’re finally heading back to Texas?”

  Shane cupped her elbow in his palm. “Come on now. I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “Who’s fighting? We’re just discussing.” She jerked her arm away and slid his mug toward him.

  Shane picked up the tea she’d prepared for him and watched her as she made her way to the table and took a seat. Again he drew in a deep breath in preparation for whatever might come out of Cyn’s mouth, then let his words fly. “I’ve been thinking about moving back here.”

  Cyn jerked her eyes back to Shane as she set her mug down on the table, hard, the hot tea sloshing over the sides. Some of it hit her fingertips but she ignored the burn from the liquid. “Why in the hell would you do that?”

  “Because…” He furrowed his brow and he tilted his head to the side. “Because I want to be with you, Cyn.”

  “Be with me, huh?” She grabbed a napkin from the holder and wiped up the spill. This was not happening. He’d lost his mind. That was the only acceptable explanation she could come up with. “What the hell makes you think I want that?”

  Shane stared at her, a hurt and confused expression in his eyes, and Cyn blocked it out—and blocked the slight sting of guilt that crept up the back of her neck. It didn’t matter. She was not doing this with him.

  What the fuck did he think, he was going to just move back to Los Angeles and what? Move in with her?

  No. No way. This was so not happening. He had to go. Like no
w.

  “I know you want it, Cyn. Don’t shovel any bullshit my way.” He shook his head. “I know you have feelings for me. Same as I have for you.”

  Cyn gritted her teeth and glared at him. Yup, he’d lost his ever-loving-motherfucking mind. She moved from the table and dumped out her tea in the sink. “Whatever feelings you think I have for you make no difference. Whether I actually have feelings for you or not makes no difference either. You can’t stay.”

  “Why’s that?” He set his mug on the counter as if nothing was wrong and that just fueled her anger more. How the hell was he so calm?

  Cyn braced her hands on the counter. “I don’t want you to stay.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “To hell with your bullshit. I don’t want this. I never said I wanted this.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t want a relationship. And if you recall, I’ve been trying to get you to leave for the past two damn weeks. But you don’t seem to listen to me, do you? Tell me, Shane, how does that make you any different from Carlos? He never listened to me either.”

  “Okay now, that was fucked up, Cyn. Really fucked up.” He straightened from his lean against the counter and pointed his finger at her. “Don’t you ever compare me to that fucking piece of shit again.” His tone was stone hard, and so were his eyes.

  Apparently she’d hit a nerve, and although she hesitated a moment, knowing she was way out of line, Cyn blew right on past the warning in his eyes and pressed on. “What the fuck ever. Doesn’t matter, not like you’re gonna listen anyway.”

  “I know you want this, Cyn. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me.”

  “I like fucking you. That’s it. There isn’t any more,” she lied and bile burned the back of her throat. Once again, Cyn pushed it down, blocking out the regret she knew in her gut she’d feel later. “Pretty much done with that too. In fact, the only thing I want from you now is for you to get your shit and get gone.”

  Shane reeled back as if she’d stabbed him. And Cyn guessed maybe she had. Flaying open his heart with her words was just as damaging as if she’d literally used a knife on him.

  He stared at her, and the mere few feet separating them felt more like a million miles. He blinked a couple of times before shaking his head. “All right, Cyn. You want me gone? I’m gone.”

  An ache bloomed in Cyn’s chest and her stomach folded in on itself. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and leveled her gaze on him. “Yes. I want you gone.”

  “Think about what you’re saying to me. If I walk out that door, there’s no coming back.”

  Cyn folded her arms over her middle in an effort to hold herself together. At that moment her insides felt like they were on her outsides, and she was literally raw and coming undone. Her heart screamed for her to stop, to tell him she was wrong and that she wanted him to stay, but her mind…her mind screamed louder. “I want you gone, Shane.”

  Shane nodded once, turned away and walked out of her kitchen.

  Oh God! Cyn doubled over, squeezed her eyes closed and let out a silent scream. What am I doing? Oh Jesus, fuck fuck fuck! She fell to her knees and covered her mouth with her palm as sobs wracked her body. She couldn’t stop. Why couldn’t she stop—the anger, the verbal tirades, all of it—she was losing her mind. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she sucked back the sound of each cry, keeping herself quiet.

  Her body shook and she rocked back and forth, cradling herself on the floor of her kitchen, begging God to make it all go away.

  To make her go away.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Shane gathered his things, stuffing them into his large duffel bag as fast as he could and walked out of Cyn’s house in a matter of minutes, slamming the door closed behind him. He had to get out of there before he lost his shit.

  Shane had never run from anything in his life, but he’d just run from Cyn. She’d cut into him so deeply, he couldn’t see anything but the bright shade of red coating everything in his line of sight. His heart ached—a physical pain like no other he’d ever felt in his life. Not even the injuries he’d sustained in battle had compared to what he was experiencing right then.

  He’d caught a glimpse of her on her knees, her face buried in her hands, in the kitchen as he passed by. The physical pull to go to her, pick her up and somehow figure out how to make this right between them had been an additional lancing he felt over every inch of his skin.

  But he couldn’t stop.

  He couldn’t pick her up.

  Shane couldn’t do anything but leave.

  Tossing his bag across the seats, he slid behind the wheel of his rental and started the engine. She didn’t want him—or so she said. It didn’t matter that he knew deep in her heart she did. The woman had made her choice, and done so loud and clear. One thing was for sure, Shane would not stay where he wasn’t wanted.

  This wasn’t much different from his mother…and that right there was something he had not seen coming. Cyn was nothing like his mother, or so he thought. Yet she’d rejected his love, just like his mother always had. It was a severe slap in the face. “What a fucking mess.”

  After shooting a quick text to Joey letting him know shit had just blown sky high between him and Cyn, Shane backed out of her driveway and drove away from the house. Thinking about his mother, he hadn’t even gotten to tell Cyn about the house, and the shit his mother was pulling on him. Shane slammed the butt of his hand on the steering wheel. “So stupid!” He’d thought to maybe keep the house, and hoped eventually, Cyn would move in with him. He’d thought, quite stupidly, that maybe she’d want to build a life with him. Build a home together. Maybe even a family. Goddammit, what a fool he was.

  He parked the SUV in front of Joey’s house and gripped the steering wheel tight in his palms. How was this happening? Shane couldn’t wrap his mind around it, but no matter what, he knew all roads led back to Carlos. That motherfucker was out on bail, awaiting his court appearance for the attack on Cyn. The desire to seek his ass out so Shane could extract a piece of it rumbled through him like a heartbeat.

  Shane looked up to see Joey standing on the front stoop. With a nod, he got out of the truck. Stepping up the walk, Joey met him halfway and took his bag from him. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

  “Don’t even mention it. I called Angie, she’s on her way.” Joey opened the front door.

  “Cyn won’t be happy about this.”

  “Tough shit. She either doesn’t need to know, or she can get over it.”

  Shane blew out a breath and took his bag from his best friend. “Okay then. Guest room again?”

  “Down the hall to your left.” Joey clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, Shane.”

  Shane nodded as he moved past Joey to the guest room, and swallowed down the boulder-sized lump that’d risen in his throat. He loved his best friend and his family. And he loved his best friend’s sister.

  Fuck… Fuuuuckkk!

  He dropped his bag and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Shane needed to book a flight home. He needed to get back to his life and try and figure out a way to let go of Cyn. He also needed to make a decision about his parents’ house. Letting his mother sell it felt like a huge betrayal of his father. Leaving Cyn felt like an equal one, but of his heart as well as hers. Shane laid there for long while, running scenarios through his mind until a soft knock on the door drew his attention. “Come in?”

  Angie poked her head in the door. “Hey.”

  He sat up. “Hey, Angie. You okay?”

  She shrugged. “Worried is all. Steph’s got a pot of coffee brewing. You want to come out to the kitchen with us?”

  “Yeah, I’m worried too.” Shane ran his hand over his head. “I’ll meet you out there.”

  “Okay. See you in a few.” Angie closed the door and Shane moved into the attached guest bath.

  Afte
r taking care of business, he splashed some cool water on his face. Fatigue weighed heavy on Shane’s body making every movement feel like he was trudging through quicksand. Jesus, he was tired, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t from lack of sleep, though there’d been plenty of that. With a sigh, Shane made his way to the kitchen. Joey and Angie were at the dining table, and Steph was in the pantry.

  Joey looked up. “You get a flight booked?”

  “Trying to run me off?” Shane moved to the coffee pot. “Way to make a dude feel welcome.”

  “Damn straight, brother. You eat me out of house and home.” Joey let out a chuckle. “Smart-ass.”

  Shane poured himself a cup of coffee. “Takes one to know one.”

  Angie let out a giggle and crossed her arms. “I love watching you two together. I was too young to witness your tirades when you were in high school, so this is all gold to me.”

  “Happy to be your entertainment tonight, Ang.” Shane joined them at the table and took a sip of the hot brew. “Especially considering how fun your dinner date was.”

  Steph emerged from the pantry. “I knew I had these. Cheesy creasy, you’d think I was hiding the vault combination to the Federal Reserve.” She set a bakery box of donuts in the center of the table.

  Joey’s eyes got big as saucers. “When did you buy these?” He flipped the lid open and pulled out a chocolate glazed donut.

  “Yesterday.” She looked to Angie. “And now you see why I hide them.”

  Angie retrieved a frosted sprinkled one and bit in. “Why?” she said around her mouthful.

  Steph rolled her eyes and laughed. “Oh lord, you’re no better.”

  Shane laughed and shook his head, and then looked away. His chest ached with an overwhelming feeling of loss. He didn’t want to be away from the only people who, since his father passed, felt like family to him. He hadn’t realized how much he had been missing them until he’d come back to town almost a month ago. He hadn’t realized how much he needed them either.

  Going home suddenly felt like a death sentence.