Shattered Heart: The Donnellys, Book 3

by Dorothy F. Shaw

Cyn jerked away from him. “Don’t tell me to go easy. I’m plenty easy. And if you comment on that in any freaking perverse way so help me I will slap you in the back of the head.”

  Joey laughed. “Good one.” But then his expression turned serious. “Here’s the thing, you can’t talk to Shane because he left over two hours ago to catch his flight back to Texas. He’s probably about to take off, if not already in the air.” His face softened, the expression in his eyes one Cyn didn’t want to identify because it looked far too close to pity. “Sorry, honey.”

  He couldn’t have said what she just heard him say. No way. “What?”

  “Shane’s gone, honey.”

  Cyn let her purse go and it fell to the ground with a thud. “But he can’t be gone. I need to talk to him, Joey.”

  “You can call him in a couple of hours.”

  Wetness coated Cyn’s cheeks and her stomach twisted into a knot. “You don’t understand. We have stuff we need to settle.”

  Joey grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. The side of Cyn’s face hit his chest and his arms came around her. Joey squeezed her tight against him, patting her back. “Aw, sweetheart. It’s okay. Cyn, it’s gonna be okay, honey.”

  “But we have stuff we need to settle, Joey. He can’t be gone.”

  “Baby girl, I’m sorry.” Joey smoothed his big palm over the back of her head.

  Cyn let him hold her while she collected herself, or attempted to anyway, and tried to wrap her brain around the fact that Shane was gone. He was really gone, and it was her fault. The fucked-up thing was, she hadn’t gone there to cast bait, but she guessed a small part of her wouldn’t have turned him down if he’d tried to take a bite. Truth was, Cyn missed him. A lot—a whole fucking lot more than she’d even admitted to herself. And now he was gone.

  She stepped back from Joey and wiped her face. “It’s fine. Yeah, I’ll just call him.” She nodded as she picked up her purse and fished for another tissue. “I’m fine.”

  “Why don’t you come in, have some coffee.”

  “No.” She sniffled. “I’m fine.” Cyn glanced up at Joey and laughed but then started crying again. She was fine, just like she’d been saying for weeks to everyone, especially Shane: Completely fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional. Shane drilled that shit into her head until she wanted to vomit. And she had, verbally anyway. The more Cyn thought about it, the harder she laughed. But the tears kept flowing too.

  Joey stepped close again and placed his hands on her arms. “Cyn?”

  “What?” She pressed the tissue to her nose and giggled.

  “Honey, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Another laugh blurted out of her and she stepped back and doubled over, cradling her stomach and laughing like some sort of crazy person. Cyn shook her head, suspecting maybe that assessment wasn’t too far off from the truth, which was exactly the sobering thought she needed.

  She straightened and drew in a breath. “Totally fine.” She laughed again before regaining full composure. Cyn wiped under each eye and glanced at the tissue. Black streaks coated it. “Sonofabitch. So much for waterproof mascara, huh?” With a shrug, she balled up the used tissue, tossed it in her purse and retrieved another.

  “Honey, you’re kind of freaking me out.”

  “Yeah, well. Get in line…it starts behind me. I’m freaking myself out.”

  Joey frowned, but Cyn ignored it and moved to her Jeep. “Tell Steph hi and kiss Madi for me, okay?”

  “You sure you don’t want to come in? I don’t think you should be driving just yet.”

  “Nah, I’m good. All good. I’m fin— Fantastic. I’m fantastic.” She grinned and slid inside the front seat. If she never said the word fine again, it would be too soon. Who the hell knew a word could hold such emotional memory for fuck’s sake. Cyn tossed Joey a forced grin as she backed out of the driveway.

  Yeah, totally good. She was great. Just fucking outstanding. Not!

  Cyn drove, pretty much blindly, back home. And somewhere along the short trip, her heavy sadness morphed into anger. How could he go and not even tell her he was leaving? Cyn pulled into her garage.

  Hot agitation pulsed through her in time with her heartbeat. How in the hell does a person spend the last almost fucking month in someone’s bed—fucking and sleeping beside them—and just up and fucking leave without saying goodbye? “An asshole! That’s what an asshole does.”

  Cyn got out, closed the garage door and moved into the kitchen. She slammed her keys down on the counter and picked up a pile of mail. “Yep, total fucking dickhead.” With her mind a befuddled mess of everything—frustration, hurt, anger—including the kitchen sink, she tossed the mail aside and headed for her bedroom, but stopped short when the living room came into view.

  Cyn looked around the space. Once more she took in the new paint, rug and tables Shane had bought in an attempt to get her to feel comfortable in the room again. The guilt train screeched into the station, wheels ablaze. Assholes and dickheads didn’t do things like this for people. Not even people they cared about. Cyn dropped to her knees and one more time, tears fell, sobs wracking her body to the core. Fuck! Shane was gone. Really gone, and she’d done it. She’d sent him away.

  Cyn had lost the best thing she’d ever had all because of what? Stubborn pride? Ego?

  Or was it fear…yes, fear for sure. Fear of losing a fight that was nothing more than a fantasy in her mind. Carlos had clearly lost. The asshole was facing jail time—she hoped. But Cyn had lost too, because losing Shane wasn’t worth a fictional victory over Carlos.

  Nothing was worth losing the best thing that’d ever happened to her.

  * * * * *

  Shane stepped inside his small three-bedroom ranch house in Garland, Texas, and dropped his large duffel bag on the kitchen floor. Everything was just as he’d left it. Spotless, though a good dusting was in order. One skill all grunts possessed was how to clean. As a result, keeping a clean house was second nature to Shane.

  There was a pile of mail on the counter, thanks to his neighbor, and the few plants he had were amazingly still alive. They actually looked better than before he’d left. He’d definitely be picking up a couple cases of beer for Jesse and Iris in thanks. Maybe even have them over for a cookout.

  Shane grabbed his bag and headed to his bedroom. After unloading, he put everything back where it belonged and then wandered to the living room. Fucking hell the house was quiet—too quiet. He’d never noticed that before. Or at least it’d never bothered him before.

  Shane stretched out in his father’s old La-Z-Boy recliner, remote control in hand, debating whether or not to turn the television on. It would solve the quiet problem, but what he really wanted to hear instead was Cyn’s voice. Even if it was her bitching at him about nothing at all—because it wasn’t like he ever left the toilet seat up or socks on the floor. Or dirty dishes in the sink either. Of course, hearing her tell him how bad she wanted his body inside hers would be better. Toss in one of her bigger-than-life, bright smiles and he’d be in heaven.

  The dull emptiness that hadn’t left his chest since he left Cyn’s house grew deeper. Cyn was missing from him. He missed her—so fucking much his heart ached with it. She was the other half of him, and although Shane had been doing just goddamn fine before her, he didn’t quite know how to move forward without her.

  Shane placed the remote on the end table and picked up his cell. He hadn’t heard from her. But he hadn’t reached out either. Regret burned the back of his throat. He should’ve gone to say goodbye. Or at the very least called…sent a text even. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  It wasn’t pride; he knew how to admit when he was wrong. It was more that he’d had enough. He couldn’t take how she was treating him and somehow reaching out one last time felt like it might make things harder.

  He loved her…that much he kn
ew. He also knew she didn’t love him back, not the way he needed her to.

  Shane scrolled through some of the pics he had of them together and ones of her alone. God she was so beautiful. In his eyes, she was everything he never knew he wanted…and more. But she’d given up trying—though really, she hadn’t ever tried at all.

  It was over, and Shane had to accept that. He had to get on with his life. He had to take care of his business. Moreover, he had to get over Cyn. How he was going to do that was a fucking mystery.

  She’d torn his heart into a million pieces and there wasn’t enough thread in the world to stitch it back together. He’d survived a lot in his service to his country, taken his fair share of injuries too, and Shane knew he’d survive this too, but for the life of him he didn’t know how because this felt so much worse. This felt impossible.

  “Fuck love. And fuck this.” Shane tossed the phone aside and retrieved the remote. Turning on the TV, he kicked open the old recliner and flipped to whatever sports event he could find.

  Never again would he go down the love path.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Cyn crawled, in a state of absolute hysterics to the center of the living room. She collapsed on her side, to the rug Shane had bought for her. Tears, set on perma-flow, blinded her vision and streamed down her cheeks, wetting her face. She wept and wept, and when she thought there was nothing left, Cyn cried some more.

  Absolutely convinced she was losing her mind, she fought to catch her breath. A heavy weight had settled on her chest, and her mind reeled and tangled, twisting her thoughts into a mess of emotion…and through it all, the tears kept on.

  Thoughts of the night with Carlos played through her mind. The gun. And the moment she decided to take her chance, rushing him, and him hitting her so hard she saw stars.

  But then Shane was there…he’d come home. Thank Go— Home. Cyn covered her face and a cry erupted from the depths of her gut so raw her whole body arched off the floor. He’d come home to her and saved her. God help her, what had she done?

  “Shaaaaaaane! Oh God!”

  Agony filled every part of Cyn—body and soul. She rolled to her side, curling into a ball. She couldn’t breath, couldn’t think…all she could do was weep. Everything was pouring out of her. The anger, fear, agitation, regret and guilt…and she was powerless to stop it.

  “Cynthia? Oh my God, honey! What are you doing?”

  Cyn felt Angie’s hand on her shoulder and she jerked away from the touch.

  “Oh fuck,” Maiya said. “Chica, we’re here.”

  She felt another hand smooth over her hair and again she tried to jerk away from the tenderness, but one of them was at her back and the other in front of her. She didn’t deserve their care. She didn’t deserve anything, not after what she’d done and how she’d treated everyone these past weeks.

  “Let’s get her up and to her bed,” Maiya said.

  “Got it.” Angie placed her hand on Cyn’s back.

  “N…nooo—” Cyn sucked in a breath, “—j…j…juss le…eave m…mee.”

  Maiya smoothed Cyn hair back from her face. “No can do, chica. We’re getting you in bed, and we’re not leaving you until you come through this.”

  “On three?” Angie said.

  “Yep.”

  Cyn felt an arm slide beneath her from the front and one from the back and then she was righted, both her sister and Maiya forcing her to sit up. She opened her eyes to find Maiya squatted down in front of her. “Getting you to your feet, Cyn. It’d be great if you help a little, chica.”

  Cyn nodded and swallowed.

  “Good. Put your arms around me.” Maiya slid her hands around Cyn’s waist and Cyn felt Angie at her back.

  Cyn did what her sister-in-law asked as they both counted to three and then lifted. Cyn tried to help, but her legs felt like jelly, right along with her insides. With a grunt, she was pulled to her feet and Cyn leaned against Maiya.

  Maiya held her tight for a long moment. “I’ve got you, Cyn. We both got you, honey.”

  “W…whyy ar…rre yo…uu he…eere?”

  “Joey called us.” Angie stroked Cyn’s back. “He was worried. Guess he was right to be.”

  “Bbb…igg j…jjerkk.”

  “Yeah well, be glad he’s not here. Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you into bed.” Maiya pulled away and moved to Cyn’s side.

  Angie was at her other side and together they walked her to her bedroom. All the while, Cyn sobbed and sniffled. She’d sent him away. She loved him and she’d sent him away. Her body broke into chills and she shook all over, more than she already was. “I ff…fuckked uppp sssoo baddd.”

  “It happens.” Maiya steered them into Cyn’s bedroom. “It’s fixable, chica.”

  Angie stepped away and pulled the blankets back on Cyn’s bed as Maiya turned, and helped Cyn to sit. Maiya raised Cyn’s legs onto the bed, and Cyn lay down and curled around herself again.

  Chills wracked her body and her teeth chattered. She didn’t try to talk anymore; she could barely understand her own words. The situation wasn’t fixable. The expression on Shane’s face when she told him to leave flashed in her mind and Cyn squeezed her eyes closed and started crying again. The man had no reason to ever speak to her again, let alone forgive her for anything.

  “Angie, go get a rocks glass of Jameson.” Maiya climbed onto the bed.

  “Just what I was thinking. I’ll bring the bottle.”

  Cyn glanced up as Maiya stretched out next to her. “Cyn, I know what you’re thinking. I know you think it’s hopeless, but, honey, nothing is ever hopeless. If I learned anything, I learned that.”

  Cyn shook her head and wiped her cheek. She’d fucked this up so bad there was no way Maiya was right.

  “Aw, darlin, you’ll see.” She handed Cyn a tissue. “Blow your nose, sweetheart.”

  Cyn took the tissue and did her best, but her nose was so packed not much came out. Angie returned, glass in one hand—half full with the amber liquid—and the bottle of Jameson in the other. She handed the glass to Maiya before moving to the other side of the bed. Cyn felt the mattress dip and then Angie stretched out behind her.

  Maiya sat up and held the glass in front of Cyn. “Cyn, drink some of this, honey. We gotta get your nerves settled a bit.”

  Cyn rose on one arm and took the small glass from her sister-in-law—who’d become a best friend and as much of a sister to her as Angie and the rest of her blood sisters were. Cyn put the glass to her lips and sipped.

  “Yeah, how about a little more. Like maybe all of it.” Maiya raised a single brow.

  “We have a whole bottle so drink that down, sis.” Angie rubbed Cyn’s back.

  Cyn looked at Maiya through her blurry tear-filled eyes, nodded and drank down the remaining booze. The warmth of the whiskey coated her throat and tummy. Maiya took the glass and handed it to Angie. “Fill ’er up, Ang.”

  “At your service.”

  After a moment, Maiya had the glass in her hand again. “Another, but just a sip of this one.”

  Cyn was so desperate for a reprieve from her emotional hurricane, she took the glass and instead of sipping as Maiya had suggested, she tossed the whole thing back. The burn wasn’t as intense but was still effective. She handed the glass to Maiya, lay down on the pillow and closed her eyes.

  “That wasn’t a sip, but all righty then.” Maiya lay down too.

  Cyn felt her two sisters curl around her, both with an arm around her waist. The booze spread through her veins, smooth and steady, as Cyn focused on her breathing. Her head pounded and her heart raced, but as the booze did its job, her body and mind began to settle.

  A haze wrapped around her, and combined with the warmth of Maiya and Angie against her, Cyn’s body grew heavy and sleep took hold.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Cyn woke
alone in her bed, head and chest aching, along with a very heavy heart. Sitting up slowly, she grabbed a tissue from the box on her nightstand and blew her nose— And oww, that didn’t help the ache in the head thing. Her bedroom door was open and she could hear voices off in the distance. Assuming Angie and Maiya were still there, and having no idea what time it was, Cyn wiped her eyes, and headed for the bathroom.

  After she’d washed her face, she made a point to not look in the mirror—she knew she looked like death warmed over, but worse, she couldn’t stand the sight of her own face. Cyn was disgusted with herself for all that she’d done to everyone.

  Especially for what she’d done to Shane. He didn’t deserve it. And she didn’t deserve him.

  With weariness weighing heavy on her shoulders like a wet wool blanket, Cyn made her way to the kitchen. And stopped dead in her tracks. Holy shit—her mother was at the table, along with Angie, Mary, and Katie. Maiya and Stephanie were perched on the window seat.

  What the hell! Cyn’s kitchen wasn’t small by any stretch but Jesus, the amount of estrogen filling the room had to be pushing maximum overload and breaking some obscure laws of physics. The thought made Cyn smirk, before she pressed her fingers to her forehead and attempted to put a leash on the demon that always seemed to jump out of her mouth.

  Feeling like she’d gotten herself somewhat under control, she looked back up at the gaggle of women in her life. “Did someone die or is this when you sit me down and have some sort of an intervention?”

  Maiya let out a snort and Angie blurted a laugh. Cyn’s mother shot them both a look and then turned her gaze to Cyn. “No one has died. Thank God. Now, how are you feeling?”

  “Intervention it is then.” Cyn nodded and moved to the counter. Steph was there so she knew there was already a pot of coffee ready.

  “What makes you think we’re staging some sort of intervention?” Mary asked.

  “Because you brought out the big guns. Katie’s here.” Cyn pulled a mug from the cabinet.

  Katie chuckled and Cyn glanced at her oldest sister and gave her a small smile before pouring herself a coffee. After taking a sip of the hot brew, she turned and faced her family. “Honestly, Mom? I feel like I’ve been rode hard and put away wet.”