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Shattered Heart: The Donnellys, Book 3

Page 33

by Dorothy F. Shaw


  Yeah, Cyn might be stubborn, but no more than he was. And this time, she was even willing to let him have the last word if that’s what it took to get her ass out the door.

  Shane raced after Cyn as she headed for his front door. Jesus, she moved quickly when she was pissed. He caught her arm just as she rounded the corner from the hallway. “Slow your ass down.”

  She jerked her arm from his grasp. “Don’t you eeeeven try and tell me what to do. I’m so out of here, Shane Conlon!”

  “Dammit, Cyn. It’s late. Where the hell you gonna go?”

  She bent and yanked up the suitcase handle. “None of your business.”

  He stepped around her and stood in front of the door. “Like hell it’s not my business. Everything you do is my goddamn business.”

  Cyn fumbled with her purse. “Move, Shane. I’m leaving.”

  “I’m telling you, girl, you are so gonna be the fucking death of me.” He propped his hands on his hips. “You want to go so bad, you can go in the morning. I’ll even drive you to the airport. But you are not going anywhere tonight!”

  With a stone-hard glare, she stepped to him. “Well, I’m not staying here.”

  Heat spread over every inch of Shane’s skin at the sight of her all fired up and in his face. He raised his hand, ready to dive his fingers into the back of her hair, yank her head farther back and kiss her into submission—

  Cyn jerked back from him. “Don’t you dare! Shane Conlon, don’t you fucking dare touch me!”

  Shane cocked his head to the side and ran his palm over his jaw. Never had she jerked away from his touch, not in a way that made him believe she actually didn’t want him to touch her. “Look, I get that you’re pissed at me. I don’t like it, but I’ll deal with it. But I can’t let you leave tonight. Stay in the guest room if you feel more comfortable, but you’re not going anywhere until morning.”

  She glanced away from him and blew out a breath. “Please, just let me go.”

  “Can’t do that.” Shane crossed his arms. Still refusing to meet his gaze, Cyn let go of her suitcase, raised her hand and wiped under one eye. Fuck, she was crying. He took a step toward her. “Cyn?”

  She raised her hand, warding him off. “Don’t.”

  Shane’s heart twisted and his gut flipped over. This had not gone the way he’d expected. Definitely not the way he’d practiced in his mind all evening. She really believed he didn’t love her, which was crazy. Cyn was his everything. “Come on, now. Don’t do this.”

  “I’m not the one who’s doing it. You are.” She turned away and headed back down the hall, pulling her suitcase behind her.

  Shane’s head fell forward and he blew out a breath, but flinched when he heard what he assumed was the guestroom door close with a slam. He walked down the hall and stopped in front of the door. Pausing a moment to listen, he heard nothing, then raised his hand to knock but thought better of it and stopped. She wouldn’t speak to him the rest of the night, he was sure of it.

  Shane rubbed his sternum. His heart felt like a lead weight in his chest and a dull throb had taken up residence behind his eyes. He hated fighting with her, and he hated how she talked to him when she was pissed. The woman knew how to throw a verbal punch for sure.

  Letting out a harsh breath, Shane made his way to his own bedroom and to his shower. He’d give her space tonight and in the morning, they’d discuss it. After shedding his clothes, Shane stepped under the hot spray. He’d make her see that this was for the best. But that it was only temporary. In a year, they’d be together. Cyn had to see it his way. There was no reason not to.

  Once Shane was done in the bathroom, he wandered to the living room and planted his ass on the sofa. With the lights off, he scrolled mindlessly through channels until he found something remotely interesting in hopes it might be enough to distract him from the fact that his girl was likely curled up in the guest bed, probably hating his guts.

  The knowledge that Cyn was under his roof and not in his bed and arms was not welcome and fueled the bitter taste in his mouth. Every primal male instinct he had was screaming at him to go scoop her up and put her where she belonged, yet his brain was working on overdrive to remind him of his decision.

  Shane jerked awake when the sound of a door closing echoed through his mind. He sat up and glanced at the clock. It was just after midnight. At some point he’d nodded off. Getting to his feet, Shane walked down the hall to the guest room. The door was open but the light was off. “Cyn?”

  He flipped on the light switch and found…a very empty room.

  Fuuuuckkk! Wheeling around, Shane headed for the front door. He threw it open, just in time to see a taxi pulling away from his house. He ran out to the front yard and into the street. “Cyn!”

  Shane watched the taillights as they got smaller and then ran back into the house in search of his phone. Pulling Cyn up in his contacts he hit the Call button and put the device to his ear. It rang twice before she sent him to voicemail. Great. “Cyn, don’t do this. Come on back, please? We need to talk it through.” Shane disconnected and tossed the cell on the counter.

  She was so goddamn stubborn. Blowing out a frustrated breath, he ran his hand over his head. Stubborn and insisting he was wrong. Shane’s gaze wandered over the countertop until it settled on the paperwork for his parents’ house. He gathered the now dry but wrinkled papers and stared down at them.

  Was he wrong?

  Shane flipped on the light in the kitchen and took a seat at the table. All he wanted was for Cyn to be happy. He turned through the pages. There was no doubt he could make her happy, and even though she’d said she was ready, Shane just needed her to be sure. He leaned back in his chair. She’d come to him—shown up at his door totally unexpected. She’d said she loved him and wanted a life with him…even with the issue of them living in different states.

  Shane stared down at the paperwork. The house…his house. What if… Shit!

  Fucking hell, he was wrong. He was so damn wrong it wasn’t even funny. Shane’s heart might’ve been in the right place, but he’d been too busy trying to do the right thing by her, he’d missed the obvious.

  In less than twenty-four hours since arriving on his doorstep, Cyn had been the woman he discovered in L.A., before everything went haywire due to the attack. Cyn was fully present and ready, and she was sure. Shane was just being too pigheaded to listen. Really listen.

  Jesus Christ, he needed to fix it, and he needed to fix it now.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Cyn had gotten home the day before and pretty much shut herself up in her home with far more ice cream than any human should be allowed to consume. Having spent the prior day and then all night crying her eyes out, she was beyond exhausted.

  After finally migrating to her bed from the couch, she hadn’t closed her eyes for more than five minutes, or maybe it was a couple of hours, when she heard a banging at her front door. It was probably Angie. Rolling out of bed, Cyn made her way to her door, peered through the peephole and froze.

  “Cyn?” More banging. “Come on. Let me in.” Then her cell started ringing. “I know you’re in there. I can hear your phone ringing from out here.” More banging and then the doorbell. “Cynthia!”

  Jesus Christ and all the Disciples, plus the prostitutes! Cyn pressed her forehead against the hard wood and squeezed her eyes closed. Why was he doing this? What the hell did he want? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

  More banging, and then her cell ringing again. “Cynthia Donnelly, you need to open this door rig—”

  Cyn jerked the door open. And there he was, fist mid-bang—looking all scruffy because he hadn’t shaved—and fine as hell. Dammit! “I’m not doing this with you.”

  “Doing what?” He grinned and barreled past her, somehow managing to plant a kiss on her cheek as he blew by. “C’mere. Need to show you something.”
r />   Cyn let out a resigned sigh and closed the front door. He’d gone into the kitchen and instead of following him she took a seat on the couch, pulled the throw blanket that’d been her companion for the last twenty-four hours from the edge, and wrapped it around herself.

  Barely a minute passed and he poked his head around the corner from the kitchen. “Cyn— Oh, hey. You’re in the living room?”

  “Yes, Shane. I’m in my living room.” She pulled the blanket tighter and stared down at the edges of it. “Look, I’m really tired, and honestly? I don’t have the energy to fight with you, so please, just say what you need to say and then go.”

  “You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you in the living room. Damn, babe, that’s just—”

  The endearments were killing her. The pride lacing his words was killing her too. And only made her love him more. Shane knew what a big deal it was that she was in the living room. The fact that he was praising her for it stung, making her already hurting heart ache more. “Shane, please.”

  He sat beside her. “Please what?”

  With her eyes focused on her lap, a tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped it away. She couldn’t look at him. Her insides felt like they were on her outsides again, all raw and vulnerable. She hated being this vulnerable. Hated the fact that despite all her efforts and willingness, things hadn’t worked out between them. Her picker might be broken, but it wasn’t broken when it came to picking Shane. He was a good man. Through and through.

  He just didn’t want her the way she wanted him. A person couldn’t make themselves feel what they didn’t feel. It sucked, but it was just the way it was. “Just…please.”

  She heard a rustling sound and then Shane placed a short stack of papers in her lap. “Take a look at these, please?”

  Cyn glanced at him before looking back to the paperwork. She picked up the wrinkled pile. “What are they?”

  “Just…read them.”

  “Okay, fine.” Blowing out a breath, Cyn wiped the tears from her cheeks and focused on the documents. There were plenty of legal terms among the words, but certain statements like, “Quit Claim Deed” and “Monetary settlement”, jumped right off the pages at her. “She isn’t even—” Cyn read on. “How can she just do this? Please tell me you’re not going to—” Cyn flipped to the last pages and blew out a relieved breath. “You haven’t signed them. Thank God. Wait. You’re not considering doing this, are you?”

  “Figuring that depends on you.”

  “How so?” She straightened the paperwork and handed it back to him. Shane gave her a small smile, melting her heart straight down to her toes, and of course Cyn had to stop herself from leaning forward and first touching her lips to that freaking dimple of his, then kissing his sweet mouth.

  Shane tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “On if you’d consider making it a home again. With me.”

  Cyn frowned. Had he just said what she thought he did? No, she must’ve heard him wrong. There was no way Shane Conlon was asking her to make a life with him. No way he’d changed his mind…not after. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You heard me, Cyn.” He stood but then knelt down in front of her and took one of her hands in his.

  “Shane. What the fuck are you doing? Get up.” Cyn’s vision blurred and her cheeks got wet as tears ran in a steady stream from her eyes.

  Was he insane…Oh God! Oh my God! Shane produced a small black velvet box from the pocket of his cargo pants and Cyn’s eyes went wide. Wider than she knew they already were. “Shane, oh my God, what are you doing?” Tears still streaming, she raised both hands and covered her mouth.

  Shane cracked open the box. “I was wrong yesterday. I should’ve listened to you and I didn’t. For that I am so sorry. I love you, Cyn. I want to spend my life with you, and I do not want to waste another second.” He removed the ring and took her left hand in his.

  “Shane!” She let out another sob before swiping at her cheeks.

  “Cynthia Rose Donnelly, will you be my wife? Will you make a home, and God willing, a family with me in my father’s house?” He held the platinum band with what looked to be a—holy shit—multiple-carat princess-cut solitaire at the tip of her ring finger.

  “Holy crap, that’s gorgeous! Are you crazy?”

  Shane shook his head. “Not at all.” He smiled. “I promise to love you till the day I die, Cyn, if you’ll have me.”

  How the hell was this happening? She couldn’t even process it. Just two nights ago he’d told her to go off and live her life…be single, and now he was on his knee with a ring—an unbelievably gorgeous ring—proposing marriage? Cyn jumped up and about knocked him over getting to her feet. “How did you go from sending me away to this? When the hell did you get that ring?” She pushed her hair away from her face and paced. “Please tell me what changed?”

  Shane got to his feet, ring still held between his fingertips, and sat on the couch. “Gonna be the death of me, girl. Telling ya.” He let out an exasperated sigh and smoothed his free hand over his short hair. “First off, I did not send you away. You snuck out like a thief in the night. Second, I realized after you skipped town, that I was wrong.”

  Cyn stopped short. “Seriously?” She crossed her arms but then flung them out to her sides. “Can you get any more perfect? I mean really!” She paced again.

  “Wait, what does that mean?”

  “It means, you cook, you clean. You’re endearingly tidy. You smell good all the goddamn time. Even when you’ve been working and should smell like male funk…no, not you. You smell like a bed of fucking roses.” Cyn clenched her fists, well aware she was wearing a path in the rug. “Not to mention the sex…but I gotta mention the sex. Fucking hell, it’s out of this world. I’m convinced I’m ruined forever. No one will ever live up to you, Shane. Bank on that.” She shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair as an all too familiar wave of lust rolled through her—as it always did when she thought about the sex she’d had with him. “And now you show up here and tell me you were wrong?” She stopped and glared at him. “Men don’t admit they’re wrong, Shane. Trust me on this, I grew up with too many of them. But not you, noooo. You’re all perfect and right, even when you’re wrong. I can’t even—and then!” Cyn pointed at him. “Christ Almighty, then with that perfect ring, you get on one knee. I don’t even know what to do with you.”

  “How about you be my wife?” He held the ring up.

  Heat raced through Cyn’s body and she dropped her hand as those six little words he just spoke sewed her heart right back together. She swallowed, and then licked her lips. He was serious. Totally fucking serious. Cyn blinked. This was happening. “When the hell did you get that thing?”

  Shane stood and moved in front of her. “Yesterday. Sincere ask. Yes or no, Cynthia.”

  His voice was low; the gravelly tone vibrated over her skin and arrowed right between her legs. She gazed up at him. “You’re sure?”

  “One hundred percent.” He took her left hand in his again and paused, ring hovering above her finger.

  Cyn glanced down at it and then back to his eyes. Yes! On a complete overload of the feels, Cyn couldn’t speak, but Shane could read her mind, right? Yeah, right. Freak. Giving herself a mental slapping, she rose up and pressed her lips to his. Shane gripped her hand as he delved his tongue into her mouth and slid the ring on her finger.

  She felt the cool of the metal on her skin and was amazed it fit so perfectly. But then again, it was Shane, of course it fit. He’d probably measured her finger while she was asleep weeks ago… She pulled from his lips and glanced at her finger. “Good, because I’m sure too.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Bet your sweet ass it is.” She smiled, gazing at him, and pressed her lips to his again.

  Shane wrapped his arms around her waist and raised her off the floor. God help
her, this man…she’d never get enough of him. After what felt like forever, but never long enough, Shane broke the kiss and set her down on her feet. He cupped her cheeks in his big hands and his gaze wandered over her face. And Cyn felt every moment of it as a physical touch. She also saw the love in his eyes—saw it as clear as the moon shone on a cloudless night.

  “Told you it wouldn’t be enough.”

  Cyn frowned. “What wouldn’t be enough?”

  “One kiss. The night all of this started.” A smirk arched his lips.

  Cyn barked a laugh. “This is the one time I’ll let an ‘I told you so’ slide. Go for it, gloat all you want, Sergeant.”

  “You are sooo gonna be the death of me.” He smiled and traced her lips with the edge of his thumb. “But I love you, so you go right ahead.”

  “I love you too.” Cyn’s heart melted in her chest and her pulse kicked up about a thousand notches.

  Shane Conlon: Her grade- and high-school crush. Her unattainable dream. He was everything and then some. And he wanted her for always and forever. Guess he showed that picker of hers who was boss. As she gazed up at him and drowned in his endless eyes, Cyn knew she wanted Shane forever and always too, and it was likely she’d never stopped wanting him.

  Maybe she was just finding her way to him the whole time. All those bad choices had been because Shane would be coming for her, and as corny as it sounded, sometimes a girl had to kiss a few frogs to find her dream come true.

  Yeah, Shane Conlon was her dream come true. Shane was her everything.

  And he always would be.

  About the Author

  Dorothy F. Shaw lives in Arizona, where the weather is hot and the sunsets are always beautiful. She spends her days in the corporate world, and her nights with her Mac on her lap. Between her ever-open heart, her bright red hair and her many colorful tattoos, she truly lives and loves in Technicolor!

 

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