Shattered Heart: The Donnellys, Book 3 (24 page)

How funny. Maiya was an interesting lady for sure, and absolutely perfect for Ryan. “Okay, so…” Shane ran his palm over his stubbled jaw. “So she thinks her picker is broken and she decided to stay single for a year. Huh.”

“Until you.”

“I guess maybe I threw a wrench in her plan, right?”

“A big huge wrench. Big. Enormous!” She laughed. “I was supposed to do it with her. We’d made a pact.”

“But then I showed up.”

She flipped her hair off one shoulder. “Well, you showed up before we made the pact, but it didn’t matter.”

“Why didn’t it matter?”

“Because I guess it was…” she paused. “I guess after you two hooked up the night of the bachelorette party and again at the wedding.” She winked and Shane felt his face get hot and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, she told me all about it. That’s what we do.” She grinned. “Anyway, she’d said she wasn’t going to touch you again and start her moratorium. That’s when she asked me to be her wing man…or woman, rather.”

“But she did—” he cleared his throat again. Screw it. Again, no point in pretending things hadn’t happened just like Angie laid out. Shane might be a private guy, but this was Cyn’s sister so… “She did touch me again. Hasn’t stopped touching me, so I guess that plan didn’t work.”

“Right. So she went to plan B.” Angie sipped her coffee.

“Plan B?”

“Cyn figured she’d spend the time with you while you were here, you know because you were just too yummy to resist, and
then
when you went home, she’d do her year.”

Shane had to laugh. Yeah, he’d blown her plan to bits. “Okay, yeah. I get it. But, Angie, this doesn’t seem like something to keep from me. Why wouldn’t she just tell me?”

Angie shrugged one shoulder. “Hell if I know. Why does Cyn do anything these days? I mean, come on, she practically ate my face for dinner tonight. That’s not normal for her. With Mary, hell yes. Totally normal. But with me? It doesn’t happen.”

Shane didn’t get it. He leaned back in the seat and glanced around the room. It wasn’t a big deal that Cyn had wanted to remain single for a year. He actually thought it was a really good idea she had—of course, now that he was in her life it wasn’t necessary, not considering the chemistry between them and how well they got along, at least until the attack. Jesus, things had gotten really fucked up. “She needs therapy, Angie.”

“Ya think?” She dropped her feet to the floor. “Tell me something I don’t know, Shane. But she won’t go.”

“Honestly, I think she has PTSD. She’s displaying all the symptoms. Anger and lashing out at people, in a completely irrational way. She refuses to talk about the attack.” He got to his feet and stood in front of the picture window. “Hell, she won’t even go into the living room at her house.”

“Shit. What are we going to do? I mean, she’s not
crazy
crazy, she’s just a little fucked up right now—which anyone would be.”

“Of course.” Shane faced Angie. “Here’s the thing. Cyn, when in her right mind, wouldn’t have cared if I knew about her self-imposed year of being single.”

“Celibacy too.” Angie got to her feet.

He glanced at her. “Even more props to her for that. That’s a damn tall order, I imagine.” Shane cringed at the thought of her being with anyone else. Bile rose in his throat and he pushed it back down. “Yeah, ya know, not gonna even think about that, but here’s the deal: It’s only the stress of the attack and her inability to cope with what happened that made her freak out about something that was no big deal. It’s also what’s making her fight with everyone.”

“Even me.” Angie frowned.

“Even you, sweetheart.” Shane gave her arm a squeeze.

“Right, so what do we do now? I mean she won’t even discuss it with Mom.”

Shane tucked his hands in his back pockets and stared out of the window into the darkness of the backyard. He was out of ideas. And he was out of energy too. He’d tried, and he’d lost. “I don’t know, Angie. But I do know, it’s time for me to go home.”

“Shane, you can’t just leave.”

“I have to. Cyn can’t hear me, and I’ve run out of creative ways to say it. I can’t help her, she doesn’t want my help. I have to accept that. You probably should to.”

“Soooo, what, then? We just let her keep on this path of madness until she has some sort of mental breakdown?”

“I hope not. You were right, what you said before, about me loving Cyn.” Shane let his head fall forward and he rubbed his hands over his face. After let out a harsh breath, he shook his head and turned back to Angie. “I love her more than she knows, and I can’t stand that she’s going through this but I can’t help her, Ang.”

“Shane, you can’t leave. She needs you.” Tears streamed down Angie’s cheeks and Shane’s heart broke for the second time in one night.

Shane pulled her into an embrace. “Maybe she needs me to go. Maybe if I go, she’ll get some help.”

“What if that doesn’t work?”

Shane’s gut twisted with fear. Truth was, he wasn’t leaving because he thought it might cause Cyn to get some help, he was leaving because she’d sent him away. In addition he’d grown weary of the fight.

Hope had lost its spark within him. He didn’t know if Cyn would get the help she needed once he was gone. He didn’t know anything except the sharp ache of his broken heart and that the woman he knew he was meant to be with didn’t want him.

He stroked the back of Angie’s long hair and tried to figure out what to say to her. In the end…it wasn’t much, but it was all he had. “It’s going to be okay, Angela.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

C
yn stepped from the shower and toweled off. That day marked the third since she’d sent Shane away. Two nights without him beside her in bed, and the coming night would be the third. Two days without his scent, his lips, his touch and his body buried inside hers. Cyn braced her hands on the counter and stared into the sink. She’d heard through the old reliable family grapevine that he was still in town, but he had to be leaving soon, right?

Her gut clenched and her heart ached at the thought of him leaving. She blinked, trying to stave off the tears that seemed to be on ready standby and supply since he’d left—or rather, since she’d thrown him out. She probably needed to keep that statement accurate. Shane wouldn’t have left her…maybe. But Cyn sure made certain that would never happen.

Because she’d left him first.

A few tears escaped, and Cyn grabbed a tissue, blotted her cheeks and blew her nose. She cared about Shane, there was no denying that, and she didn’t want to leave things as they were—all ugly and unsorted. She would rather make peace and say goodbye to him in the right way.

Regardless of the fact that Cyn didn’t trust herself, therefore couldn’t trust Shane, the guy was still a nice one. And she’d known him her entire freaking life. He didn’t deserve what she’d dished out to him.

Though she looked like hell, thanks to her random crying jags, Cyn did her best to make herself presentable for public viewing. A dab of Preparation-H under the eyes and a generous amount of waterproof mascara was totally going to save her ass, and her eyes.

After finishing in the bathroom, she tugged on a pair of capri yoga pants, and a T-shirt—nothing too flattering. The last thing Cyn wanted was for Shane to think she was there to lure him back.

Because she wasn’t.

That would be stupid, and selfish.

Really fucking selfish.

With one last look in the mirror, she adjusted a stray hair and then made her way out the door.

The drive to Joey’s was quick enough, maybe quicker than she wanted. Cyn pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. Nervous energy bounced through her, and as gross as it was, boob-sweat was making its presence known. She pulled a tissue from her purse and shoved it between her breasts. The typical curse of having a large chest. “Jesus, it’s not even hot out!”

Cyn cringed, knowing full well her sweating had nothing to do with the heat, and everything to do with being nervous to see Shane. What if he didn’t want to speak to her? Like ever again? Christ, she’d made a huge mess.

A knock on her door window had Cyn jumping out of her skin. She screamed, clutched her chest, and looked over. Joey was standing there, hands raised in surrender. Cyn rolled her eyes and opened the door. “Jesus Christ, Joey! Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?”

Joey lowered his hands as he tilted his head to the side. “No, honey. Not really on my agenda today.”

Cyn stepped out of the Wrangler and slammed the door. “Well, you could’ve fooled me. You don’t just sneak up on a person like that. Christ.”

Joey crossed his arms. “Ya know, not for anything, but you’re sitting in my driveway, Cyn. I saw you pull in over five minutes ago and when you didn’t come to the door, I came out to see if you were okay. I even opened the garage, came out that way, which, since it’s right in front of you, I’m kinda surprised you didn’t notice. But I’m guessing you were what? Daydreaming?”

Cyn glanced over at the open garage door.
Holy shit.
How the hell had she not seen the garage door open? And five minutes? How had she been sitting in his driveway for five minutes? She was losing her freaking mind.

Or he was, which was entirely possible, considering the baby, and sleep deprivation, though Cyn had a feeling she was reaching pretty far on that one. “Doesn’t matter. You just startled me. Forget it.” She opened her driver’s door, reached in, grabbed her purse and slammed it again. “I came over to talk to Shane.”

“Not possible.”

“What do you mean,
not possible
?” she imitated his voice, adding a layer of sarcasm. “He and I have some stuff we need to settle, Joey. What? You his bodyguard now?” She moved past him.

He caught her arm. “Go easy, little sister.”

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.

* * * * *

S
hane 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 knew. 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.