Page 29 of Malevolent Hearts
Needing to gather myself and wrangle my racing thoughts, I rise from the bed and head for the kitchen. Pulling my library door open, dreading the carnage that lies beyond, I register instantly that the mess I made earlier is gone and all the broken glass has been cleaned up.
A shuffle from behind me forces me to crane my neck and peer over my shoulder just in time to see Cadden reaching for me in his sleep. His entire body twists towards the centre of the bed. His arm wraps around my discarded pillow, drawing it to his chest. Unintelligible muffles fill the air until finally the room falls silent once more.
Seemingly in the clear, I tiptoe from the room and head towards the open-plan living room and kitchen. My feet carry me down the narrow hallway, but I decide to make a quick pitstop, veering towards the downstairs bathroom first. Once inside, my gaze snags on my reflection. My blonde hair is wild and unruly, sticking out in all directions, but that’s not what sets me off—that honour belongs to the dirty panda eyes that lead to the dried-up streams of mascara staining my cheeks.
Placing my palms on the edge of the sink, I lean closer to the mirror and take in my appearance, only to find I look as bad, if not worse than I feel. My red-rimmed bloodshot eyes are lifeless, sunken, and hollow, accentuating the pain trapped in their depths. As a whole, my appearance is gaunt, battle-worn from the days prior. Thankfully, I ran out of tears somewhere between falling apart in Cadden’s arms and now. Claiming one last look at how broken my reflection is, I push off the sink and continue my journey towards the kitchen.
Everything is exactly how we left it before the syndicate party. I look around and spy pieces of my brother everywhere. For the first time since learning about Liam’s death, I’m hit with a spark of emotion that’s not fucking sheer, utter sadness. I’m angry… so fucking angry he’s not here.
Steadying my hectic breaths, I finally allow myself to take in every detail like my life depends on it. When I step into the kitchen, the visions of early Friday come crashing down on me; memories of us getting ready to go to Saoirse’s introduction party together.
One of Liam’s white shirts hangs over the backrest of a kitchen stool, and when my fingertips sink into the soft cotton fabric, I recall him stressing over which one to wear.
“Jesus. They’re both white. They’re both shirts. Just pick one because I can guarantee Saoirse will not be able to tell the difference between them. She’ll be too busy trying to take it off you anyway.”
Liam holds up the two dress shirts, eyes ping-ponging back and forth as he tries to figure out which one will look better. “Can you stop being a bitch for two seconds and just pick a fucking shirt?”
Bringing my coffee to my painted lips, I peer over the rim of my slogan mug and eye the two options. Honestly, I can barely tell the difference between the two, but according to my detail-oriented brother, they’re chalk and cheese. “Go with the one on the left. I like the little detail on the collar.”
Registering my opinion, he shits all over it by hanging the one on the left over the back of the chair before pulling the one on the right over his head.
“Why do you always do the opposite of what I tell you to do? You do know that’s not how this is meant to work, right?”
Once he’s finished buttoning himself up, he slips onto a stool, reaches for the coffee I made him, and shoots me a smile I’m all too familiar with, mainly because it’s nearly identical to my own. “Don’t be offended, B. I value your opinion.”
“Joke’s on you, though. I knew you’d choose the one I didn’t pick, which is why I went with the left one. The right is by far the superior choice.” Lies.
“Is that the road you’re taking?”
Glaring at him through narrowed eyes, I poke my tongue out, earning myself one of my brother’s heartfelt laughs.
“So,” Liam says, changing the subject, “are you sure you don’t want a lift to the party with Saoirse, Rohan, and me?”
“As much as I’m intrigued by the little three-way you guys have going on, I do not want to be the fourth wheel. Especially when I’m related to both dicks in the equation. Besides, I already told Dad I’d take him up on his offer to ride with him and Mam.”
His face scrunches at the mention of our father, but that has become a regular occurrence lately, so I ignore it. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
My phone vibrates against the countertop, but I’m not quick enough to intercept my brother as he darts forward, too nosey for his own good. Thankfully, he can only see the beginning of the message on the lock screen because I’m not stupid enough to tell him my passcode.
“Beast?” He tosses his head back with a laugh. “That better be a book reference and not something sexual. As much as I like Cadden, I have no qualms about ripping his head off for deflowering my little sister.” He mocks a shiver. Reaching across the top of the counter, I extract my phone from his grasp.
There aren’t many people in the know about the parameters of my relationship with Cadden, but since I live with my brother and Cadden spends any free weekend he has here, Liam is one of them. “That ship has long sailed, brother.”
He gags, earning a tea towel to the head. “All jokes aside, why are you two still hiding your relationship? You’re set to get married at the end of the summer, once the second trials are complete. God forbid you enjoy spending time with your future husband.”
Logically, Liam is right. It shouldn’t be a big deal that Cadden and I have been spending time together, but unfortunately, it is. If Finn Connelly knew his son was a simp for his future wife, there’s no knowing what he’d do. Sure, he was the one who arranged our marriage, but he was also the one who warned us to keep things strictly business. Cadden and I were a transaction. Nothing more. Finn views love as a weakness, and weak is something he will not allow his only son to be. We were prohibited to fraternise before marriage. No personal feelings. No falling in love. Stupid? Maybe, but those were the conditions of our contract—the one we were forced to sign at the end of summer when we were sixteen.
The chances of him calling off our arrangement for accidentally falling in love are very fucking high. So, we keep our feelings buried in case Finn decides to swap me out for a piss-poor replacement bride. Then, once August rolls around and we finalise our vows, we’re free of all the secrets we keep. Divorce is not an option where the Emerald Isle Syndicate is concerned. Until the ink dries on our marriage certificate, we must play Finn’s game.
“It is what it is. Besides, it’s only for a few more months. Then I can tell Finn Connelly to get fucked by a prickly cactus.”
“Please let me be there for that conversation.”
With a shake of my head, I roll my eyes. “I’ll make sure you get backstage tickets to the show.”
I’m thrown from the memory by the harsh reality that my brother will never be present in my life again. My gaze falls on the two slogan coffee mugs next to the sink. I’d been in such a rush before the party, they never made it into the dishwasher. My eyes linger on the almost-matching slogans—and the changed pronoun to differentiate between each mug. Partners in crime. Unless we get caught, then he/she did it.