Page 42 of Shattered Hearts
The remainder of the workday passes by in a blur. Walking home, I keep reminding myself he’s not my concern. I don’t like how easy worrying about Finn comes. This dynamic with him reawakened something inside me, something I put to bed years ago.
A deep and painful longing to…belong somewhere. To someone.
At first, I wanted to belong as a Brennan, which proved impossible.
My father is cold, busy, and gruff. My mother is meek and demure, never straying from the box she lives in. Until she vanished the night before her wedding, my sister was bright and obliging and did everything asked of her with a smile on her face.
I’m the one who didn’t fit in.
The curious, stubborn one who only colored outside the lines, who received no encouragement, infrequent table scraps of attention, and even less love.
Once I gave up on finding my place as a Brennan, my attention shifted to finding my place as a Gallagher. I did every odd job my father threw at me, doing everything in my power to be a good spy for him, to be an accurate and effective informant, an assetinstead of an encumbrance. But all my efforts came to nothing.
In the end, none of my merits as a person or as a King mattered. The greatest value I had to my father was as a bargaining chip.
No different than his arranging Harper’s marriage in the hopes that his grandson would one day run the Irish Kings, my father once traded me for wealth and power. He promised my hand in marriage to the heir of the Red Hill Mafia in exchange for an expansion deal that would have extended the Gallaghers’ reach and operations into Philadelphia.
I botched the deal, though. An act that led directly to my departure from the Gallagher family and the deterioration of their long-standing relationship with the Red Hill boys. Not to mention the death of my belief in love and relationships.
Another reason I need to keep my distance from Finn.
After what happened in the Red Hill fiasco, I vowed all future love in my life would come from books. I retired from dating. Forever. All my dreams of belonging somewhere or belonging with someone have died.
And I need them to stay dead.Being myself and belonging with other people at the same time is impossible.
Being myself leads to rejection. Meanwhile, belonging requires me to give up myself—my values, convictions, autonomy, safety, or all four.
Too much. I’ve given up too much over the years. I promised myself I’d never sacrificemeagain, but by agreeing to fill in Harper, I’ve betrayed myself.
I release a sigh. I wish I could have told my father to shove it, but protecting the Zhangs is more important.
My steps slow as I tromp up the staircase to my apartment door. There have only been two occasions, to my memory, where I mustered up the courage to stand firm at a critical moment. Once, when I told my father I was out for good. And the other time, when?—
Unease skitters down my spine.
My front door is unlocked, open, and not fully flush in the frame.
What are the odds it’s Harper?
Or maybe the Zhangs stopped by to leave some leftovers in my fridge, which they sometimes do on nights I work late. Except, no, I remember them saying they’d be gone tonight, visiting family.
My brain zigzags through possible scenarios while I push the door open.
Anxiety tolls through me. “I’m home!”
A crash comes from the den.
Cold, clammy surprise drips down my spine. There’s an overturned table in my hallway and the books from my shelf are strewn on the floor at the mouth of the living room.
How stupid could I be, waltzing into my ransacked apartment and announcing myself?
As I inch toward my den, the mace I keep in my purse is already in my hand. What I really need, though, is the gun I keep stashed beneath my mattress. I’ll have to face my attacker, stun them, and then dash to my room for?—
“Riley…” The slurring, unhinged voice groaning my name ices my blood.
I’d know that voice anywhere.
The air around me pulsates with horror and trauma as my worst nightmare comes to life.