Chapter 34 Oak
thirty Four-Oak
I knew something was off the second we pulled into the driveway of my temporary home.
The house was too big, too ostentatious, and completely devoid of her warmth.
We used to live in a three-bedroom ranch-style house because she didn’t do gaudy.
Didn’t do extravagant. She liked comfort—things that felt like home.
She didn’t even help me out of the car. She parked, got right out, and let me make my own way. I actually preferred that.
When I reached the front door, she was fidgeting with the keypad, avoiding my eyes as she unlocked it. I was suspicious, but I wasn’t about to blow up before I even got inside. Not yet. Maybe I was reading the entire situation wrong. Or maybe that singing motherfucker had bought her a house.
She pushed the door open, and it became abundantly clear: This wasn’t her house.
Standing in the middle of the living room, barefoot in black joggers and a fitted T-shirt, drinking from a glass of water, was Ciarán. He looked like he owned the place.
Because, apparently, he did. His awards were everywhere.
“Welcome home,” he said, flashing that same cocky smirk—the one he’d worn the night he showed me that video of him and Jordin.
I gripped the handle of my cane so tight my knuckles turned white. “No fucking way.”
I didn’t move from the doorway, still trying to process what was happening.
Jordin dropped her bags and rubbed the back of her neck, looking guilty as hell. “I was going to tell you,” she started, her voice hesitant.
“When?” I cut her off, my voice sharp. “After I walked in and found this motherfucker in your house? Because that’s when you’re telling me.” I wanted to shake her. This was cruel.
Ciarán chuckled, setting his glass down on a table. “Technically, our house,” he said easily. “But you’re welcome to stay.”
I stared at him, my jaw tightening so hard it ached. I turned back to Jordin, trying to keep my voice steady. “You live with him?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “So what, I’m just supposed to move in with you all? Live with you, listen to him fucking you from the next room?”
Ciarán held up his hands like he was trying to keep the peace. “Look, I get it. It’s weird. But I already had a guest room set up for you, and I made sure the gym had the right equipment for your rehab. We can make this work.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
He shrugged, completely unfazed. “Because she cares about you.” His voice was annoyingly even, like he wasn’t threatened at all. “And as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t hate you enough to ignore how she feels.”
I scoffed. “Could’ve fucking fooled me. This feels hateful.”
Jordin sighed and touched my arm lightly. “Just… come inside, Oak,” she said softly. “Please.”
I had no choice but to go in. I had plans to get my wife back. Now that I knew they lived together, I would have to work twice as hard to get between them. If I let her stay with him, he would win.
I could still feel the anger bubbling under my skin, but I gritted my teeth and stepped inside. This was not how I expected this to go.
Ciarán ran a hand through his beard and flashed a look at Jordin, who gave a slight nod. “Hey man, I just figured since we’re gonna be living under the same roof, it might as well be comfortable.” He gestured toward the hallway. “Let me show you around.”
Jordin excused herself.
Ciarán walked ahead, motioning for me to follow. “Your room’s down this way. It’s got a big-ass bed, a TV, and—” he paused, “—a lock on the door. Just in case you were worried about me sneaking in at night. I’ve got a feeling you’re reading this wrong. I’m not gay or bi. I don’t want you.”
I shot him a glare. “Funny.” But I was thinking it.
He grinned. “You were thinking it.”
He pushed open a door and stepped aside, letting me enter first.
I hated to admit it, but the room was nice. Big, with dark furniture, a massive bed, and a window overlooking the backyard.
“You’re all set up,” Ciarán said. “Bathroom’s attached. If you need anything, J’s upstairs with me. Tell Alexa to call her.”
I turned to face him fully, gripping my cane. “Why are you being nice to me?”
He tilted his head. “Because, like I said, she cares about you. And whether I like it or not, that means something.” He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Besides, it’s kinda fun watching you deal with this. Jordin was fucked up over what you did to her. This is payback.”
I took a slow breath, willing myself not to react. “You really think I’m just gonna accept this?”
Ciarán shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter what you accept, Oak. You’ll find a way to live with it.” He chuckled.
I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth might crack. This motherfucker was really enjoying this.
Jordin walked up behind me, placing a hesitant hand on my back. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I knew you wouldn’t come if I did, but I really want to be here for your recovery. Can we just… try to make this work? At least for now?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
Ciarán clapped a hand on my shoulder, all fake sympathy. “Look at it this way—you get a front-row seat to watch me take care of your wife.” His smirk widened. “How lucky are you?”
My grip tightened around the cane, knuckles whitening as I imagined the satisfying crack it would make against his skull. I tapped the cane once against the floor, just to keep from driving it straight into his smirking face.
Jordin knocked his hand away from me. “Stop it, Ci.”
This was gonna be hell.