Chapter 39 - Ciarán
thirty Nine-Ciarán
I hadn’t thought this shit through.
I’d overheard Jordin and Oak’s conversation last night. Thought I could sleep it off. I was wrong. Now it had me thinking.
If Oak said no, Jordin would leave him. And if she left him, what did that mean for me?
I wasn’t na?ve enough to think I could give her what Oak could.
I wasn’t the one she could build a life with—not the life she wanted.
I was the escape, the fantasy. And if Oak wasn’t in the picture, she’d find someone else.
Someone whole. Someone who could give her everything she wanted.
And I’d be out.
The thought made my stomach fucking hurt, and the static in my head multiplied. I couldn’t fucking lose her. She was the only good thing that had ever happened in my life. Even stardom didn’t give me the same feeling—the high of being with her.
I went looking for Oak.
He was in the living room, sitting on the edge of the couch with his head in his hands. He looked… broken. And for a moment, I felt a flicker of guilt. This was my fault, wasn’t it? I’d pushed her, encouraged her, made her believe she could have both of us.
But no. That wasn’t entirely true. Jordin had always known what the fuck she wanted. I’d just given her the words.
I stepped into the room. Oak didn’t look up, but I knew he’d heard me.
“We need to talk.”
He laughed, the sound coming out hollow. “What’s there to talk about? You already know what she wants. She’s saying fuck our marriage.”
“It’s not that simple,” I said, stepping closer. “And you know it.”
He finally looked up, his eyes dark and accusing. “What do you want, Ciarán? You got what you wanted, didn’t you? You got her.”
I shook my head. “It’s not about that. It’s about her. About what she needs. And if you say no—if you walk away—then what? You think she’s just going to settle for me? I’m not you, Oak. And I don’t need to be. But you and I both know I’m not the one she built dreams with.”
He stared at me, jaw tight, the anger simmering beneath the surface. “So what? You’re saying I should just… what? Share her? Let you have her?”
“I’m saying you need to think about what she said,” I replied, my voice steady. “For both of our good. Because if you don’t—if you let your pride get in the way—then she’s going to leave. And she’s not going to look back.”
He stood suddenly, fists clenched at his sides. “You think this is about pride?”
“I think you’re scared,” I said, holding his gaze. “And I get it. But this isn’t just about you. It’s about her. And if you love her—if you really love her—then you’ll do what’s best for her. Even if it’s not what you want.”
He took a step toward me, chest rising and falling hard. “You don’t get to tell me what’s best for her. You don’t get to act like you know her better than I do.”
“You keep missing the fucking point on purpose. I don’t know her like you know her—and you don’t know her like I know her. And if you don’t realize that, you’re going to lose her. And so am I.”
He took another step. His breath was ragged. For a second, I thought he was going to say something. Argue. Yell. Maybe even agree.
But then—without warning—he swung on me.
His fist connected with my jaw, the force sending me stumbling back. Pain exploded across my face, and I tasted blood.
I flexed my hand at my side. It had been a long fucking time since a motherfucker hit me and I didn’t beat their ass. But what the fuck would that look like to Jordin?
I gritted my teeth and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. My fingers came away red. I grilled him.
“Feel better?” I asked, my voice calm despite the throbbing in my jaw.
He didn’t answer. Just stood there, chest heaving, fists still tight.
Then, without a word, he turned and walked out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
I stood there, heart pounding, and let out a shaky breath. I didn’t know if I’d gotten through to him. I didn’t know if anything I’d said even mattered.
But I knew one thing for sure:
If Oak said no—if he walked away—then this was over.
For both of us.