Chapter 10 #2
Hand to my stomach, I fight the sorrow. At what Sloane is getting that I never will. Never feel the flutter of kicks in my stomach or the movement of a baby twisting around. The joy of naming a child or the pain of delivery.
My hand drops and I swallow loudly. Having my own child would have been a gift, but if I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s that I’m selfish. I prayed to whatever God would listen for more time—to live. And I sacrificed my ability to conceive to do it.
If I had to do it again, I would.
But if anyone deserves to be a mother, it’s Sloane.
“Ease up, Col. I already have a doctor.”
“You go.” I take a step back, ignoring her cattiness and wrap my arms around my middle. “I have to finish up. I’ll meet you up there.”
“You better. I haven’t seen you in weeks. I need to spend time with my favorite sister.”
I shake my head, guilt consuming me. “Don’t say things like that. I promise, I’ll be there. Just wait.”
Thankfully, Dillon showed us all what we needed and let us go to break early. When I enter the café, it’s easy to find Sloane.
People openly gawk at her. She’s a flame, drawing everyone to her. It’s been like this our entire lives—our mother, included.
Eloise O’Brien was a miserable woman who hated being a parent.
She was the party-goer, the high society Irish woman who people flocked to—and she hated being chained to her children.
I was seven when she died of ovarian cancer, but I remember how she fought with Maeve, and how she couldn’t bother to take care of Briar.
She doted on Sloane because of the red hair, but me? All I got was her disdain.
She constantly reminded me I wasn’t the pretty daughter. “It’s a good thing you’re smart,” she used to say, winking over a glass of wine at dinner. “Otherwise, there would be no hope for you, Collins.”
I envy Sloane. For her beauty, her confidence and for our mother’s love.
She never gets physically ill when she sees her reflection in the mirror, and never has nightmares about what she endured. Or at the lack of guilt for doing such things.
Crossing the room, I take the vacant seat as she hands me green tea. I don’t drink coffee, as the stale smell reminds me too much of when I was sick.
It’s why the ER is so easy for me. I’m constantly moving, thinking, planning. I don’t have time to sit and drink coffee. I can put all my experience into helping me. Once my rotation is over, it’s where I planned to stay.
“That was fast,” she comments, putting her phone down. “Now that you’re here, you can fill me in. What’s new, how’s life, what’s happening at the house?”
I take a large gulp, burning my tongue. This is the new Sloane—who cares about the clan, who wants to make sure we’re okay. It’s Lex’s influence. “Well, Maeve is being a bitch,” I snap.
“Wow, it must be bad if you’re calling her names. Usually, that’s my job. What’d she do now?”
“Bruno sent a proposal.” I watch her confusion morph her pretty features. “For marriage. He’s threatening to marry me because of the stuff your husband did to him and what Maeve is doing now.”
“That fucking prick.” She seethes, grabbing her phone. Her fingers move angrily over the keys, too quick for me to track.
“What are you doing?”
“Texting Lex,” she says, not looking up. “Like hell is my sister marrying that man. Look what he did to Jaconda!”
“I know.” I take another sip, enjoying the grassy notes and the scalding heat.
At my tight tone, she glances up under thick eyelashes. “Maeve’s not entertaining it, is she?”
My bored face has her cursing again. “Of course, she is. That was stupid to think. Doesn’t she ever learn new tricks? Jesus, we’re not pawns for her to move around on the chessboard. We can’t be used like this.”
“You can’t,” I point out. “Not anymore. But if I recall, you two talked about why she gave you to Lex.” Unlike me.
Rolling her eyes, Sloane huffs. “Talk? Barely. She just said she did everything for us. But this? This isn’t for us. This is for the clan only. Giving you Bruno? He’s the absolute worst, Col. You can’t marry someone like that.”
“I know. And I’ve already come up with a solution.” My hands wrap around the cup, heat burning my palms, but it keeps me grounded in this conversation. “Maeve won’t marry me off if I’m with someone else.”
“Maybe.” My younger sister’s eyes narrow, a cat tracking prey. “Are you dating someone and you didn’t tell me?”
“Just know that you’ll probably hear all about it soon enough.” At least I assumed so. I needed to talk to Hayes and get our stories straight.
Would he agree? I’m not sure. That man lives to irritate me and get under my skin. It’d be just like him to say no and watch me be sold off.
I’ll have to entice him, make it worth it for him to be wrapped up into this insane plane. I just need to figure out what he wants.
That’s if I can find him.
Smiling like a pleased hellcat, Sloane nods once. “My devious big sister, my how times have changed. I like this side of you.”
It’s always been there. A side crafted of dark deeds and long nights under my father’s tutelage and it stayed—because I liked it.