Page 32 of Tempting Irish

Chapter 8

Bree

Ignoring Owen’scaveman-like demand that I stay, I rush out of his suite, trying to contain the damn tears that burn my eyes. But when the elevator doors open, and Cillian steps out, dark brows drawn down when he sees me, the emotional dam inside mebursts.

The horrified look on Cillian’s face when he sees my tears would almost be humorous, if I didn’t have a large, Owen-sized hole in myheart.

“Feck,” Cillian mutters, rubbing the back of his neck and creating a barricade between me and the damn elevators. He glances down the hall towards Owen’s door, then back at me with a knowing look. “Ye allright?”

“Yeah, perfect,” I say with a sharp laugh, moving past him and stepping onto theelevator.

He stops the doors from shutting, and just gives me the look that says he really doesn’t want to know, but he feels obligated to ask. “Yesure?”

Who would have thought it would be Cillian Gallagher standing here trying to console me? The irony makes me snort and shake myhead.

“Fine,” I mutter, jamming my thumb at the number I want to go to, then wrapping my arms around mychest.

Cillian lets out a deep sigh before finally releasing his hold on thedoor.

When the doors shut, I close myeyes.

Anger.

Hurt.

They well inside mychest.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, my brain screams. Because, part of me thought that sleeping with Owen would finally cure me of the adolescent crush I had on the man. But, when has sex ever curedanything?

Thank God, nothinghappened.

But somethingdid.

We may not have had sex, but the connection was there.For one perfect moment, he wasmine.

And that thought, right there, is everything I’ve fought against my entirelife.

Stupid romantic fantasies that always led toheartbreak.

Owen’s words, the accusations, the distrust; they eat away at me. I know, in a way, I deserve them. But it doesn’t take the sting out of theblow.

Forget him, my brain demands, forcing the walls back up around my heart.Forget all ofthem.

I should never have come back. There’s nothing here for me. Just memories of people who never gave a crap about me, who forgot I even existed the minute I wasgone.

Owen was wrong when he said you had to have strong roots to survive. I’d done just fine on my own. My only weakness was thinking I needed them in the firstplace.

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