Page 43 of Heated Rivals
She couldn’t do it.
It was more than just the deadline bearing down on her. She couldn’t give James up. Not yet. Not until she absolutely had to.
* * *
Sloan drifted through the reception hall, a glass of white wine dangling from her fingers. She didn’t usually drink, but after the day with her mother, it was a necessary measure. She leaned against the wall, searching the people’s faces around her. Carrigan was back. Sheknewthat. But she wouldn’t be able to breathe easy until she actually laid eyes on her sister.
She’s got to stop disappearing like this. Everyone worries so much, and it throws everything into chaos.
The words fell flat, even in her head. The truth was she envied Carrigan her nights of freedom. They might be small in the grand scale of things, but they were more than Sloan could work up the courage to do for herself. Her only escape lay in the books populating the house’s library, and even those were cold comfort these days. Fantasy worlds were all well and good, but there always came the time when she had to put down the book and resume real life. She might face dragons and beautiful men andadventures beyond telling in those pages, but in her day-to-day life she was just a rabbit of a woman. Cillian used to tease her when they were little, saying she was afraid of her own shadow.
He’s not far off. Bitterness clawed up her throat, the taste acid on her tongue. If she was braver, she would have taken Teague’s offer to get her away. But the sad truth was that she didn’t know who she was if she wasn’t Sloan O’Malley, fifth child of Seamus and Aileen O’Malley, obedient daughter and… boring. So incredibly boring.I want more, I just don’t know what thatmoreis.
But it was a waste of time and energy to rail at her situation, because the truth was that she wasn’t ever going to change. She’d do what her father wanted and, when the time came, she’d marry who he picked for her, slowly withering away like a flower on a vine. At least the flower had a second chance at life when spring came around.
Sloan didn’t.
“Hey, squirt. You’re looking awfully dark and down over here in the shadows.” Cillian leaned against the wall next to her. “Didn’t you know that Teague has the market cornered on brooding? You can’t take that away from him the night before his wedding.”
She looked over to where the brother in question stood in the middle of a group of people, grinning down at his wife like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.No one’s ever going to—Oh my God, Cillian’s right. I’m sitting over here, brooding. She took a sip of her wine. “I was just thinking.”
“Thinking is all you ever do, squirt. You’ve got to get out in the world and live a little.”
She eyed his nearly empty drink—no doubtit wasn’t his first for the night. “I think you do enough living for both of us.”
“Not how it works.” He finished the pale amber liquid in his glass. “Life experience can’t be shared, not really. I could tell you stories…” He glanced at her. “Then again, you’re my little sister and I think those stories might burn your virgin ears.”
Heat crept up her neck and over her face. “There’s such a thing as too much information.”
“I couldn’t agree more. But my point stands—I could go out and do the craziest shit anyone’s ever seen, and it wouldn’t count any more in life experience foryouthan those books you like to read.”
She knew that. Lord, she knew that. But wishing for courage to do something else—somethingwild—with her life was a long way off from actually taking that first step todoit. Sloan might only be twenty-three, but she knew herself. She liked her quiet, safe, boring life. Maybe it wasn’t alwayssafesafe, but if she put herself out in the world, there were no guarantees of eventhat. “I’ll take it into consideration.”
“No, you won’t.” He snorted. “You’re saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear, but in reality you’ll be holed up in that nook in the library with a book, reading about someone else’s adventures.” He seemed to realize how harsh he sounded, because he sent her an apologetic look. “Sorry, squirt. If you can’t tell already, I’m not exactly good company tonight.”
She could. One benefit to always standing in the shadows was that she saw more than the average person. She’d known the second she got back from Connecticut that something about Cillian had changed. Hestill pasted on the carefree attitude when he had to, but that wasn’t the man he was anymore. Devlin’s death had changed him, just like it’d changed them all. She reached out and squeezed his arm. “It’ll be okay.”
His smile was mirthless. “Well, hell, squirt. I never pegged you for a liar.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
James spent the day in meetings. It was all shit he knew he’d been neglecting, but his talk with Lisa Marie had driven home just how many things he’d let slip through the cracks. It was time to change that. If he was going to run the Hallorans, he had to stop pussyfooting around andrunit.
By the time he got back to the house, it was dark and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. But he was confident that there were no more nasty surprises lurking as a result of Ricky’s actions while James wasn’t paying attention. As for Ricky…
It was time to do something about that, too.
Ten days was long enough to let him stew. He needed to fix this. Now.
He checked his phone as he walked through the door. Nothing. Not that he’d expected Carrigan to call him. She’d made it pretty damn clear that shehad a lot going on in the next few days, so there was no reason for the disappointment souring his stomach. He’d just spent the damn night with her. He couldn’t possibly miss her. But the thought of going another few days without seeing her again made the feeling in his stomach worse.
Pathetic. He could almost hear his old man’s voice in his head, letting him know just what Victor Halloran thought of his son getting twisted up over a woman, let alone an O’Malley woman.A distraction. That’s all she is. Nothing good will come of it.
He bypassed the kitchen—no point in eating until he dealt with his brother—and made his way downstairs. It was eerily quiet in the basement, the silence broken only by the occasional sound of the house settling. Even though this place wasn’t old, it still had the feeling of something tired and exhausted, the history of too many bad memories weighing it down.
I’d like to light a match and leave it to burn.
He unlocked the door to Ricky’s cell and walked in. His brother lounged on the rickety old bed, his head propped on his arms as he stared at the ceiling. “James.”
