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Darragh doesn’t reply as he leaves the room.
“Do you think he would actually hurt her?” I ask once he is gone, and Ronan shakes his head.
“Not in the way you are thinking. He needs to admit how he feels about Cian. Their cat-and-mouse games have gone on since we were teenagers, and honestly, they need to fuck and get it over with, for all our sakes.”
I laugh because it’s true. Cian isn’t the problem—the man would fuck anything that walks, and while admitting his feelings might be hard, I doubt he would shy away. Darragh, though, wanted to belong somewhere so badly he has closed himself off to the thought of having any feelings for his best friend. I don’t blame him—once sex is part of the equation, shit gets real even if you don’t want it to.
Look at us and Harper. We all knew it was just sex; she didn’t want more, and neither did we. Yet somehow here we are, not willing to let her go. Partly out of fear of what will happen to her if we do. With girls from Huntersville, assault tends to send them on a one-way path.
Fuck, why didn’t I think of that earlier? Harper has seen this same scenario play out time and time again, and now most of those women are on street corners, addicted to drugs or in prison.
I just hope we can show her no matter what she does, we will have her back. All we need is for her to see it in our actions; words mean absolutely fucking nothing to her unless we follow through.
Once Sullivan leaves, I go upstairs. I am filled with bitterness after Darragh literally dragged me back by my hair. My long hair has been a symbol of beauty for most of my life. Men comment on how beautiful it is, how they like to tangle their fingers between the silky strands. Well, today helped to cement the fact long hair is overrated.
I stare at myself in the mirror through my tears. Wiping them away is useless, and they cause my mascara to smudge and run. Picking up the scissors, I hold them between my fingers as the tears cascade down my face. I bring the metal blades beside my head and nestle them within my long blonde hair, poised around a thick chunk.
Snip
Now tell me my hair is beautiful.
Snip
Now wrap it around your fist.
Snip
Now drag me back against my will.
My golden locks fall around my feet. Fuck them all. Maybe now I will be so hideous I can walk away. Beauty led me here in the first place, but I no longer see the Harper everyone else does. I’m not beautiful, I’m not happy, I’m not fun loving. I’m ugly, used up, and broken.
“Oh shit,” comes a masculine voice. The hairs on my arms stand on end as his manic laughter fills the en suite.
I pivot and see Darragh leaning against the door frame, his arms across his chest and a huge fucking grin on his face.
“That’s a good look,” he says, amusement flashing in his eyes.
A strangled cry vibrates through my chest as I launch myself toward him, scissors in hand. He steps back, catching me around the wrist and spinning me so my back is flush with his front. The scissors that were in my hand are now pressed against my neck.
“Don’t tempt me, whore. We all know how I feel about you, but I don’t think killing you would end well for me. Get your ass dressed—we’re going to see Cian. I’m sure your pathetic ass will cheer him up.”
“What if I don’t want to?” I snap.
His chest rattles against me as he laughs. “It’s cute you think I was asking. You have ten minutes, or I will drag your ass downstairs—hair or no fucking hair.”
“No!”
He smirks at me. “You could have done this the easy way.”
Apparently, Darragh can drag me around without hair, and he pulls me into the walk-in closet. I don’t know why he bothers, as all my shit is in a plastic bag beside the bed. Ronan moved me into this room, since I live here now and need privacy, and he bought clothes to fill the space.
It’s laughable. What privacy do I have? My every move is monitored.
I balk at the closet, containing row upon row of women’s clothes on hangers, an array of shoes . . . you name it and I’m sure it’s in here.
Darragh chuckles at my reaction. “Your pussy must be good. Even I have to admit, I would have loved to see Celia’s face when she was asked to purchase clothes for the whore they have moved in. She isn’t your biggest fan.”
I scoff. “It’s obvious she just wants Cian’s cock,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
