Page 78 of Stolen Rebel

“Rebel.” Darragh’s eyes dance with delight when our gazes collide. There’s a reason I touched him in front of his brother, and he knows it. He’s an absolute shit stirrer, hence using Liam’s nickname for me. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” The lie falls easily from my lips, but Sorcha’s eyeroll tells me I haven’t fooled her. “Anyone need a top-up?” I lift the coffee pot from the machine and offer it around.

Darragh chugs from his mug and holds it out in invitation. Oh, I like him a lot. Underneath it all, he’s loyal as fuck to his brothers, but he’s not above twisting the knife when he wants to wind someone up.

I brace my hand on Darragh’s shoulder again while I refill his mug, the heat from Liam’s glare warming my skin from a couple of feet away. “Anyone else? Liam?” I force a saccharine tone into my words and white-knuckle the handle, fighting the urge to pour steaming hot coffee into my ex-boyfriend’s crotch.

I don’t make eye contact with him, though, which Sorcha doesn’t miss. She tips her head to the side, her gaze dancing between me and Liam, a million questions in her eyes.

The air is tense, as though Liam’s geared up for a fight, expecting it, almost inviting it from the way his posture is straight, rigid, and poised. But I don’t give it to him, in fact, I just get nicer as Maeve comes into the room. “Breakfast, love?”

“Please, Maeve. I’m absolutely starving.”

Her face lights up like I’ve told her Santa’s coming early. “Sit yourself down, and I’ll bring you a feed fit for a queen.”

The tug of everyday warmth, normality, family and, damn it, even belonging pulls hard in my chest. A lump rises in my throat. How fucking stupid of me to think I might be inching my way inside this family, his family. I thought… What? What did I think? That we could maybe pick up where we left off now everything’s out in the open between us?

I almost laugh out loud.

That’s not my destiny. It would seem my path is be controlled, isolated, used as a fucking chess piece in whatever war games the Neanderthal menfolk deem necessary.

A bitter taste fills my mouth.

There’s no happily ever after for this Rebel. No family, no children, no place or people that feels like home.

Last night, when I put on the dress, invited Liam into my bed, I foolishly imagined what life might be like without the constant battle of flight-fight-freeze that consumes me every day.

And he doused those daydreams with ice cold water, and a side order of betrayal.

“I’d like a car today.”

All eyes are on me as I stir milk into my coffee.

“A car?” It’s Patrick who speaks first.

I look directly at him.

“Yes. I’d like to go out.” I sip my coffee. “I need to stretch my legs.”

Patrick holds eye contact, his intense irises brimming with curiosity. Does he think I’m going to run? To find Brian? To run Liam over with his car? Do I care what he thinks?

“No.” Liam’s snarl almost makes the mugs vibrate on the table.

Maeve, God help her, walks in as he spits the word out at me, a hot plate clutched in a tea towel in her hand. “Liam Mahoney, it’s not even seven o’clock. Could you let us all caffeinate before you throw a wobbler?” She clips him on the back of the head once she puts my plate in front of me. “Here you go, Erin, love. Eat up before it gets cold.”

I clear my throat. “Actually, Maeve, my name is Rowan.” I pick up my cutlery and cut off a piece of egg. “And I prefer my eggs to have a hard yolk, if that’s okay with you?”

Liam grunts, or snorts. I’m not sure what the sound that comes from him is. Can you make a victorious snort? Because it almost came across like a wordless “I fucking knew it.”

Her eyes sparkle. “Aye, so I hear, but until you tell me to call you something else, I figured I’d stick with Erin.” She pinches my cheek like I’m a child. “And Liam requested the soft yolks. Good for you for taking control. It’s nice to see you settling in a bit.”

My face heats. Her words are a barb to my heart, because that’s what it felt like, as though I was starting to settle in here, with these people. And, dare I say it, even making friends.

“You were saying, about a car?” Sorcha points her almond croissant at me from across the table as I shovel too-hot food into me, not giving a crap that it’s scalding the roof of my mouth. Maeve makes a fucking good fry.

I shrug. “Yeah. I want to go… shopping? Joy riding? Exploring? Whatever. I just want to go out.” I take a bite, taking my time to chew and swallow. “I haven’t been home in so long I’ve forgotten what it looks like.”

I haven’t. I remember every field, every country lane, every town within a fifty-mile radius, many of which Liam and I visited to stay out of his family’s sight when we were in the “keeping our relationship a secret” phase. Liam wanted to keep me away from his world, and I was happy to go along with it. Sneaking around is kind of hot.