“What?” I finally choked out.
The sergeant repeated himself, his voice cold and matter-of-fact, like he was telling me my car had been towed, not that my father had hung himself in a fucking cell. I didn’t hear most of it. All I could think about was the last time I’d seen him—after he’d broken into my house. When I pointed a gun at his head.
I hung up without saying goodbye, my hands trembling as I set the phone down. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just sat there, staring at the water, feeling like I was drowning. It was too hot. I yanked my shirt over my head, dropped it on the ground, and pulled in a ragged breath.
Jordin found me like that an hour later. She’d been asleep. I don’t know how much time had passed. She walked out onto the patio, her hair messy from sleep, her eyes wide with concern.
“Ciarán?” she said softly, kneeling beside my chair. “Why aren’t you in bed? It’s three. What’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer. The words were stuck in my throat, like if I said them out loud, they’d become real.
“Ciarán,” she said again, her voice firmer. “Talk to me.”
“He’s dead,” I finally said. “My father. He killed himself. In jail.”
Her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly. For a moment, she just stared, waiting for me to take it back. When I didn’t, her hand reached out, fingers brushing my arm.
“Ciarán, I’m so sorry.” Her voice was soft, careful. Like she was talking to a child. That pissed me off.
I ripped my arm away.
She flinched, but I didn’t give a fuck. My head was too loud, my chest too tight. I was burning from the inside out.
She dropped her hand. “I care because I care about you,” she said, her voice rising. “I know this is hard, but you don’t have to push me away.”
“You think this is hard? My father hated me, Jordin. I hated him, and now he’s dead, and it’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said, firm. “You didn’t make him do this.”
“I might as well have!” The words exploded from me. I was on my feet, knocking the chair over behind me. The crash barely registered over the pounding in my ears. “I put him in that fucking jail! I pointed a gun at his head and told him to get out of my life! What the fuck did I think was gonna happen?”
Jordin’s eyes blazed. “You didn’t think he was going to kill himself! And so what if he did, Ciarán? He made his choices! You didn’t do this! You are not responsible for somebody else’s actions, and from what you’ve told me about him, he probably knew this would be the result! You blaming yourself doesn’t change shit!”
I gritted my teeth. “You don’t get it!” I roared, my voice shaking. “You don’t know what it’s like to hate someone and stillneed them! To wish they were dead and then feel like shit when they are!”
“You’re right, I don’t,” she shot back. “But I know what it’s like to lose someone, and I know what it’s like to feel alone. But you’re not alone, Ciarán. You have me. You have people who care about you. People that aren’t trying to rob you and pull you back into some bullshit.”
I didn’t respond. The anger and guilt were a whirlpool inside me. I turned and walked away, leaving her standing there as I stormed out.
I didn’t think. My car keys were in my hand before I realized it. The engine of my Dodge Charger roared to life, and I was gone, tires screeching.
The speedometer climbed. 80. 90. 100.
The road stretched out, dark and endless. Streetlights blurred into gold streaks. The hum of the engine drowned out everything.
It’s your fault. You did this. You killed him.
I gripped the wheel tighter, breath coming in short gasps. I didn’t know how long I drove, but eventually, the storm inside me calmed. The anger faded, leaving a hollow ache.
I pulled over, the car idling on the shoulder. My hands trembled as I let go of the wheel. I stared out at the empty highway.
Why? Why can't I get a fucking break?
I turned the car around and headed back.
Jordin was waiting on the couch, arms wrapped around herself, eyes red. She looked up when I entered, sighing in relief.
“Ciarán,” she said softly, standing.
