“I said I’m fine.” But she’s trembling.
I turn to Declan. “Give me five minutes.”
“Cavin, the Quinn boy?—”
“Five. Minutes.”
He reads something in my face and nods, hauling the fighters toward the back office.
I guide Erin to the side, away from the ring, away from prying eyes. My hand is on her lower back, and I can feel her shaking.
And suddenly I remember.
Fuck.
A memory surfaces—her, maybe fifteen years old, coming here to meet a friend after training. And me, showing off for the lads, seventeen and stupid andcruel.
What had I said? Something about her hair being a bird’s nest. Her clothes looking like her granny’s. The way she stood apart from everyone else, like she thought she was too good for the rest of us. Stupid comments I never thought about again and didn’t mean.
She heard them though.
I’d made the lads laugh. Made her face go red.
Made her cry.
And then there was the other time—the worst time—when she tried to tell one of the trainers that I was bullying younger kids for protection money, and I…
Christ, I’d humiliated her. Called her a snitch. Said no one would ever want her because she was too fucking perfect. That she should do everyone a favor and stay home where she belonged.
The lads had laughed and laughed. She’d run out, tears streaming down her face.
I remember feeling powerful in that moment. Like I’d won something.
Looking at her now, seeing the way she’s holding herself together by sheer will, seeing her standing in this place that clearly terrifies her?—
I realize what I actually won. Her hatred. Her fear. The right to make her feel small.
“Erin—” My voice comes out rough.
“It’s fine.” She’s blinking rapidly, trying not to cry. “It was a long time ago. I’m over it.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.” But a tear escapes, tracking down her cheek, and she swipes atit angrily. “God, I’m so stupid. It doesn’t even matter anymore. We were kids, and you were just?—”
“Just what? Just cruel?” I catch her hand before she can turn away. “Just a bastard who made you feel like shite for no reason except that I could?”
She finally looks at me, and the pain in her eyes nearly breaks me.
“You made me feel like nothing,” she whispers. “Like I was wrong. Like everything about me was wrong and everyone could see it, and I was just—just this pathetic girl who didn’t know how to be normal. Who tattled to make herself feel better or bigger, when I just—I just didn’t know any better. I was… a rule follower.” She takes a deep breath. “I like rules. They make me feel safe.”
Each word is a knife between my ribs.
“I was terrified to come here,” she continues, the words spilling out now like she’s been holding them in for years. “Terrified you’d see me and find some new way to—to prove I didn’t belong. And you always did. Every single time.” Her voice breaks. “You’d look at me like I was this, thisthingyou’d found under a rock, and you’d make sure everyone else saw it too.”
“Erin…”
“And the worst part?” Tears are streaming down her face now. “The worst part is, I started to believe you. Started to think maybe you were right. Maybe I really was too weird, too different, too much and not enough all at once. Maybe I deserved it.”
