I make a decision then.
“I have somewhere I have to go.”
I hate the way her face crumples, squaring herself to face her sister’s situation alone, and nods.
And I make a decision, right then. It’s time to take the fucking risk.
“I want to tell you what this is, and why I need to go. Tonight… I’ll be home after midnight. And I’m going to tell you everything.”
She nods. “Okay. And I’ll… tell you everything too.”
I kiss her forehead fiercely. “Stay strong, love.” I hold her to me. “I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Erin
He said…I love you. It made me cry all over again.
I didn’t say it back.
When I tell him I love him, I want him toknowthat I do. That when I tell him I love him, I’ll give everything I have for him. It isn’t something I can say lightly.
But I’m getting there. I know I am. I can’t even believe that a few months ago, I hated him, but now…
I will replay the image of him gently tucking the blanket in around Bridget on repeat, over and over, because I like the way I softened watching him with her.
Money doesn’t mean shite if I can’t use it to help the people I love.
I love you.
I love you.
I drive home with those thoughts circling through my mind. The city lights blur past my windows.Ciarán’s driving, and I barely register the route we’re taking while my brain replays everything. His confession. His tenderness with Bridget. The way he looked at me like I was the only solid thing in his collapsing world.
I send him a text because I’m curious.
What brought you to the hospital?
I can see he’s texting when the little dots appear, but they start and stop a few times. Finally, a brief message comes through.
Cavin
Let’s talk about that in person
Okay
I must have drifted off. Noises from downstairs wake me. When I reach the landing, he’s in the sitting room, standing by the window with a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring out at nothing. When I step through the doorway, he turns, and the raw vulnerability on his face makes my chest tighten.
He’s stripped to just a white tee that stretches across his back, but is still wearing the fitted trousers that hug his arse. Bridget wasn’t kidding. Heiseasy on the eyes.
“You woke up,” he says, voice rough.
He sets the glass down and runs both hands through his hair, a gesture I’ve come to recognize as his tell when he’s about to say something difficult. I love how it makes his hair stand up on end a bit, allboyish and disheveled. “We need to talk, love. Properly this time. No more keeping you in the dark.”
I settle onto the sofa, tucking one leg under me. “I’m listening.”
He paces for a moment, then stops, facing me fully. “Every month, on the nose, I’m tasked to pay a fuckin’ tribute. The money I’ve been hemorrhaging every month isn’t some business arrangement gone sideways. It’s extortion. Pure and simple.”
