“Can I help you, miss?”
I force a smile. My turn. A gray-haired gentleman with a bushy mustache smiles at me.
“Aye. One sausage roll, please.”
“Of course. Can I get you anything else?”
“Mmm… bit of soda bread. Please.”
My stomach growls. I can’t even remember the last thing I ate.
“Here you are,” he says, sliding them across the counter. “How are you today?”
Tears sting, fast and sharp.
My throat tightens. I swallow it down, wishing I could tell someone, but the town is full of gossips, and my parents have worked hard at keeping Bridget’s illness quiet.
“I’m good,” I lie, pretending to yawn to cover up my sudden surge of emotion. “You?”
“Good, good,” he says with a smile, before he moves on to the next customer.
But as I turn, my mind’s no longer on Bridget but on the whispers circling the room. The shiny black car that purrs by the shop, drawing every eye.
Everyone’s talking about the McCarthys.
The goddamnMcCarthys.
Darragh frowns. “They’re not enemies of your family. They’re just… bullies.”
“They are enemies,” I snap—too sharply. I make myself stop. Because if I keep talking, I’ll slip. I’ll become that same awkward, gangly girl I was back at St. Albert’s.
The target.
The joke.
The older ones, Torin, Seamus, and Kyla graduated before me. Bronwyn was in Bridget’s class.
ButCavin…
I inhale through my nose and shake my head.
Cavin McCarthy is a bully, and I hope he fucking suffers.
The sting in my gut still flares when I remember. Every white tile in that bathroom I memorized, hiding because I didn’t want anyone to see me crying.
No one else has the power to drag me back to that helpless girl… except the McCarthys.
And Ihatethat we’re in a place where everyone worships them.
“People change, you know,” Darragh says, stuffing a hand into his pocket.
“Why are you suddenly best friends with the McCarthys? Because they’re mafia? Torin is in prison. Cavin was just released. Only bad people doing bad things go to prison. Why would people admire them for that?” I mutter, catching a glimpse of someone nearby. Watching. I lower my voice. “They were never your mates.”
“I—It’s just that…” Darragh shrugs and sighs. “Things aren’t always black and white, Erin. And you’re not the type to hate people.”
“I don’t hate them,” I lie.
And I know I’m lying.
