I was scared of myself, of what I was feeling. I was scared of what I would’ve had to give up. Scared of what she’d have thought one day, waking up next to me.
I was scared, so I lied.
Nick O’Connor was scared. I’m ashamed to even think it, and thank God I didn’t say it out loud: Ryan would’ve used it against me until the day I died. Actually, I think he’d have it engraved on my tombstone.
But I wasn’t the only one who was scared. As much as Casey pretends to be tough and indifferent, I know her.
I know.
And as I tell my little brother – who should be ready to rip my balls off, but instead, is sitting here listening to me – the whole story, I realise that I never want to feel either of those things again.
I’ll never lie again. And I’ll never be scared again.
And neither will she – that’s for sure.
I’m an O’Connor, right?
This is my moment, my challenge. My match.
And I have to win.
25
Nick
Eight years earlier
“Your dad’ll actually kill you this time.”
Casey glares at me, twirling the keys to the gym around in her fingers. “I don’t think he’ll find out.”
“I think he’ll clock on pretty quickly when you turn up at home in this state.”
“I’m not that drunk. Not as drunk as you, anyway.”
“I know how to handle my alcohol.”
“And I know how to handle a lot of things, O’Connor.” Casey slides the key into the lock and steps inside to turn off the alarm. “Come on, we have to celebrate properly.”
“I thought we already were.”
“Mmm…not enough. We have to make this evening unforgettable.”
She motions for me to follow her and I do, because I’m incapable of saying no to her: especially when she looks at me like that, in that way that tells me she could eat me alive if she wanted to. And fuck, I’d let her. I’d let her do anything she wanted with me.
We pass the gym and head straight for the pool. Casey studies the keys, then finds the right one and inserts it into the door. It swings open, and she smirks at me, suggestively.
I can already feel that we’re going to end up in trouble.
She goes into the room next to the pool area, and I see her fiddle around with something. Suddenly, music is blaring out from the speakers.
This won’t end in trouble; we’re already in it.
“Right then, O’Connor,” she says, sliding off her shoes. “How are you feeling? Are you nervous, worried…excited…?” she lowers her voice for that last word, as she slips out of her jeans and leaves them in a pile on the floor.
Excited. Yep. That’s the right word.
“Tomorrow you’ll be on a plane, ready for a new life.”
