It’s not forgiveness, but it’s not a brick wall either.
I draw in a shaky breath and tell him everything.
Not the version I’ve already given him in fragments and half-confessions, but the whole, ugly truth.
I tell him how trapped I felt, how Lorcan made it sound like there was no other option. How every time I thought about telling Cormac, I pictured Amber’s hospital room, the machines, and the look in Skye’s eyes if she learned she had lost a sister as well as a mother.
“I didn’t think I was choosing Lorcan over you. I thought I was choosing them, and…I thought I could fix it before you ever found out.” My voice breaks.
The crease between Cormac’s eyebrows deepens, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“I hated myself every time I lied to you,” I whisper. “Every single time. And I swear to you I will never keep something like that from you again.Ever.Even if it costs me everything.”
Cormac says nothing, and the silence is unbearable.
I would rather have him rage at me or throw things at the wall. Anything is better than him just sitting on the edge of the bed, looking like a man completely worn down and broken.
“All I’m asking for is a chance. You don’t have to forgive me. I just… I need to know if you’re even open to it. Open to the idea of us finding our way back.”
When Cormac finally speaks, his voice is rough with emotion.
He keeps his eyes down, focusing all of his attention on his words. “You were desperate.”
Tears run down my cheeks as I hear the pain in his voice. “Yes.”
His shoulders heave as he takes a deep breath before finally looking up at me, and for the first time in days, I see a flicker of the man I was falling for. “And desperate people do stupid things.”
My knees almost give out. “Yes.”
He looks away for a beat, lost in his own thoughts.
“I…can accept that,” he says slowly. “What I can’t promise is that I’ll be able to forget it.”
“I’m not asking you to,” I say quickly as I cling to the lifeline he’s offering me. “Just…don’t shut me out.”
Cormac considers my words for what feels like an eternity.
“I’ll try,” he says at last, and the emphasis he puts on the word makes it both a gift and a warning. “That’s all I’ve got right now.”
Relief crashes through me so hard I have to press my lips together to keep from sobbing.
But it’s short-lived because my phone starts incessantly buzzing, a brutal reminder of why we’re in this mess in the first place.
Cormac stiffens as I pull out my phone and glance at the screen.
“It’s him,” I say.
Cormac looks from me to the phone, and I see the doubt flicker in his eyes before he can hide it—a reminder that this isn’t over, and that it might never fully be.
“Answer it,” he says.
I nod before answering the call and putting it on speaker.
“Lorcan.”
“I was starting to think you’d forgotten where your priorities lie,” Lorcan snaps.
I glance over at Cormac to see he’s staring out the window with a faraway look in his eye.
