My name's been on a lot of ugly things, Maeve, but it's never—not once—been on a broken promise.
Nothing free is free—that's been my whole religion. But maybe—maybe—some things are just given.
The door opens.
Lorcan stands there with his hands in his pockets and his face arranged in careful, pleasant neutral—a mask, I realize. I've learned his real smiles now, and this isn't one.
"The apartment's ready," he says. "Doorman's expecting you. Car's out front whenever you’re ready. Fridge is stocked—I had them get the cereal Oisin likes. The dinosaur one."
The dinosaur one. He knows which cereal my brother likes?
He starts to turn, then stops. His jaw tics.
"For the record," he says quietly, not quite looking at me, "I don't want this. I don’t want you to leave."
Chapter 22
Maeve
He's still standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, that careful neutral mask on his face, and I can see now that the mask isn't for him. It's for me. So I won't feel pressured. So the choice stays mine.
Even now, he's giving me the choice.
Falling. No handholds. No control at all.
I look at this man—this fiercely loyal, sometimes ridiculous, lethally dangerous man who bought dinosaur cereal and sang lullabies and let me go the moment I asked—and I make the bravest decision of my life. I swan-dive into a freefall.
"Lorcan."
"Yeah?"
"I need to say something, and I need you to not make a joke until I'm done."
His eyebrows lift. "That's asking a lot."
"Lorcan."
“Right. But first I want to say that Brianna confessed to what she told you. It was a lie, and her employment at O'Rourke's ended about an hour ago."
I stand up. My knees are shaking, and I let them shake, because apparently that's what falling feels like, and I'm done pretending I'm not mid-air.
"I don't care about Brianna. I know it was a lie. I always knew.” My arms want to cross, a defensive pose. I make them stay at my sides, open, undefended. "I still ran, and I couldn't understand why, and then your mother came in here and took me apart like a jigsaw puzzle.”
"She does that."
"I was afraid of letting go. Of asking for help. Lorcan, I was scared ofyou. Of trusting you. But “I don’twantto leave.” My voice cracks and I keep going anyway. "Is it too late? To change my mind. To stay."
"Too late." He says it flatly, like he's testing the words for structural defects. Then his hands come up and frame my face, his mask drops, and what's underneath is so raw it steals my breath. "Absolutely not. It will never, ever be too late. I love you. I fell in love with you the moment you threatened to slit my throat in my sleep."
And then he kisses me, and I kiss him back with everything I've got, pulling him down, no exits counted, no plan B, just falling and letting him catch me, because that's his job now.
Someone clears their throat. Loudly. Theatrically.
We break apart. Jamie is standing in the doorway with Oisin on his hip, wearing the expression of a boy who has witnessed a crime.
"Gross, you guys." He shifts Oisin higher. "Get a room."
"Thisisour room," Lorcan says.
