Page 117 of Wicked Ruin

He holds my eyes before something goes out of him. I let go. He collapses into a chair.

Last time we got into a fight, we were fifteen years old, and it was over a girl. Seamus caught us, dragged us home, and gave us a lesson we didn’t forget, along with making us promise that we'd never fight again. We haven't fought since.

He’s my best mate.

“Erin's a fucking mess.”

Jesus. “Is she alright? Look, brother, I was going to tell you,” I say. “That night your da went to the hospital. Remember? I told you I had something to tell you.”

Cavin nods and runs a hand through his hair. He’s panting and sweating and looks half wrecked.

“Aye, I should’ve known. I should have known you were going to go for her.”

“Go for her? Christ, Cavin, I love her. I’d do anything for her.”

He frowns at me. “Except break off the fucking engagement with the people who are supposed to be putting us on the map.”

“I know. Tell me about it.”

Cavin exhales and looks to the ceiling. “She almost died, Declan. She spent years in a hospital bed. Erin gave up everything to keep her alive, and she finally gets to have a chance at a life. And now she's pregnant and alone, and she won't say anything to anyone because of who she is. That's what she does. She just carries it alone.”

“She isn't.” I say it again, harder. “She isn't alone. Christ, Cav, I went with her to the doctor. I’m in hourly contact with her guards.” My voice breaks.

Cavin looks at me. “Will you? Find a way?”

“I promise,” I say.

He stares at me.

“You said you love her.”

“I do.”

Cavin shakes his head.

“I don't know why Seamus allowed her to stay. It's not like him. He's not… merciful.” He blinks and looks away.

He doesn't know the promise I made, then. Good. “You sure you love her?”

“I do.”

Cavin sighs.

“Then what in the name of god are you going to do?”

I look at the broken glass on the floor, the pieces of it catching the light. I look at Cavin—the man who married Erin and inherited Bridget—who loves her like she is his sister, even though she's not.

“I'm not leaving her. Either of them.” I look up at him. “But I have to do this right, Cav. You know what's at stake. You know what happens if I pull this thread wrong. And so do I.”

Cavin stares at me for a long moment. The anger is still there. It would be for a while, I suppose. Finally, he stands.

“You're going to get this sorted? You're not going to make my wife suffer?”

“Of course not.”

He holds my gaze for another moment, then he nods once and moves toward the door. “Might want to ice that lip,” he says with a sigh. A peace offering.

“Aye.”