Page 44 of Wicked Ruin

“Is that because you don’t want it to?” he says, giving me a sideways glance.

Erin looks up from her laptop. She’s absolutely brilliant at most things, except when it comes to subtle social cues. “Why wouldn’t you want them to add up?” she asks, shaking her head. “Anything that looks off, we should look into. That’s just sense.”

Cavin’s jaw tightens. I love the bastard, but I want to fucking fight him right now. I sit heavily back at the table and try to rearrange my face so I don’t give myself away.

Fuck off, Cavin McCarthy. So fucking sue me for falling in love with a man who makes me feel human and alive.

Of course, I’m smart enough not to say that out loud. “I’m just saying, it’s something we need to look into.”

“Yes. Fine. But Seamus went into great detail on this one. After what happened with your parents, he’s not going to make a bad trade again.”

“Leave my parents out of this,” I snap before I can stop myself.

Erin blinks in surprise, and Cavin shuts the dishwasher with more force than necessary.

“What your parents did has nothing to do with you or your sister,” he says, softer now, which is somehow worse.

“Is that right? Then why am I such an outcast, Cavin? If it has nothing to do with me⁠—”

“Bridget.” Erin interrupts gently. “Leave it.”

Tears prick my eyes. I’m not usually so touchy. What’s wrong with me?

“No. I’m not going to be punished anymore for decisions our parents made.” I look at him directly. “I know they betrayed the McCarthys. That has nothing to do with me.”

“I know you don’t like it, Bridget, but it has everything to do with you,” Cavin says. His voice hasn’t risen, but there’s a weight to it that presses down. “You may not have made that decision, but you were wrapped up in every single thing that came after it—everything involving you, your sister, your parents. And it’s only because Seamus decided to be merciful that you’re standing in this kitchen.”

My jaw drops, and I’m on my feet.

“Are you threatening me, Cavin?”

“Please, sit down,” Erin says, shaking her head.

“For feck’s sake, Bridget,” Cavin says. He slams the cabinet and turns around to face me, his eyes like flint. “I’m not threatening you. I’m just saying, maybe decide to make some better decisions. Maybe not take certain things for granted.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fucking take things for granted,” I throw right back. “Maybe you shouldn’t⁠—”

A wave of nausea hits me so hard I gasp. I reach for the table with both hands, panting, perspiration breaking out across my forehead.

“What’s wrong?” Erin is on her feet immediately. Her face has gone pale. Cavin looks from her to me.

Nausea bends me in half.

“I’m going to be sick,” I say, and I run for the small bathroom just off the kitchen.

I kneel in front of the toilet and heave. When it’s over, the panting settles, and a growing dread moves through me.

Oh god.

It’s back.

It’s back… I know it is. I’m flaring up again, and I can’t stop the downward spiral, no matter how badly I want to.

I don’t know how I’m going to handle this.

“Call Dr. Rosenberg,” Erin says from the other side of the door, her voice tight. “Now.”

“I’m fine,” I call back. “Don’t overreact. It was probably something I ate.” I’m not going back to the doctor. Not now. Not yet.