Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“Where you tormented me,” I finish in a whisper. “Where I spent every day terrified and hid in the library during lunch because it was the only place your friends wouldn’t find me.”
Where I learned what it felt like to be both invisible and hypervisible at the same time.
His hands grip the steering wheel so hard his knuckles go white. “Where they locked me in that bathroom,” I continue, the words spilling out now. I can’t stop them. “And you opened the door, and I thought for one stupid second that you were saving me. But you just stood there. And then you left. And I heard you laughing with them in the hallway while I was still shaking in the dark.”
“I didn’t—” He stops. Swallows hard. “Fuck. Erin, I didn’t laugh. I swear to Christ, I didn’t—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I wipe at my eyes angrily. “You didn’t stop them. You never stopped them.”
His phone rings again. Daire. Again. “I have to go,” he says quietly. “Seamus needs—”
“I know.” I force myself to breathe. “I know you have to go. But I can’t go there. I can’t walk through those halls with you like nothing happened. Like you didn’t make my life hell.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and something works in his jaw.
I draw in a breath and think. I don’t want to cower. I don’t want to hide. I need to face my fears.
“I can leave you in the car,” he says quietly.
“Alright.”
”For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For all of it. For what I did. For what I let happen. For making you afraid.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Sorry doesn’t undo years of hell. But it’s something, and it’s what I need.
I nod. “Thank you. Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “Aye. Just don’t make me go inside.”
“I won’t.” He gives me a curious look and drives to St. Albert’s.
Chapter Sixteen
Cavin
St. Albert’s looks the same as it always has—brick facade, the painted sign barely visible in the streetlight, the narrow alley beside it where we used to smoke after training. I can see lights on inside, hear raised voices, even from the car park.
I park and turn to her. She looks stunning in that dress—some emerald color that makes her skin glow, her hair done up in a way that makes me want to pull it down. “Stay here. I’ll be quick.”
“No.” Her voice is tight. “I changed my mind. I’ll… I’ll come in.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I said I’ll come in.” There’s that stubborn set to her jaw I’m starting to recognize. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Something in her tone makes my chest tight. But I nod and open my door. “Stay close to me, aye?”
Inside the school’s gym, it’s controlled chaos. Declan and Lorcan are holding two lads apart, both of them bloodied and still swearing at each other. There’s blood on the canvas, on the ropes.
“Cavin, thank Christ,” Declan says when he sees me. “This Quinn kid won’t—”
But I’m not listening. I’m watching Erin.
She’s frozen just inside the doorway, her eyes wide, scanning the space like she’s seeing ghosts. Her chest is rising and falling too fast.
“Erin?” I move toward her, instinctively putting myself between her and the others.
She blinks, then seems to come back to herself. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I said I’m fine.” But she’s trembling.
I turn to Declan. “Give me five minutes.”
“Cavin, the Quinn boy—”
“Five. Minutes.”
He reads something in my face and nods, hauling the fighters toward the back office.
I guide Erin to the side, away from the ring, away from prying eyes. My hand is on her lower back, and I can feel her shaking.
And suddenly I remember.
Fuck.
A memory surfaces—her, maybe fifteen years old, coming here to meet a friend after training. And me, showing off for the lads, seventeen and stupid and cruel.
What had I said? Something about her hair being a bird’s nest. Her clothes looking like her granny’s. The way she stood apart from everyone else, like she thought she was too good for the rest of us. Stupid comments I never thought about again and didn’t mean.
She heard them though.
I’d made the lads laugh. Made her face go red.
Made her cry.
And then there was the other time—the worst time—when she tried to tell one of the trainers that I was bullying younger kids for protection money, and I…
Christ, I’d humiliated her. Called her a snitch. Said no one would ever want her because she was too fucking perfect. That she should do everyone a favor and stay home where she belonged.
The lads had laughed and laughed. She’d run out, tears streaming down her face.
I remember feeling powerful in that moment. Like I’d won something.
Looking at her now, seeing the way she’s holding herself together by sheer will, seeing her standing in this place that clearly terrifies her—