“We need to talk,” were the first words that came out of my mouth when I found Hugh slumped on his bed later that morning. Clad in my school uniform, I eyed his matching one strewn across his bedroom floor and frowned. “You’re not going to school?”
A muffled “no,” sounded from beneath the duvet.
“But we have a match today.”
“The answer’s still no.”
“Shit, you’re really sick.” My brows shot up. “I thought you were faking it at lunch yesterday.”
“Whatever this is, can it wait?” he croaked out, pulling the covers down enough to look at me. “Because I’m in a real bad way here, lad.”
“No.” Closing the door behind me, I walked into his room and sank down on the foot of his bed. “It can’t.”
Hugh drew the covers back over his head and groaned. “Fuck my life.”
“I asked your sister to be my girlfriend,” I announced, deciding to get it out of the way right away. “I think it’s fairly obvious by now that I’m in love with her, Hugh.” Clearing my throat, I scratched my jaw before adding, “I’m serious about this, okay? I’m serious about her.”
I had been up all night going over my raging thoughts and what I might say to my oldest friend. Because as much as we liked to fight and banter, this was a delicate situation, and I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship. Hugh Biggs meant an awful lot to me, not as much as his sister clearly meant, but still. I needed him to be okay about this. I needed his approval. I needed him to know that I wasn’t fucking around anymore. That his sister wasn’t a game to me, and I was deadly serious.
I had been expecting violence, predicting it even, but when Hugh didn’t react, I started to feel real concern for whatever affliction he had come down with.
“Did you hear me, Hugh?”
“I heard you, Gibs.”
Hm. My brows furrowed in confusion. “And you don’t want to kill me?”
“I’m too fucking broken to kill you, lad.”
“Jesus.” Reaching for the covers, I pulled them back and studied his face. “Do you need a doctor?”
“No, because it’s my own fault.” Shaking his head, he pressed a hand to his forehead before asking, “What did Claire say when you asked her?”
“Well, she didn’t immediately reject me so I’m taking that as a solid win,” I offered with a sigh. “She’s taking some time to think it over.”
“Smart girl.”
“Very smart,” I agreed with a nod.
“Don’t break her heart, Gibs.”
My own one hammered hard when I heard his quiet request. “I won’t.”
“I mean it.” His brown eyes locked on mine. “If you’re serious about this, and I really fucking hope you are, then don’t let her down.”
“I am serious,” I vowed, swallowing deeply. “And I won’t let her down, Hugh.”
“Good,” he groaned, rolling onto his side. “Because I’m in no condition to kill you at the moment.”
“Duly noted.” Chuckling, I stood up and moved for the door. “Feel better soon, lad.”
“Omigod!” Claire yelped when I crashed into her in the landing, all blonde curls and flushed cheeks. “What are you … ”
On my best behavior, I smiled warmly before stepping aside for her towel-clad body to scamper back to her bedroom. “As you were, Claire-Bear.”
“You’re up early.”
“Oh.” Cheeks still flushed, she lingered in her bedroom doorway, eyeing me uncertainly. “Hey, are you driving to school this morning?” She licked her lips and flicked a wrist in the direction of her brother’s closed bedroom door. “Because I don’t know if Hugh’s going … ”
“I’ll be across the road when you’re ready,” I cut in and told her. “I’ll be waiting patiently, Claire-Bear.”
“Okay.” A small smile tipped her lips upwards, letting me know that she had caught on to the hidden meaning behind my words. “I promise not to keep you waiting too long.”
When I crossed the street and went into my house, I was already on full alert for potential run-ins with my mother’s asshole stepson. However, finding him in my room was neither something I had anticipated nor dealt with in a very long time.
The minute my eyes landed on Mark Allen sitting on my bed, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention.
Immediately, my skin broke out in a clammy, feverish sweat, and if it wasn’t for the fact that I was in his presence, I might have thought that I was coming down with whatever Hugh had. But I wasn’t the sick one here. “Get out of my room.”
“Still as messy as ever, I see.”
“I said get out of my room.”
“That’s not the way you’re supposed to greet your brother, Gibs,” he replied in a casual tone, completely unaffected by the tension I was emanating. “Didn’t Sadhbh teach you how to treat people by now?”
“You’re one to talk,” I shot back, remaining in the doorway. “You have a lot of fucking nerve to come in here.”
“And why’s that, Gibs?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You know why.”
“Nope.” Shaking his head, he rose to his feet and stretched. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” I bit out, feeling my entire body rack with tremors when I watched him approach me. “You know what you did.”
“And what did I do?”
“You know,” was all I could get out, and I fucking hated how small my voice sounded. Like I was seven years old again. Or eight, or nine, or ten, or even eleven. My breath hitched in my throat, and I had to force myself to not cower. “You know,” I strangled out, chest heaving. “And she did, too.”
“You’re mistaken,” he tried to fuck with my mind by saying. “Confusing nightmares with reality, I reckon.”
“No, I’m not.” I shook my head, feeling all kinds of fucked up and panicky. “I’m not confusing anything because I know what you did.” Swallowing deeply, I forced myself to choke out the words, “I remember.”
“Oh yeah?” Stopping just short of me, he folded his arms across his chest and smirked. “Prove it.”
Trembling from head to toe, I sidestepped his body and moved for my bed. “Actually, I can.”
“What’s that, Gibs? The illegible scrawl of a dunce child?” he goaded when I withdrew the crumpled-up letter from under my mattress. “Don’t tell me that an illiterate, dumb cunt like you actually kept a diary?” He laughed again before saying, “Jesus Christ, you did. You actually kept a diary like a little girl!” Humor and cruelty filled his features, sending me on a spiral back to a time in my life I didn’t dare revisit. “Looks like, despite my best efforts, I didn’t make a man out of you.”
“No, not me.” With trembling hands, I unfolded the note and held it up between us. “Her.”
A wave of recognition flickered in his eyes, and he took a step closer. “Is that Caoimhe’s handwriting?”
“It sure fucking is,” I spat, shaking violently. “Think I don’t have proof now?”
His eyes flashed with panic before he quickly slapped on a confident bravado. “If you haven’t shown anyone, and you clearly haven’t, it’s because you know nobody will believe it.” He narrowed his eyes. “Nobody will ever believe your truth over mine.”
“There’s only one truth, Mark,” I forced myself to stand my ground and say, while I gestured to the letter in my hand. “And it’s written in here.”
He watched me watch him for the longest moment before taking a step in my direction, attention flicking to the letter. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned, quickly tucking it away in my pocket. “I’m not seven years old anymore, asshole.”
“Why are you bringing all of this shit up again?” he tried to change the narrative by demanding. “It’s in the past, Gibs. It’s dead and buried.”
“Maybe for you,” I strangled out. “But I’m still living it every day.”
He rolled his eyes like I was being dramatic. Like my memories and my pain and his action didn’t ruin me on the daily.
“I want you gone,” I heard myself say.
“That’s not going to happen,” he dismissed me by saying. “I have a job lined up over here, and I just put a deposit down on a house for my family in town.”
“I want you out of my house and out of my town,” I doubled down and told him. “Today. This morning. Right fucking now.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’m going to tell.”
“Tell?” He tossed the word out like it was something laughable. “Christ, what age are you?”
“I’m seventeen now,” I bit out. “But I was seven when you raped me.”
“Don’t—”
“I was seven years old when you first raped me!” I said louder, refusing to be silenced a second longer by my fear of this man. “I was eleven years old when you finally stopped!” Blowing out a ragged breath, I glared at the monster standing in front of me with tears pouring down my cheeks, and strangled out, “You took four years of my childhood from me, and I’ve been living in a prison in my mind every damn day of my life since. So, if you don’t want to risk spending the next seventeen years of your life behind bars, you’ll get on a plane and never come back!”
