Page 36 of On The Rocks

The heavy feeling turned into a ton of weight. My cheeks began to heat, much like back at the church, and I murmured, “Oh.”

“You’re a sweet girl,” he continued. “But you gotta learn to toughen up. Be more like Shannon.”

The words dug into my heart like a knife because all my life, I’d fought my ass off to be nothing like Shannon Doyle, the reason being that she was a nasty bitch.

“She’ll probably go a long way. She works what she’s got. It’s why she’ll suit the Bratva boss’s son. I know Shan’s got an evil streak, but in her world, it’s necessary. I don’t like it, but I understand it. In a way, I even admire it.”

“You want me to be more like Shannon?” I asked disbelievingly.

“When it comes to other people taking advantage, yeah,” he agreed. “I can’t be there all the time to protect you, like today. If somebody gives you shit, you gotta learn to give it back. You’re about to start a new life, sweetheart. Start as you mean to go on.”

A notion dawned on me, and I suddenly felt sick. “You think I’m weak?”

He shrugged, expertly maneuvering the car around a corner. “Not the word I’d have used, but, babe, you do have to toughen up and start fighting back.”

A chill skated over my skin.

Toughen up?

Was this asshole for real?

What gave him the right to judge me with his charmed life in Wyoming and loving, supportive family? He wouldn’t have lasted five minutes navigating the snake pit I’d grown up in.

How fucking dare he?

“When should I have done that, Callum?” I asked, my voice deceptively quiet. “When I was six, and I lost my parents within a few months of each other, and my entire world imploded. Or maybe the time when I was seven, and I made too much noise when Orla was on the phone, and she backhanded me so hard she split my lip open. It was the first time in my life anyonehad hit me, though not the last, seeing as how your precious Shannon—you know, the one you want me to be like—took up from where her mom left off and slapped, pinched, and bit me so hard that I’ve got the scars. Or maybe when I threatened to tell Paddy, and Orla vowed to send me to a children’s home where the boys would sexually assault me.” I leaned toward him and screeched, “Is that what you mean by fighting back?”

His face blanked, and he rasped, “What?”

“I willneverbe like Shannon becauseshe’sjust like Orla, and I’ve worked too damned hard to be nothing likeher. Erin’s okay—harmless, really, but she’s a sheep. None of them understand me, and that's okay; in fact, it’s everything because it means I did something right, and regardless of growing up around those women, I did what I set out to do as a six-year-old child and becamenothing like them.”

The air in the car shifted. “She hurt you—” he began.

I cut him off with a humorless, brittle laugh. “Orla hated me. All she cared about was the surface and how things looked. Paddy took me in, and she lost her mind. Stepmother dearest went from having Liam and two perfect daughters to having a charity case thrown at her, one with the wrong hair and weird looks. I was a withdrawn kid who was heartbroken and grieving. I didn’t fit with her aesthetic. I still don’t and thank God for that. It shows I did everything right. I’m smart, and I listen and learn from everything I can. I’m kind and try to help people, and okay, so I might not wear the right clothes or have the right hair like your biker babes back in Wyoming, but I don’t care. I may be socially awkward, and you may think I’m a doormat—you may even be right—but I’m still better than those girls in every way possible. So, you see, I don’t need to fight back, Callum O’Shea, because I already won bynot becoming them.”

To my surprise, the car stopped, and Callum turned off the engine.

Looking around, I saw we were already back at the house, though I hadn’t noticed because of my rant.

A warm hand enveloped mine, and I jumped slightly at its unexpectedness.

“I’m sorry she did that to you, Mae,” Callum murmured. “Does Paddy know? If not, he will in about ten point five seconds ‘cause I’ll storm in there and?—”

“It’s okay,” I assured him. “Liam saw it happen when I was nine and told Paddy. I don’t know what he said or did to her, but Orla never touched me again, but she made sure Shannon did. Luckily, by the time we turned thirteen, I became invisible, so even she left me alone after that.”

His stare drifted toward the house. “You never know what goes on behind closed doors.”

“No, you don’t,” I agreed, my eyes following his.

He paused briefly. “You know we need to havetheconversation, right?” he asked, putting emphasis on ‘the’.

The heavy feeling tugged my belly again.

My eyes slid back to his face, and I joked, “I hoped we could put it off for at least a year or two.”

Ignoring my attempt at humor, he went on, “We haven’t talked about what you want from our marriage. You gotta admit, this shit’s not normal. We hardly know each other.”

Callum only pointed out what was glaringly obvious, but still, his words wounded.

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