Page 25 of It Shouldn't Be You
Don't doctors usually try to placate you with promises that it’s probably nothing?
So, when Cole suggests we get ice cream, I say yes before he’s even finished his sentence. The drive passes in a blur, and before I know it, we’re placing our orders and finding a booth to sit and enjoy our sweet treats.
“How’s life without having your brothers around?” I ask Cole as we slide into the booth, me with my Oreo ice cream and Kinder milkshake while he eats his honeycomb ice cream. Yes, I’m having double dairy, and sure I might regret that later, but for now, I need all the sugar I can get.
“It’s strange as hell. But kind of refreshing at the same time. I’ve never been away from them, never been out from under their shadows and the Four Points name. It’s kind of…nice to breathe without all that pressure, you know?” Cole has always been the nice guy to balance out their grumpy attitudes, and it’s not gone unnoticed how people gravitate towards him. It’s no surprise the weight of that is a lot to handle.
“I can only imagine; do you have any ideas what you’re going to do after the year here?” I ask as I finish my ice cream.
“Nah, that’s a whole year away. Who knows what will happen? Maybe I’ll fall in love with someone and stay here,” he jokes, but I know he’s so soft-hearted it’s a real possibility. I’mnot naive. I know he has a slight crush on me, which seemed to form overnight, but I also know said crush will pass. That’s just the way things are with Cole. From zero to a hundred and back again before you can blink. It’s most likely a side effect of being raised by his two older brothers and trying to outshine their shadows.
“Speaking of love, how’s Logan treating you?” he changes the subject away from himself.
“It’s going okay. I mean, he’s busy as hell, but when I do get to spend time with him, it’s been good so far,” I say with a sigh, once again reminded of the confusing mess that is my marriage.
I thought admitting we want each other would be the start of making a real go of things. With looks and kisses that hot, surely, he wants more than fleeting glances as he heads from one meeting to the next. And yet he hasn’t so much as suggested we have dinner together at home.
Maybe giving him a little push in the right direction is needed, after all.
Text Chat
Chapter 19
Ireland is a magical land, as I discovered the first time I visited with Alex on a hunt for answers. The atmosphere here is unmatched, and at one point, I even debated moving here, if for no other reason than to see my father blow a gasket at me moving to the homeland of the Four Points.
"I can't believe we're here," Abigail exclaims, looking out the passenger window. After meeting up with Owen and Cora, we had picked up our rental car and started making our way to the city centre, with Alex and the Finlay brothers tailing us. Throughout the ride, the girls had been mesmerized by everything, even the mundane things like shops we have at home, which in their words, "look so different."
"Best believe it, babe, we're here. Childfree for a double date weekend."
"Technically this is a work trip," I interject, only to receive glares from both of them before they dismiss me and return to making plans for the weekend. I share a glance with Owen, who just shrugs but looks at Cora fondly as she lists some restaurantsshe wants to check out. I can’t blame him; these days, I’m just as whipped as he is.
But if that’s the price to pay to have a woman like Abigail by my side, then fuck it. I’ll gladly pay it every day and twice on Sunday.
But first, we have a piece of shit human trafficker to hunt down.
With the girls safely in the hotel and under the Finlay brothers' watchful eyes, we plug the address of Mr. Benedict’s house into the GPS. According to what Brennan was able to find out, the house sits on its own plot of land with no neighbours for miles—in other words, the perfect place for people to vanish.
"You ready for this?" Owen asks from the passenger seat, looking concerned.
"As ready as I can be. I’d just rather we got answers sooner than later. I’m sick of this shit remaining a mystery." Ignoring the sympathetic gaze, I focus on following the GPS.
A few hours later, I flick on my indicator to follow the dirt road that leads to a derelict house that sends a chill down my spine just looking at it. There’s moss and ivy crawling up the walls, the windows clearly haven’t been cleaned in a long time, and everything screams abandoned. But at the same time, it feels like there’s a presence here, like we aren’t alone.
Sharing a look, we get out of the car, check our guns, and make the rest of the way on foot. While having a getaway car nearby is always preferred, having a car announce your presence isn’t always the best idea, and today isn’t one of those days.
"Front or back?"
"Back."
Heading around to the back of the house and ducking under the windows, we soon come across a totally different picture. While the building looks a mess and abandoned from the front, the back is perfectly maintained. The lawn is meticulously mowed, and the furniture pristine, setting off warning sirens in my head. With a jerk of my chin, I direct Owen to take one side of the sliding back door as I take the other, and together we open them.
With our guns drawn, we systematically clear each room on the ground floor, mentally cataloguing the absolute shit show that is this house. There’s rubbish littered everywhere, the couch cushions have been flipped onto the floor, and there’s shattered glass in the kitchen. It looks like there was a struggle here. Recently.
"Up or down?" Owen asks as we get to the stairs, which lead down into a dark basement and up to the second floor. I’ve done this enough to know the basement is usually where darkness lurks.
"Basement."
We make our way down and freeze as the stairs creak. When nothing happens, we continue down. At the bottom, it’s clear this was used as a cell. There’s a cot in the corner with a bucket nearby and what looks like a shower curtain in another corner. Like upstairs, down here is a mess. There are used condoms all over the floor near the bed, blood stains on the threadbare mattress, and shackles attached to the frame of the cot. Imagining my mum down here makes me sick to my stomach. Before I can spiral down that train of thought, Owen calls my name from behind the shower curtain.
