“But you know you have to go home,” he says, his voice thick. “Be a good girl for me.”
I nod, though it breaks me.
“I’ll see you next week,” he says. There’s something boyish in his tone now, some tender hope that doesn’t match his hard edges.
“You have my number,” he adds. “If you need to call… if you needanything, lass…callme.”
And then we part, slowly, like tearing fabric. And with every step I take away from him, it gets harder to keep walking.
I don’t make it seven more days.
I stare at his number over and over, thumb hovering, wondering what would happen if I just called. Or even sent one text. But I don’t.
It feels wrong somehow, like I’d be taking advantage of him. And I can’t do that. Not to him. Not to this man I’m falling so desperately in love with.
Can it even be love? It’s too soon, too wild, too unknown. I don’t even know his last name or where he really comes from.
Well, I know he’s from Ireland. Okay,thatmuch I know. A small, coastal village, he said. And I believe him. I feel that truth in my bones.
But still. I don’t know his history. I don’t know who he is when he’s not looking at me like I’m his salvation.
What I do know is this: I definitely have a crush. A dangerous, consuming, heart-in-my-throat crush on a man who is everything the boys Mia hangs around with, who drive fast and get shitfaced with cheap beer, arenot.
But Ihaveto move on with my life.
So I try.
There has to be life beyond a man I can’t have.
So when Mia invites me to a football game, I say yes because I’m trying. Trying to feel normal. Tobenormal.
But the boys she introduces me to? That’s all they are.Boys.
They don’t have rough stubble that scrapes your skin in the best way. None of them have hands that could grip your waist like it’s sacred. None of them carry danger and devotion in their eyes.
Not like Seamus.MySeamus.
The boy who sits next to me talks about video games. His statistics class. How hard midterms are. I stare at him and blow out a breath.
He doesn’t know how hard life is. His mother still gives him anallowance.
I wonder if this boy has ever held a gun. If he could aim it steady and shoot someone right between the eyes to protect someone he loved.
Nah.
Sigh.
Sitting there, surrounded by kids playing at adulthood, I realize I don’t belong in this world. Maybe I never did.
I was born and raised in the Bratva.
And the thought of staying there forever with the old rules, the silent codes, the bloodshed and loyalty, terrifies me.
But not as much as this emptiness does.
I know what I need. I need someone who knows. Who understands. Someone who’s already counted the cost of a life like mine. Who doesn’t flinch at consequences.
I’m so wrapped in my thoughts and longing that it all happens too fast.