Page 68 of Twist of Fate
He’s watching me with an intensity that wasn’t there just a moment ago, his gaze roaming over me in a predatory way I feel all the way down to my toes and back up again.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he likes me in his clothes.
That makes two of us.
I pull my jacket back on, and we stand side by side, leaning on the railing. “So, what do you think? Too cold? Rather be back in the mall?”
“The mall with the wall was nice. But no.” I gaze down the fjord. The water appears almost endless. It feels untouched by time. “This is—” I struggle to find the words. “This is perfect. I still can’t believe places like this exist.” I turn and see him staring, and I feel embarrassed. “What?”
“I think I’m beginning to realize just how much I take for granted,” he says, turning his attention back to the water. “I’ve never doubted that Ireland is beautiful, but seeing it through someone else’s eyes makes me suddenly grateful for this opportunity.”
“To be a tour guide?”
He nods. “Let’s just say it wasn’t my first choice out of uni.”
“No?” I scoff. “But you seem perfect for the role. Whenever my mom returns from an O’Connell tour, she talks nonstop about all the strapping young lads who led her tours.”
He laughs. “That is what sets us apart from our competitors, yes.”
“Well, I think you make a great tour guide,” I tell him. “Even though I was a little disappointed we didn’t get the guy who collects plants while on tour for his wife.”
“That’s Seamus,” he states. “He’s grand. Lives in Belfast, and yeah, he loves his wife something fierce. Spends half his tour sharing stories about her and their kids. It sounds like it’d get annoying, but people live for it.”
“That’s what my mom said.” The wind sends a wisp of hair cascading across my face. Finn absently reaches out and tucks it behind my ear. I don’t think he even realizes he’s done it until his fingers brush against my earlobe, and he quickly pulls back. “She—um.” I try to remember what I was about to say. “She’s a hopeless romantic, despite being married to my abusive father and losing my stepdad to cancer. You would think that would make her a cynic, but she’s the exact opposite. She loves experiencing other people’s joy.
“Your father is abusive?” His voice becomes hollow, and I notice an intensity in his gaze that wasn’t there a moment ago.
“He was,” I answer. “To her.”
“But not to you?”
I shake my head and watch his shoulders drop as he exhales. “I barely remember him—just fleeting glimpses here and there. He, um—” I hesitate with how much to reveal because while I know my mom isn’t ashamed, I also know it isn’t my story to share. “It reached a point where she had enough evidence to press charges and send him to prison.”
“He’s still there?”
Another shake of my head. “He died,” I answer. “Got assaulted by another inmate a year or so after he went in.”
He grunts. “That’s fitting.”
As much as my mom didn’t want to admit such a thing, it had been a blessing. My dad would have eventually gotten out. The prison sentence for domestic abuse was never long enough, and the moment he got out, he would have sought his revenge.
“What are your parents like?” I ask, needing a change of subject. I also realize I’ve never heard him mention his family—not once. He shares little tidbits about his life while talking on the bus, but it’s always about shenanigans on tour or at school—never about his family.
“My mom is lovely. Dad is a bit rigid,” he says with that casual shrug I’ve gotten so used to.
“Any brothers or sisters?”
“Only child, like you, I’m assuming?”
I nod. “My stepdad didn’t have any kids. He was older when he met my mom, and I think they were both content with just the three of us.”
“And he was good to you?”
“My stepfather? Yeah, Saul was great. Never missed a dance performance or?—”
“Bollocks, I nearly forgot about the Irish dancing.” His eyes sparkle with amusement. “What I wouldn’t give to see you all dressed up in one of those costumes with your hair in curls.”
“Never gonna happen.”
