Page 18 of The Secret We Keep
Eyes closed tight, my mouth turns dry, and I try my hardest to swallow back my tears.
“Paddy?”
Hanging up on him is easier than forming words, sothat’s what I do.
Slipping my phone into my pocket, I turn, hearing my mum and Fi talking on the other side of the door. I press my forehead to the wood, wondering why my life got so fucking complicated.
I’m swimming with the sharks, desperately treading water. My body aches from the guilt, and my bones are hollow from the aftermath.
Grief. It’s the real silent killer.
Managing to compose myself seconds before I hear the handle on the door twisting, I plaster my face with a smile.
Mum looks me up and down, and I can tell she knows I’m not okay. I haven’t told her what went down because I’m worried if I express my pain, she’ll carry that weight like it’s her burden to bear. It’s not. “Morgan’s ready to go home,” she announces, still cradling Kevin in her arms.
“Okay.” I place a gentle kiss on the side of her head, then step past. When I look around the hallway, Morgan isn’t there. “Where is she?”
“She said she’d wait outside.”
Grabbing my keys, my steps are hurried as I leave the house and walk the short path out onto the track.
Morgan’s waiting for me. “Nice car,” she muses, looking down.
I look at the cow shit painted across the side of my BMW before swivelling my head at her. “That you trying to be funny?”
She grins, and I shove my hands in my pockets, admiring the way her face lights up all innocently. There’s a light-hearted chuckle and a little snort at the end, the sound alone like a kind of music I didn’t know I needed. “Seriously? Awhitecar? You thought that was a good idea?”
I huff out my laugh. “It doesn’t get covered in cow shit driving around London.”
“That must be nice.” She means well, but my face falls flat when I think of how I left things.
“Yeah. Real nice.”
Her head tilts to one side. “Everything alright, Paddy?”
Only Morgan could be the first person to ask me that question and not make my initial reaction be to run away. Her eyes dance with mine, her face soft, her expression one of genuine concern rather than upset or hatred like I’m used to facing of late.
“Fine, curly fries.”
I don’t expect her to laugh, but I know the snort is coming.
Nobody has made me smile more in such a short space of time.
“Sorry,” she apologises. She wipes underneath her nose, which has turned slightly red at the end.
“For what?”
She shakes her head. “You looked like you were sad for a second there, but all I could hear was Paddy O’Keefe calling me curly fries.”
My lips part with my laugh. “It’s still fitting.”
“Just like He-man.”
Another laugh, but in surprise this time. “Is that what you used to call me?” I ask feeling quite pleased.
Morgan’s eyes assess the entire length of my body. “Not me. Holly.” I’m still smiling like a chump when she looks away. “I really can make my own way home. Your mum was quite insistent you drive me, but I’ll be okay.” I step closer, but it makes Morgan step back. “Holly took off,” she blurts like she’s panicking, her eyes narrowing in time with the corner of her lip pulling. “Reckons she’d end up being a third wheel while we talk.”
“Third wheel?”
