Page 25 of The Secret We Keep
Paddy scoffs. “What’s going on?”
My dad doesn’t answer right away. “I’m protecting my daughter.”
“From what?” Paddy fires at him.
“From the likes of you. She doesn’t need distractions and wild boys in her life right now.”
“She’s not a kid anymore. You can’t keep her in the apparent prison you’ve got her locked up in.”
Oh bollocks. I can honestly say I never thought it would end up here. That death by embarrassment is how I’d go out.
I can’t listen anymore.
Pushing away from the door, I find my mum before I head to my room and call Holly. Once I know she made it home okay, I sit on the edge of my bed, tucking my knees to my chest.
If you want to write, I think you should.
The flowery notepad I use sits there, staring at me, my pen perfectly placed on top. I don’t think about what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. All I know is that the words being scratched onto the paper flow freely, and the soft ache in my chest doesn’t hurt. It’s nice. Like I’m dusting off an old piece of myself I thought I’d lost.
Meet me at The Winchester Gate
Paddy
Backatmyparents’place, I glance up at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, tempted to put my fist through the glass. Morgan’s expression before she went inside was downcast and sad. The girl I remember, all wild and free, is clearly no longer the woman who remains cooped up in our hometown.
My hands gripping the side of the porcelain sink, twitch with instinct. I should step in. Help. The old version of myself would have known exactly what to say and how to do just that. Now, there is only doubt.
I left. It isn’t my place anymore. Even if it was, what if trying to help opens my wounds? What if my presence did more harm than good? It’s happened before, it could happen again. The urge to stay is real though, burning quietly in my core like wildfire. But it’s tangled with fear. Fear that my need to intervene might backfire spectacularly.
Closing my eyes, I stand straight, taking a deep breath. My bags are packed, ready to get out of here. Going home and facing the life I built for myself is not something I want to do right now, but I have to.
I don’t buy Morgan’s father thinking he’s doing the right thing by her, dictating her life for her like she’s still a kid. Somewhere real deep inside me, I know that I could make things better. But, fear aside, it simply isn’t my place. Never truly has been. I always just imposedmyself because I knew I could get away with it back then. I can’t do that now.
Fi walks into the bathroom unannounced. Her sullen eyes drop to my washbag. “You’re leavingnow?”
I look at her in the mirror. “I have to get back to work. Want to be on the road before the traffic gets bad.” I grab my bag and turn to face her.
“Did you even speak to Morgan?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, tempted to say that it’s because of my conversation with her, or more so her father, that I feel the need to bail. I’m too old to be scorned by some patriarch who thinks he knows best. “What do you want me to do?”
Fi sighs. “I want you to stay.”
I tip my head back, guilt gnawing in the pit of my stomach. “We’re not kids anymore, Fi.”
“You know, every morning, I run past every house in this village. Every day, I see the same old faces before I go to work. And every morning, I know when I run past Morgan’s, there will be no lights,” she explains.
“What are you getting at?” I ask impatiently.
“This morning, her light was on, and not only was it on, she was up.”
“Fi, you shouldn’t be looking through someone’s window. People get arrested for that shit.”
“She wasup, Paddy. She had a purpose today. And the only thing that’s different here is you.”
A sudden mix of relief and warmth hits me. Her words healing the small part of me that I’ve hidden. Still, I can’t stay. “Fi—”
“Don’t you get it?”
