Page 65 of Snowed In
Hannah’s hands go to her hips, her glower turning more into a pout. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Well, I don’t want to see her get hurt,” I say. “So, I’m asking you to give her a chance. You don’t think she’s nervous enough as it is coming home for the first time after everything that happened? She’s trying. And that’s the least you can do too.”
“But—”
“Hannah. If you don’t trust her, then trust me. Drop it, okay?”
She slumps before me, the stubborn hold of her shoulders easing as she sees how serious I am. “Okay,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not me who needs to hear that.”
The scowl comes back. “I’m not going to apologize to her,” she says. “Because that will be awkward, but I’ll…I don’t know. I’ll make it up to her.” Her gaze hardens. “But if she does anything to you, I swear to God, I’ll—”
“Again, you’re an idiot,” I interrupt, looping an arm around her shoulders. “But thank you for protecting my honor.”
“Someone has to,” she grumbles but leans into my side as I lead her back to the others.
FOURTEEN
MEGAN
I’m still shivering by the time Christian drops me back at my house. The water was the kind of cold that creeps into your bones and takes hold no matter how many blankets you have, and I know it will be a few hours before I feel normal again. It was worth it, though. Years of early morning dips in the freezing Irish Sea hardened me to the initial shock of the lake, and even if I lost, I like to think I proved myself a bit. Christian definitely looked at me like I did.
He fussed over me afterward and wanted me to take a shower back at his, but I figured there would be a long enough line for their bathroom, so I insisted he take me home instead. That was the reason I said out loud, anyway. The other was Hannah, who still definitely doesn’t like me even though Christian said he took care of it. But not even she can ruin my good mood as I let myself into my blissfully warm house.
I need a bath, but I didn’t have a sandwich like the others, and all that exercise has left me starving, so my mind is fully on toasted bread and melted cheese when I come to a halt in the kitchen doorway and find my mother sitting with someone at the island.
Isaac’s dad.
Padraig Quinn is a big, quiet man, who I’d once heard someone refer to as a gentle giant. He’s polite and soft-spoken and was always kind to me growing up. His hair is whiter than I remember, his skin more lined. But his eyes are the same, and he still wears the same blue shirt and brown corduroy pants ensemble that I used to see him in every day.
It’s something people rarely talk about when they discuss breakups, especially with long-term relationships. You lose a partner, you might lose their friends, but you also lose their family. And Isaac and I had known each for so long that his parents were like mine. I used to get on well with Padraig, but now we stare at each other like strangers. Which I guess, in a way, we are.
“Megan,” he says like I haven’t been gone for five years. “You look like you’ve been in the wars.”
“We went swimming.”
“Swimming?” Mam’s nose wrinkles. “Where?”
“The lake,” I say, tugging at my coat. “I didn’t see your car,” I tell Padraig. The words are apologetic like I’m telling him if I had, I would have run five miles in the other direction.
“I walked over,” he says, stretching out his leg. “Bunged my knee up a few months ago. Trying to get into the habit of stretching it out.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I murmur, and he nods, glancing between Mam and me before clearing his throat.
“Well, I should probably head,” he says gruffly, getting to his feet.
“You’re very good to stop by,” Mam says.
“Not at all.” He turns to me with a hopeful look. “You should drop by the house sometime. I’m sure Alice would love to see you.”
“I will,” I say, even though I absolutely will not. His parents still don’t know what went down between Isaac and me. But I’ve always wondered if they’ve had their suspicions. The way Padraig’s looking at me now, with a hint of embarrassment, only makes them grow stronger.
Mam sees him to the door, and I start pulling together my sandwich, trying not to listen to their murmured conversation. She returns a minute later, but says nothing, watching me go through the motions.
“He stops by every now and then,” she says when I finish. “Both him and Alice. And he sends his apologies. He dropped over some Christmas presents but didn’t know you were back. Otherwise, he would have included you.” She hesitates. “He also said that Isaac’s—”
“Engaged,” I say. “I know.”
