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I take the stairs two at a time, and when I reach the top, I see the door to my room is slightly ajar, and I'm wondering if she has it open for a reason.
Entering the room, it takes everything in me not to lose my shit. She's lying on the bed, her eyes closed. I'm glad she's resting, but her beautiful pale skin is marred with two dark, ugly bruises. One on her cheek and the other on her head that covers her eye. That cunt hit her hard and left bruises. I'm definitely going to enjoy killing the fucking cunt.
"Hey," I say softly, not wanting to upset her. I feel awkward, unsure of what to say, but I'm not leaving.
She opens her eyes and gingerly sits up. "Hi," she replies. "I wasn't sure if you were coming home."
Christ, she really has a low opinion of me, not that I can blame her. I haven’t given her any reason to think differently.
"I was always comin' back, Ailbhe. Always."
She nods, but her eyes are void of emotion. She doesn't believe me.
"Are you busy?" I ask. "I want to talk to you about why I'm such an asshole."
Her lips twitch, and I feel as though that's a great start. "Of course not. Take a seat, Preacher. You're making me nervous standing up."
I sink down onto the bed and face her. "I was born to parents who were cunts," I say, unable to keep the snarl from my voice. "They were violent. My father was a pastor, and he used the Bible to teach lessons. If he deemed me to do something wrong, he'd punish me while reciting passages from the Bible." I run a hand through my hair in agitation. I fucking hate talking about this shit. "They're people that I haven't seen since I turned eighteen. I'll never fucking see them again either."
"Oh, Preacher, I'm so very sorry."
"Nothin' for you to apologize for, babe. It was a long time ago." I take a steadying breath and glance away. Fuck, this is going to be hard. "My brother was younger than me. He too felt the wrath of our parents. It was brutal, Ailbhe, so fucking brutal. I told him I was leaving, and the morning I was due to go, he hanged himself."
I hear her gasp and turn to her. I see tears falling from her eyes and hate that she's upset. I fucking hate seeing them fall. "Oh, Preacher," she whispers. "God, I'm so sorry."
I nod. "He was a good kid. He was so fuckin' funny, and he was full of life, but they beat him down. Christ, they beat us both until we were shells of who we were." I grind my jaw. This is a lot fucking harder than I thought it would be. "I despise everything to do with religion.”
Her eyes narrow and darken as she curls her lip into a snarl. "Why did you get the name Preacher then?"
I chuckle. "It’s my road name that was given to me by my brothers. It's ironic. Same as Bozo's is."
She shakes her head. "You had a traumatic childhood. They shouldn't have given you that name."
I fucking love that she's angry for me. But she shouldn't be. "Trust me, babe, if I had a problem with it, I'd have said so."
She swipes away her tears. "I just hate that you've been through so much. God, I love my siblings. I love them so very much, I couldn't imagine losing them. I'm so sorry for your loss."
"It happened a long time ago now, Ailbhe."
"It doesn't matter how long ago it happened. It still happened, and you lost someone you loved dearly."
"I went through a lot of dark places. I found a home with the Fury Vipers, a brotherhood. I was lucky."
She grins. "They seem amazing, and they've all had great things to say about you. I'm glad you found your home."
"I almost lost it," I tell her, knowing that I need to get it all out. If I don't, I'll lose my nerve and probably won't bring it up again.
"What do you mean?" she asks, her brows furrowed. She's cute when she's confused. Her nose scrunches up and her freckles seem to draw closer together.
"I was out one night and this guy was being a dick, kept coming at us. You know the type, big mouth, full of shit, and looking for a fight."
She grins. "Have you met my brother Ruairi yet?"
I chuckle. "Well, this fucker was dying for a fight and he got it." I shake my head. "I'm a good fighter, babe. I beat that fucker until he was moving no longer."
Her lips form an 'O'. "Did you get into trouble?"
I shake my head. "Almost did, but thankfully, I was able to get on with my life. He, however, never recovered from the injuries I gave him."
