“I think you don’t knowwhy. Or if you do, you’re choosing to ignore it.”
“She betrayed me.”
“She protected herfamily,” Zoe counters. “There’s a difference. And if you can’t see that, then maybe you’re not the man she thinks you are.”
I ball my hand into a fist. “You don’t get to judge me.”
“I absolutely do. Because from where I’m standing, Fiona is loyal to a fault. She loves deeply, and she sacrifices herself without complaint. And you—” She exhales sharply. “You’re punishing her because it’s easier than admitting you’re hurt. But you better put your pride aside, and fast, because you’re going to lose her, and I’ll tell you right now, Cormac Sullivan, you will never find anyone better than Fiona.”
Silence stretches between us.
Zoe continues, quieter now. “She would do anything for the people she loves. And for reasons I don’t understand, that includes you too. Quite frankly, if you can’t recognize that, then you don’t deserve her.”
The line goes dead, and I lower the phone slowly, my thoughts a tangled mess.
Of course, Fiona is fiercely loyal. I know that.
The question that won’t leave me alone is whether that loyalty is freely given, or something she’s learned to trade for safety.
Chapter Thirteen
FIONA
I pressmy hand to the cold glass of the upstairs window, holding my breath as I watch Scout and Cormac in the garden below.
Scout’s chasing a bug along the stone patio, completely oblivious to the mid-February chill. Even with the window closed, I can hear Scout’s laughter, so light and carefree.
My chest tightens because, for a while, I thought I would never hear that sound again. And while I may no longer have the relationship with him that I once had, even just getting to witness his smile from afar is enough. At least for now.
Cormac follows closely behind Scout, barely leaving more than a yard’s distance between them as his eyes constantly scan for danger, as if he’s terrified someone is going to jump out of the bushes and snatch him.
Even with the extra security precautions he’s taken, I wonder if that fear will ever truly go away.
I haven’t interacted with Scout once since he came home. I know Cormac is trying to rebuild his son’s world and sense of safety, but it hurts to watch from the sidelines.
I wonder if he’s asked for me, if he catches sight of me around the house on the rare occasions I’m brave enough to leave my room.
All I can do is hope that he doesn’t think I don’t care, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.
As I stand at the window and watch Scout play, I realize how badly I want to reach out, to scoop him into my arms and apologize for all the ways I’ve failed.
Suddenly, Scout stumbles, and my pulse spikes as I watch him start to fall onto the hard stones.
But Cormac’s hand shoots out instinctively to steady him, and then he’s off again, waving his net around in front of him as he resumes his task of bug catching.
Cormac hangs back for a moment, offering Scout a rare moment of independence. Then he turns, and his eyes flick upward to the window where I’m standing, watching.
Our gazes lock through the glass, and my body freezes, my breath catching in my throat.
He doesn’t wave or offer me a smile. He just…looks.
For a fraction of a second, the world narrows to just us, and then just as quickly it’s gone, and Cormac is jogging away to catch up to Scout.
Later that afternoon, I find myself in the laundry room, folding towels and endless onesies straight from the dryer. I stack them in neat piles, finding the repetitive work helps to quiet my thoughts.
Though, the peace is short-lived when Cormac’s voice cuts through the quiet.
“Fiona.”
