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ROHAN
“Are you okay?”It’s been almost an hour since we arrived at the estate, and after a very brief tour of the hallway, Saoirse veered into the living quarters and has barely moved an inch since. Not to mention she’s hardly strung a sentence together, only acknowledging me with one-word responses and the odd head nod. I’m out of my depth and sinking rapidly. “Still cold? Do you want a blanket?”
Her face remains stoic, void of any emotion as she peers around the expansive room, her gaze lingering on various pieces of artwork decorating the walls. Finally, she settles her wandering eyes on me. “I’m fine, Rohan. Stop hovering. Your nice guy act is weirding me out.”
Stalking forward, I then hunch down in front of her, meeting her at eye level. “For one, you don’t look fine. And two, it’s not an act. A lot has happened to you tonight, Saoirse. Is it so fucking wrong that I’m concerned about your well-being?”
Her amber eyes glimmer with unshed tears. “What do you want me to say, Rohan?”
“I want you to be honest with me.”
“Ha! That’s a little rich. Especially when everything and everyone in this fucking town thrives on deceit and lies.” She pauses, sucking in a deep inhale through her nose. “Fine…You want my truth, have it. I feel as though I’m stuck in this constant freefall, spiralling further and further into a bottomless black hole, and I don’t know how to make it stop.” An angry tear seeps from the corner of her eye, carelessly sliding down her cheek.
“You’re overwhelmed by your emotions. Frustrated by your need for answers. Upset at the lack of control you have over your life. Angry at every person who has kept you in the dark. I get it, Saoirse. But sitting here, staring blankly at the walls, will not help you sieve through any of that.”
Raising my hand, I catch her fallen tear with my thumb and then swipe it from my fingertip with my tongue before giving her some truth of my own. “I have never lied to you.”
“Haven’t you?” Her eyes narrow, effortlessly holding me accountable for a sin I haven’t committed.
“No. Sure, sometimes I’ve withheld the truth, but not once have I lied.”
“You’re playing the omission card.Really,Rohan. How big of you.”
“Look, I get that you’re hurting, love. But I promise you, anything I’ve withheld was for a reason. I was trying to protect you.”
“That didn’t work out so well for you, did it?” she barks, but her statement punctures my skin like a ferocious bite.
My eyes drop to the floor, her words affecting me far more than I care to admit.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, placing her fingers beneath my chin and tilting my face until our gazes intertwine. “That was a shitty thing for me to say. I shouldn’t blame you for someone else’s wrongdoings. I’m just tired of it all, Rohan. Over a week ago, I was just an average teenage girl. And now, here I am, thrust into a lifestyle I know nothing about. Every time I think I get close to figuring out the answers, a new tidal wave of questions appears and then I’m drowning all over again.”
Reaching out, I push the fallen strands of hair from her face.
Her eyes dance around the room, bouncing from wall to wall. “I spent my childhood hopping from matchbox house to matchbox house, and then suddenly, you’re handing me the keys to an entire estate and telling me it’s mine. I’m confused, Rohan. When did this” — she holds her hand out, gesturing around us — “become my life?”
Placing her palms on the couch, she pushes herself to her feet and moves past me. She crosses the room until she’s standing in front of the enormous fireplace, her back to me. Following her lead, I stand up and place my hands in my pockets, allowing my feet to carry me towards her.
I watch as she draws her palms together, sliding her hands up and down, creating heat with the friction. Then she holds them above the open flame. Finally, she peers up at me. “I don’t know who I can trust.”
Reaching for her, I wrap my arms around her and draw her into my chest. Her arms circle around my waist, and she rests her head against my shoulder.
“You can trust me,” I whisper into her hair.
Pulling back an inch, she peeps over her thick lashes. “I want to believe that, really, I do. But all of this started with you.”
As I glide my hands over her arms, I step back to look at her. “There’s where you’re wrong, mo bhanríon. Me and you — we are not the beginning of this story. We’re the end.”
“Jesus, Rohan.” She pulls out of my hold completely and then turns her back to me. Her hands cover her face as her shoulders rise and fall with her large intake of breath. Finally, she turns around. “Can you stop being so fucking cryptic? You are driving me insane. I can’t take it anymore. Everything out of your mouth has an underlying message, a hidden snippet of information for me to decipher. My life is not Hansel and Gretel. I don’t want to follow your breadcrumbs. For fuck’s sake, just spit it out.” Her hands fly through the surrounding air, accentuating every word while everything from the last week and a half finally boils over. She spews every ounce of her frustration at me until finally, a defeated breath rushes from her lungs. “I need answers.”
“Sit down.”
Her brow hitches, making her doe eyes crinkle.
“Sit. The. Fuck. Down. You want answers, Saoirse, fine. You can have answers, but you better make sure you ask the right questions.”
Shaking her head, she stalks towards the couch, muttering something under her breath about me and my fucking whiplash.
Once she’s sitting, I take a seat directly across from her and then rest my elbows on my knees. Her eyes laser in on mine, and we sit there, staring for a moment. Finally, her first question breaks out of the gate. “Do you know where my mam is and is she okay?”
