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I take a step closer and then another, gripping his shoulder for balance, and then lean in and kiss his forehead softly before I back away, knowing he is still a predator and I’m the helpless prey.
“Summer,” he mumbles in his sleep, and I flinch at the sound of my name on his lips. It was said with such vulnerability, without any malice or threat behind it.
“Who are you really?” I whisper to the unconscious man on my sofa. “And why do I feel this strange connection to you, despite everything you’ve done to me?”
As much as I try, I can’t shake the image of Ciarán outside my house, begging for forgiveness. His pride shattered, and his defenses weakened. It was a side of him I’m glad I got to see, drunk or not. I doubt I’ll ever see it again. A pang of worry hits my stomach as I think about how he is going to be when he wakes up.
“Time will tell if letting you in was the right decision… or the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”
21
CIARÁN
When I open my eyes, my head pounds like a relentless hammer, the world around me swimming in a blurry haze. It takes a moment before I can focus on my surroundings. I’m lying on Summer’s couch, yesterday’s events coming back to me in flashes.
“Fuck,” I groan, cradling my hand against my chest. The knuckles are bruised and swollen from pounding that guy’s face in with a smashed bottle for not paying his debt. The pain reminds me of the monster I am – the one who thrives on violence and control.
“Awake at last?”
Blinking, I lift my head to find Summer perched in an armchair across from me. She clutches a knife in her hand with white-knuckled determination. My heart races at the sight of her wielding a weapon, the dangerous expression in her eyes adding to the thrill.
“Tinks,” I say, wincing at the dry crack in my voice. “You don’t need that.”
“Really?” she asks, her voice cold and unyielding. “How can I be sure?”
“Look, I know I messed up,” I admit, trying to swallow but then coughing as my throat dries up completely. “But I won’t hurt you, not again.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it,” Summer replies, her grip on the knife unwavering.
“Please, just... give me a chance to make things right.” My words hang in the air between us, heavy with tension.
The silence stretches on, punctuated only by the distant hum of traffic outside and the ticking of the clock on the wall. The scent of stale alcohol and sweat lingers on my skin, making my stomach churn. The weight of Summer’s gaze bears down on me, scrutinizing every move I make.
“Fine,” she says finally, the knife still held tight in her grasp. “Talk.”
“I understand why you’re scared,” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. “I know what I’ve done and can’t change that.”
“Then what do you want, Ciarán?” Summer’s eyes narrow, her grip on the knife never faltering.
“Forgiveness,” I say, my voice cracking with desperation. “I don’t expect you to forget, but maybe you can find it in your heart to forgive what I did.”
“I need a reason why you think I should.”
“Because I’m a fecking asshole who doesn’t know the best thing in his life when he sees her. Or didn’t but does now.”
“Smooth,” she murmurs. “But not enough. You don’t even know me.”
“Don’t I?”
Our gaze locks, and it’s like everything just clicks into place. She is my everything. She is my everything, and I hurt her. How could I do that?
Summer stares at me, her expression unreadable. The tension in the room is palpable, thick like fog, and I can feel the air pressing in around me. The urge to chunder is overwhelming, but I have to keep it together to get through this. To get through to her. If I lose her, I’m as good as dead.
“Summer,” I plead, reaching out to her despite the pain in my hand. “Please...” I choke back the bile, feeling my pulse quicken as I watch Summer’s hand grip the knife. Her eyes are cold and steely, prepared to fight if necessary. Strangely, seeing her like this stirs something, a raw desire I can’t quite control.
“Tinks,” I say softly, my voice revealing the hunger that clouds my thoughts.
She doesn’t respond but continues to stare at me, a silent sentinel waiting for any sign of danger. It’s clear she’s not going to be the one to break this tense silence.
