“That’s it,” I announced, storming into Claire’s bedroom later that evening. “I can’t take another second of this tension.”
“Gerard!” she yelped, diving behind the open door of her wardrobe. “Ever heard of knocking?”
My eyes took in the towel at her feet and her damp curls. “Oops.” I quickly slapped my free hand over my eyes. “You were in the shower. My bad, Claire-Bear.”
“Did you actually just storm into my room saying that you can’t take another second of tension?” The sound of clothes hangers rattling filled the air. “How do you think I feel, mister I like to leave notes on girls’ pillows?”
“Clearly, I panicked,” I replied, using every ounce of self-control inside of my body to not drop my hand and peek. “And I didn’t lie in the note, babe. I really was at the gym with Cap.”
“Only because you were too chicken to face me,” she stated, hitting the nail on the head. “I mean honestly, Gerard, could you be more transparent? When have you ever chosen the gym over sleeping in?”
“When I put my fingers in my best friend, that’s when!” I shouted back, throwing my hands up in despair. “I am so fucking sorry about that, by the way, Claire-Bear.”
“Oh my God, why did you bring Reggie over here?” she demanded then, veering off topic. “You know Mam will go mental if she knows he’s in the house. You heard her the last time we brought home that ferret, Gerard. Any more strays and the kittens have to go.”
Huffing out a breath, I turned around and stalked out of her room, not stopping until I was in her brother’s bedroom. “Here you go, my little angel.” Grabbing Hugh’s duvet off the bed, I tossed it on the floor and placed Reggie down on it. “Daddy will be back in a jiffy.”
“Why?” Claire demanded when I returned to her room. The minute my eyes landed on her standing in front of me in an oversized t-shirt, my dick shot to attention. Steady down, lad.
“I don’t know, Claire,” I shot back. “Maybe because I have a heart and wanted the poor fucker to see his mother before he turns in for the winter.”
“No, not Reggie.” She batted the air around her. “Why are you sorry for what happened between us?”
Her question stumped me, and I blanched. “Because!”
“Because?” she pushed. “Was I bad or something?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Last night.” Her hand was on mine then, peeling my fingers away from my eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”
“What? No, Claire, you didn’t do anything wrong. You were perfect.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “I was the one in the wrong last night.”
“Why?”
“Who the hell knows? Maybe it’s got something to do with that chemical imbalance in the brain like Anne is always harping on about. Or maybe I was dropped on the head as a baby,” I admitted, throwing my hands up. “It would certainly explain why I seem to have the self-control of a toddler in a sweet shop.” I shook my head to clear my thoughts before they took me on a little wander. “Either way, I’m the one in the wrong here, okay? Not you.”
“No.” She shook her head and looked up at me. “I mean, why does it have to be wrong?”
“Because … ” My words trailed off as I watched her watch me. There were a dozen different answers to that question, but could I think of a single one? Nope. Fuck my life. “Because I shouldn’t have touched you,” I finally settled on, heart thundering so hard in my chest I thought I might end up with a hematoma on my chest muscle. I knew all about hematomas. I’d had one on my back when I was thirteen. Never had one on the heart, though. Not until now, at least.
“But what if I wanted you to touch me last night?” she said, blowing my world. And then she fucked me over even further by catching ahold of my hand and backing up in the general direction of her bed, taking me with her. “What if I still want you to?”
Jesus. I had no answer to that only to warn her, “That’s a really bad idea, Claire-Bear.”
“Shh,” she purred, reaching up to press a finger to my mouth, and then, because she seemed to be hell-bent on tormenting me, she reached for the hem of her t-shirt before swiftly whipping it over her head.
Oh shit.
Standing in front of me in nothing but a white bra and pink polka-dot knickers, Claire reached for my hand again, encouraging me to close the space between us.
I could only presume that the move was meant to be a seductive one, but when she miscalculated her step and landed in a heap on her bedroom floor instead of her mattress, I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me. “Nice.”
“It’s not funny, Gerard,” she croaked out from her perch on the floor. “Omigod.” Draping an arm over her face, she wailed in despair. “I was trying to be sultry!”
“Are you wearing Barbie knickers?”
“So not the point right now.” Groaning dramatically, she shook her head. “You can leave now.”
Smothering my laughter, I sank down on the carpet and reached for her hand. “Come on, don’t be hiding from me.”
“That was awful,” she complained, peeking up at me through her fingers. “I am so not sexy.”
“You so fucking are,” I corrected, pulling her hand away from her face once more. “But you’re even more adorable.”
She narrowed her eyes in disgust. “Kittens are adorable, Gerard.”
“Then you’re my little kitten,” I laughed, flopping onto my back next to her. “I like your ceiling,” I offered then, pointing to the ivory-colored plaster, as I reached for her hand. “It’s so much warmer than mine.”
“Your ceiling is the same color,” she sighed, entwining her fingers with mine. “At least it used to be.”
“Hm.”
“Gerard?”
“Yeah, Claire-Bear?”
“I’m embarrassed.”
I turned my head to look at her. “Don’t be.”
“Yeah, okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh look. I’m cured.”
I smiled. “What can I do?”
“Uh, let’s see … ” She pretended to ponder for a moment before saying, “How about you try to seduce me and fall on your ass instead?”
“Okay.”
“Get real, Gerard.”
I grinned. “You think I won’t?” Not giving her a chance to respond, I sprung to my feet and made a beeline for her stereo.
“Oh my God,” Claire laughed, hurrying onto her bed, when I whipped off my t-shirt and reached for her pink feather boa.
“You better make yourself comfortable, sweetheart,” I purred, flicking through songs and settling on “5, 6, 7, 8” by Steps. Snatching her sparkly pink cowboy hat off the dresser, I perched it on top of my head and winked. “Because you’re in for one hell of a treat.”
“Omigod, you look like one of those Chippendale strippers,” Claire snickered, clapping her hands together in delight. “Let’s go, cowboy!”
“Yee-fucking-haw.” Throwing shapes like I was fucking the air around me, I flexed my hips, shook my tits, and dry-humped her desk chair like my life depended on it. In a weird way, it did, because this girl was my entire world, and making her feel better was my only priority.
I was certain Johnny and Hugh had far more superior methods of persuasion when it came to making their girls feel better, but I had all the experience of a carrier bag in this department. What I did have at my disposal was a lack of shame, the enthusiasm of a puppy, and hips that rivaled Elvis.
Unable to quit while I was ahead, because I clearly lacked boundaries, I pushed it up a notch and pulled Claire into my arms, dancing her around the room like I was her own personal horse.
“Oh my God,” she laughed, clinging to my shoulders. “Stop, stop, stop, Gerard, I’m going to pee.”
“How dare you!” Lizzie’s furious voice filled the air a moment later, followed by the sound of a door slamming. “How fucking dare you talk to my mother about me!”
“Liz!” Claire yelped, scrambling off my back and rushing over to turn off the music. “What are you—”
“What am I doing here?” Lizzie cut in, picking up a rogue hockey stick and then tossing it against the wall. “What are you doing, more like – as in what are you doing talking shit about me behind my back?”
Whoa.
“That’s not what I was doing! And I wasn’t talking shit, Liz, I swear. I was just … ”
“You were just sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Lizzie spat, roughly shoving Claire away when she tried to hug her. “How fucking dare you tell my mother that! What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was trying to help you!”
“Well, you didn’t help, Claire. In fact, you just made my life a million times worse.”
“Liz, please!”
“No, don’t touch me.”
“I didn’t mean to make it worse for you, I promise. I was just trying to help … ”
“Well, congratulations, because all you managed to do was make an already grieving mother’s life harder.”
“Liz, please … ”
“No! Stop. Dammit, Claire, I don’t want a fucking hug right now!”
“Hey! Hold the fuck up!” I warned, feeling my hackles rise when Claire staggered backwards from the force of being shoved backwards again. “Don’t put your hands on her.”
“Gerard, it’s fine.”
“Like hell it’s fine,” I snapped, moving to stand between them. “Take all the swipes you want off me but keep your goddamn hands off her!”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Lizzie spat. “Good old gallant Gibsie taking another one for the team? Well, fuck you, asshole! I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”
“You’re a bitch,” I hissed, pushing Claire behind me. “Do you hear me? You are a fucking headcase!”
“I’m so sorry,” Claire continued to say, using the back of her hand to wipe her cheeks. “Liz, I swear I was just trying to help.”
Lizzie laughed humorlessly even though tears were trickling steadily down her cheeks, matching the ones falling from Claire’s eyes. “You have some nerve to speak to me like that.”
“Like what?” I demanded. “Like I’m not sorry for you? Well, guess the fuck what, Liz? I’m all out of pity. The well ran dry a long time ago.”
“Yeah?” she sneered. “Well, I’d rather be a bitch than a rapist any day!”
“I’m not a fucking rapist!”
“Nah, you’re just related to one.”
That was it.
That was fucking it.
I couldn’t take this anymore.
“He is not my brother.” My entire body trembled and shook as I glared back at her. “That asshole is nothing to me. He’s not my blood. He’s not my brother. He’s not my goddamn anything, so don’t you dare keep throwing him in my face!”
“He killed my sister!”
“Do you think you’re the only person to ever lose their sister?” I roared, throwing my hands up in frustration. “I lost my sister, too, Lizzie! I buried my sister and my father!”
“They drowned,” she spat. “Accidentally. It’s not the same thing. Nobody hurt them. Not like my sister or Shannon’s mam.”
“Oh, I’m so fucking sorry my family didn’t die in more gruesome circumstances,” I choked out, trembling. “Shit, maybe Beth should have drifted into the motor of the boat after she drowned, at least then we’d have a little blood and gore for the sob story.”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You don’t know what you mean, because you haven’t thought clearly a day since she died,” I shot back. “You’re programed on pain and bitterness. I’ve tolerated your bullshit for years because I knew how you felt. Because I know how it feels. But you crossed the line coming in here and pushing Claire around. Now, the rest of our friends can keep handing out hall passes for your horrendous behavior, Lizzie, but I’m not taking it anymore. Do you hear me? I am not walking this line with you another day of my goddamn life!”
“Jesus Christ, what’s going on in here? I can hear you from the street,” Hugh demanded, storming into the room. “Why are you in your underwear?” he asked, glaring at his sister. “And what the hell are you wearing?”
“Don’t look at me like that,” I huffed when his accusatory gaze landed on me. “I was in the middle of a performance.” Ripping off the boa, I pointed a finger in Lizzie’s direction. “If you want to know what’s wrong, ask her.”
“No, no, no, this is on me, guys. This is all my fault,” Claire blurted out as she quickly threw on her pajamas. “I shouldn’t have gone to her house.” Turning to Lizzie, she said, “I’m so sorry, Liz. You’re right. I shouldn’t have gone to your house.”
“You went to her house?” Hugh frowned in confusion. “Why?”
“Not me,” I huffed, appalled that he would even think such a thing. I hadn’t been to that house in almost six years, and I never planned to step foot inside the door ever again. Not that I would be welcome either way. “Claire.”
“Why?”
“How the fuck would I know?” I threw my hands up. “She just barged in here all guns a-blazing.” Shrugging I added, “This is the first I’m hearing of any of this.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Claire continued, ignoring her brother as she gingerly approached her furious friend. “I’m so sorry if I made things worse for you.”
“He didn’t even apologize,” Lizzie strangled out, entire body heaving with shudders, as her emotions got the better of her. Collapsing in a heap, she stared aimlessly at the floor. “Mark Allen raped his girlfriend. His girlfriend who was my sister. He raped her, and then she killed herself because of it. Because she couldn’t live with what he did. And then he got to walk away and live his life while my sister’s defiled body rots in the ground.” Tears trickled down her cheeks when she looked up at me. “She’ll never get to grow up. She’ll never turn nineteen. She’ll never get married and have children. She’ll never do any of the things he gets to do, and he never even said sorry!”
Frozen to the bone, I absorbed her words like knives to the heart. Because they hurt. They fucking tortured me. Her narrative might be worlds apart from mine but there was no disputing the sincerity in her tone when she spoke her truth. Because she believed her version of events. Meaning nothing I could ever say or do would change or make it better for her.
As she sobbed like a small child on the floor, I felt my beating heart crack and splinter.
There was no fixing this.
Nothing would ever improve between us.
There would be no white flag.
Because Lizzie had her version of events, and I had mine.
She had the horror story versed off by heart, the one that made Caoimhe the victim and him the monster, while all I had was a crumpled-up letter under my mattress and the truth.
“I’m sorry,” Claire pleaded, as she hovered around her friend, petting and coddling her like a mother would to a small child. “It’s going to be okay.”
Unlike earlier, Lizzie didn’t push and shove at Claire’s attempts to comfort her. Instead, she just sat on the floor with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees and sobbed quietly.
“Gibs,” Hugh said, clearing his throat. “Maybe you should … ”
Yeah, I didn’t need him to finish the sentence. Not when I already knew that I was no longer welcome.
She’d won.
Again.
Refusing to bow my head in shame, I walked out of the bedroom with my last shred of dignity in tatters and didn’t stop moving until I was on the other side of the street.
“Don’t start,” I warned the minute I stepped inside and was greeted by a tall figure in the front hall. Reaching up, I swiped Claire’s cowboy hat off my head. “I’m in no form for another lecture—”
“How’s it going, little brother?”
My blood ran cold at the sound of his voice, and I momentarily froze, hands clutching the door handle as a wave of pure, undiluted panic washed over me.
“Gibs? Is that you?” Mam appeared from the kitchen doorway, all bright smiles and full of bubbliness. “Look who flew in a week early from Mumbai to surprise us!”
“You’re back.”
My stepbrother stood in the middle of the hallway with his big arms folded across his chest, looking far less formidable to the seventeen-year-old version of me than he had the seven-year-old. “I’m back.”
Meanwhile, Keith appeared behind him with a stack of photographs in his hands. “Gibs, son, take a look at this beauty,” he said, thrusting a picture in my face. “This is Mark’s wife, Meera, and their son, Yash.”
My eyes took in the sight of the low-sized Asian woman, with a toddler on her hip.
He had a son.
A little boy.
“Mark’s been offered an overseas transfer with work. He and Meera are considering a permanent relocation,” Mam gushed, draping her arms around her husband’s adult son. “Isn’t it wonderful, bubba?”
I could feel the ground shifting beneath me and my world fucking ended. “Relocation?”
“That’s right, son.” Keith nodded in agreement as he wrapped an arm around my mother’s shoulders. “The whole family will be back together soon.”
