Page 24 of Ciaran

“I’m so glad you called,” Mom says, pressing the cup of coffee into my hands. “We’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too. I’m sorry I let so many years go by.”

Mom strokes a hand down the back of my head—a soothing gesture she adopted when I was only a child. Yet it feels so good, I almost regress into that eight-year-old girl. The one with hopes and dreams that involved white knights on stallions, not abusive exes with vicious tongues.

“What happened, sweetheart? Between you and Tanner?”

I don’t miss the hardening of my mother’s tone, or the way her lips press together when she mentions my husband’s name. I can’t tell them the truth, though. What if they trot out a “We told you so”, or “Well, you made your bed”, or even worse, “If you let him treat you so badly, you deserved it”. These are all thoughts I regularly hear inside my own head. I carry enough guilt for allowing Tanner to strip me of my self-respect. If they pile on even more, I’ll crumble.

Or what if they decide to take matters into their own hands and tackle Tanner for his years of abuse? Dad’s doctor put him on blood pressure pills for his heart years ago. I can’t imagine he’s suddenly made a recovery and no longer needs them. The last thing I want is for my mistake to become their cross to bear.

“We grew apart, that’s all. It happens to lots of couples. Not everyone is as lucky as you and Dad,” I add with a teasing grin in an attempt to divert the conversation in a different direction. It doesn’t work.

“And Tanner is okay with this?”

No. I’m sure Tanner is far from okay with this.

I give a nonchalant shrug. I don’t want to outright lie to my parents, but the truth isn’t an option. “He’s disappointed, of course—we both are—but there’s no point staying together for the sake of it.”

“At least you don’t have children to worry about,” Mom says bluntly.

A searing pain flattens my lungs, sending me into a tailspin. Tanner and I had tried for kids in the early days, before he killed the love I once had for him. It hadn’t happened. We never found out which one of us had the fertility issue, because Tanner refused to get checked out. Instead, he’d taken great pleasure in blaming the lack of a baby on me—another transgression to lay at my door.

“I guess so,” I say quietly.

My mother must sense the tone because she hurriedly changes the subject, and we spend the next hour or so catching up on all our news. I tell them about my job at the hotel, my mind briefly straying to Ciaran. He’s exactly the type of man my parents would have wanted for me: hard-working, kind, strong, thoughtful, considerate… protective. All perfect attributes in a partner. Instead, I ended up with a bitter, cruel, heartless, selfish man.

Not any longer. I’ve escaped, and as each day passes, I edge closer to the woman I was meant to be. Taking the initiative to reconcile with my parents is a step in the right direction.

After our drinks, I put them in a cab with a fervent promise to meet up again soon. My mom waves out the back window until the cab turns a corner and they disappear from view. I set off for home, but I’ve barely taken a few steps when a large hand grips my elbow.

I turn around, the blood draining from my face, and urge my legs to run, but there’s nowhere to go.

“Hello, wife,” Tanner says.

Chapter 10

Ciaran

My legs ache from being on my feet for the last twelve hours, and every vertebra in my spine feels fused together. It’s been a shitty day. One where I wonder if my efforts make one bit of difference to the eventual outcome. No matter how many months and years pass, I’m still arresting young kids who’ve made a bad decision that will affect the rest of their lives, and picking up lifelong criminals who were released from prison less than a week ago.

Is it really worth the effort?

I hope it is. For every person swallowed up by the system, I have a chance of saving another, of pointing out an alternative path to the one they’re on. I have a chance to remind them they have choices.

I need a vacation, that’s all. Maybe I should take the boat out. I haven’t found the time to do that for a while, and I’m paying a hefty sum each month in mooring fees. May as well make use of it.

I consider asking Millie whether she wants to go out on the river for the day. I’ve kept a polite distance since my fuckup a few weeks ago, while praying she’ll make the first move. Except she hasn’t. When she reappeared in my life, I’d had my hopes raised of a third chance with her—even though I could hardly call the first two “chances”. Standing aside while not one, but two other guys swooped in and stole the woman I wanted didn’t make me gallant. It made me a dick.

Promising to keep my distance and give her space to work through her shit isn’t working. Perhaps it’s time to ease out from the shadows and get her to notice me. In high school I hadn’t even tried to tell her how I felt, and look how that worked out. If I continue acting the same way over and over, I’ll get the same damn result.

Decision made. I’ll ask her to go sailing with me, and if she says no then fine, but at least I’ll have tried.

I stop off at a grocery store close to home to pick up dinner and a six pack of beers. As I leave the store I spot Millie across the street, and my spirits lift. I’m about to jog across to meet her when a tall, broad guy steps out from behind her, his hand firmly at her elbow.

My body tenses as blood rushes to my head, and white spots dance in front of my eyes. Fuck’s sake. I’ve read her wrong. All this time I’ve been giving her space to get over her broken marriage, hoping she’ll notice me. Instead, she’s already moved on to someone else. Yet again, my unwillingness to step up and take what I want means I’ve missed out for a third fucking time.

Hands fisted at my sides, I turn away, my plan of a quiet night shifting into finding the nearest bar and getting blind drunk. I take two steps, but something makes me hesitate, and I pivot, peering closer at the guy she’s with. His head is bent, and he’s wearing a navy-blue baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He’s murmuring something in her ear. She stiffens and tries to break free, but the guy tightens his grip as his head rises and he glances left and right, allowing me to get a good look. A shot of ice rushes through my veins.

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