Page 143 of Devilish Ink

“You love her, don’t you?”

In his voice was a sort of acceptance. There was still hurt, still regret, still even a sort of longing and hope for an answer he knew he wouldn’t get, but most of all there was the dull but steady ground of acceptance.

I said simply, “More than my own life.”

A moment or so later, I heard the crinkling of paper. I glanced over to see Rian pull a folded letter from his back pocket with one hand.

“Ry left this for me,” he said, guilt in his voice as he tapped it against his thigh before holding it out between two fingers. “When she left Dublin Ink.”

It unfolded easily, the edges of the letter well worn, clearly folded and unfolded untold times. Rian cleared his throat.

“‘Rian,’”my brother began as I drove us into the night,

“‘You have no idea how difficult this is to write. Not because I don’t know what to say. I do. I think I’ve known for a long time, like the words were written on my heart.

Liam came to Dublin foryou.

I wasn’t the reason he was in the city. He wasn’t searching for me when he found me.

It was you.

If Liam loves me, and I believe he does, it is only because he loved you first.”

I gripped at the wheel, my knuckles turning white. I didn’t dare glance over at Rian. I was afraid he might stop. Afraid that I’d start crying. Afraid that I’d see him cry.

Afraid, most of all, that the words weren’t real. That I’d look over and realise in my exhaustion I’d been hearing voices. That Rian was asleep, cheek against the icy glass. That Ry never wrote the words that were saving my blackened soul, one after the other.

Drawing in a breath, Rian continued,

“‘That is all there is to say, Rian. Your brother loves you. I know that love might feel like a dagger right now. I know you may not want to hear it. Or trust it. Or believe it. But he loves you.

Because if he doesn’t love you it is impossible that he loves me. And I know he loves me.

Liam loves me.

If you don’t believe him, believe me. If you don’t trust him, trust me. Because, whether you like it or not, I have always loved you, too.

Your best friend always, Ry.’”

I felt my brother’s eyes on me but I kept my eyes on the empty road. For once, it wasn’t raining. I could scarcely dare to breath, waiting for what Rian might say next.

“It’s going to take me a little while…” he said.

I let out the breath I was holding.

It wasn’t acceptance. But it was a start.

“Okay.”

“I’ll need some time.”

“Okay,” I repeated.

Out of the corner of my eye, Rian refolded the letter. He slipped it back with the ease of movement that told me he’d carry that letter for years. The letter had a home in his back pocket. It’d be a weight he’d grow accustomed to. A scar he hardly felt though never forgot.

“If you’re willing,” Rian said, glancing at me, “I mean, if you’re willing to try, you could attend one of my therapy sessions.”

“Yeah?”

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