Page 143 of Unholy Obsession

Moira.

No, that’s not true. She wasn’t theonlygood thing I’ve had and lost.

A face flickers behind my eyes. Another loss. Another woman I failed.

My mother.

I inhale sharply, forcing my fingers to unclench from around the glass before it shatters.

I spent years resenting her. Hating her. Believing she abandoned me. That she left me behind without a second thought.

She hadn’t.

She loved me. And I was too much of a selfish, angry little bastard to see it.

I close my eyes, swallowing against the tightness in my throat. She was good. Too good for the life she was handed. Too good for the son she had.

I never let myself grieve her. Not properly.

Grieving felt like a privilege I hadn’t earned.

I was a shit son. I didn’t fight for her. Didn’t tell her what she meant to me when she was alive. And by the time I was ready to stop being a fucking coward, it was too late.

Am I making the same mistake with Moira?

Did I not see her?

The thought grips me like a vice, squeezing so tight I can barely breathe.

I should’ve seen it. Should’ve fucking felt it in my bones. She wasn’t right today. Her eyes were wild, her body vibrating with an energy that wasn’t hers. I was so obsessed with keeping her and holding her down and making her stay that I didn’t stop to ask the one question that mattered.

What did sheneed?

Not me. That’s for fucking sure.

She ran from me like the devil was at her heels. Like I was the devil.

I drag a hand down my face. It’s not the first time I’ve been someone’s worst nightmare. But this—this is different.

Because she wanted to stay. I know she did. I felt it in every desperate kiss, every shuddering breath, every broken gasp of my name.

But she still left.

I frown, the pieces shifting, rearranging. Something doesn’t fit. Something is wrong.

The excuses she threw at me weren’t real. They crumbled the second they left her lips. A woman like Moira doesn’t run from what she wants. She grabs onto it with both hands and holds the fuck on.

So why did she let go?

Something elsewasgoing on.

I grit my teeth. The answer is there, just out of reach. Taunting me.

I slam the whisky back in one burning gulp and set the glass down with a sharp crack.

But I don’t move.

My instincts scream at me to act. To track her down. To hunt, to chase, to take what’smine. That’s what Dad always said to do, right? You want something, you take it. It’s what I’ve always done. It’s what I know.

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