Page 178 of Ryan
Ian and Evan go outside to grab what I presume will be supermarket bags full of shopping. Nick turns to me and says: “I stopped by your house and picked up some stuff for you, in case you were planning on staying here for a while.”
I nod.
“Good, so everyone’s here,” Christine says.
“You’re lucky Mum and Dad didn’t tag along too – I almost had to tie them to the sofa.”
“I can imagine,” Riley smiles.
“Here we go,” Ian and Evan come back into the room, laden with shopping bags.
“That looks like more than enough for one dinner,” Christine comments.
“Well, we held back,” Ian says, grinning, before heading into the kitchen with Evan at his heels.
“What should we do?” Christine asks.
“You’d better go and get dressed.”
“Sorry?”
“Or I’ll have to break Nick’s nose if he keeps staring at you.”
“What? I wasn’t looking at anything!”
“Oh please, don’t kid yourself.”
“So what if I was? She has nice legs – what’s wrong with admiring?”
I shoot him a glare.
“What’s wrong is that you’re looking at my girlfriend,” I snarl.
“Oh, for…”
“Don’t start,” I say, pointing my finger at him.
He mimes zipping his mouth shut.
“Hey,” Ian pokes his head into the living room. “Cut it out, guys. You’re giving me a headache.”
Christine laughs, perfectly comfortable being dropped into the middle of the O’Connor chaos. She isn’t shocked at all by the ridiculous scene playing out in front of her; it would freak anyone out, but not her.
I look at my brothers: always the same overbearing dickheads. But they’re genuine, thoughtful. I look at Riley, ready to pop any minute, but whose beauty could light up a whole city. I look at Evan, who takes everything in his stride, even more than he himself expects. And then I look at her. Her full smile, her round face sprinkled with sexy freckles, her flame-red hair which is sticking up from all angles. The way she is, with other people and with herself: so wonderfullyreal.
I look around at all these people, together, and myself in between them, and realise that, for once, I’m not pissed off with the world. I don’t want to run as far as possible. I feel the chasm in my chest start to dwindle, see something rise from the ashes, casting its light once again over my life.
And, for the first time in years, I can feel that part of me – the one I thought I’d buried forever – claw its way back to the light, pushing aside the hate and the pain, feeding from a supernatural force that I don’t even recognise: but it tastes like hope.
* * *
“So you weren’tthe only victim?” Ian asks.
Christine told us everything the police had said. She was actually one of a handful of victims in a series of attacks through different cafés in town. It looks like the guy also broke into a few houses, maybe hoping to find something more valuable. So, they’re not just dirty thieves: they’re also fucking vandals who seem to enjoy destroying everything they can.
“The whole neighbourhood’s worried. A few streets are even organising night watches.”
“But you have a burglar alarm, right? The house is safe?” Nick asks, concerned.
