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“Baby.”
“Mm,” she moaned in approval before resuming teasing my tongue with hers.
Could people get arrested for kissing in swimming pools? It was something I was going to have to search up. Because the way her tongue was skillfully massaging mine in such an erotic manner, yet in such a public setting, made it feel illegal.
Just when I felt like I was drowning in her kiss, she ripped her mouth from mine and whispered, “I have dirty thoughts, Hugh.” Pressing her lips to my ear, she traced my earlobe with her tongue before saying, “Filthy urges.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I hissed out a breath when I felt her teeth on my neck. “I have plenty of those, too.”
“Do you touch yourself and think about me?” she stunned me by whispering in my ear. “Because I do.” Her tongue was on my ear again. “I push my fingers inside my underwear and pretend it’s you inside me again.”
“Fuck me.”
“That’s what I pretend you’re doing to me,” she continued to torment me by whispering. “Is that bad?” I felt her shiver in my arms. “Am I bad person for craving those things?”
“You’re not bad,” I replied, forcing her to look at me and instantly recognizing the look in her pale-blue eyes as one of uncertainty. “You’re just horny.”And so am I.
“The doctors keep asking me about it,” she offered then. “Whenever I have an appointment, they bring it up.”
“What?” I frowned. “They bring uphorniness?”
She nodded slowly. “Apparently, it can be a sign.”
“Of what?”
“An incoming episode.” She swallowed deeply. “It can be common for teens with bipolar.”
“I think feeling horny is common for all teens, Liz,” I said, trying to soothe her. “Bipolar or not.”
“I don’t want it to happen again, Hugh,” she admitted quietly while her gaze dropped. “What happened last summer.” Another shiver racked through her body, and she sighed heavily. “I just want to be normal.”
“What did I tell you about normal?” I asked her, determined to put on a brave face while my heart broke inside. “Hmm?”
“It doesn’t exist.”
“Exactly.” Stroking her nose with mine, I pressed a kiss to each of her cheeks before pecking her lips. “And whatever this is”—I pulled back to look in her eyes—“whatever we’ve built, with your mind and mine, iseverythingI want.”
THE DARK DAYS AREN’T OVER
Lizzie
DECEMBER 25, 2002
THE SOUND OF MY PARENTS SCREAMING HAD INTENSIFIED TO THE POINT WHEREIWASglad that we lived on such a sprawling property. If we had neighbors living closer, the Gardaí would have been at the door.
Numb, I sat with my back to my bedroom door, listening to the accusations being thrown back and forth on the landing.
Nothing they were accusing each other of was new to me. I’d heard these fights a hundred times before, but the holidays always brought out the worst in my parents. Because it brought out the pain.
Sitting around the table for Christmas dinner with my sister’s empty chair was a stark reminder of how we would never be a family again.
It didn’t matter how well things went or how hard I tried.
I would never be enough for them to be happy.
I would never be enough for my father.
PLUCKING UP COURAGE
