Page 104 of Stolen Rival
She nestles closer. “I’ve a lot to learn.”
“It’s okay,mo mhuirnín. We have the rest of our lives to bring you up to speed.”
The sigh that spills out of her is steeped in contentment. I press her closer. If I had my way, I’d crawl inside her skin and never leave.
“Can I ask you something?”
I kiss her hair. “Of course?”
“Why don’t you drink?”
I freeze, assaulted by sorrow and grief and shame. I’ve only ever told my brothers the real story of what happened the night my parents died, and they somehow found it in their hearts to forgive me.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Maybe you just don’t like the taste.”
My arms tighten around her. “If you thought that was it, you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No.” Her voice is soft, quiet. “It feels like it’s a deliberate choice. I just can’t figure out why. Especially since your brothers both drink, and Cillian…”
Taking a deep breath, I begin. “When I was twenty, I was dating this girl, Beatrice. It wasn’t serious between us, but shewas fun to be around. Boy, she had an uncontrollable temper, though, and back then, I did, too.” I give her a knowing look. “I guess I have a type.”
I close my eyes, the memories of that night crowding in, throttling me. This is why I don’t let myself think about it too often. It’s fucking agonizing. But Sorcha deserves to know my secrets, even the ones that have left a trail of tar in my lungs.
“One Friday night, we went to our local pub. I drove so that Beatrice could have a drink. She’d recently started a new job, and her boss was giving her shit, so she wanted to wind down. About four vodkas in, she started an argument over nothing. I shouldn’t have reacted, but like I said, back then I had a hell of a temper I was too immature to know how to contain. The argument escalated into a blazing row, and she stormed off with one of her friends who was there, too.”
I pause, gathering my thoughts. Sorcha doesn’t say a word, and I appreciate that more than I can express.
“I didn’t go after her, which is what I should have done. Instead, I let my anger take over and ended up getting shit-faced. I must’ve had at least a half bottle of whiskey that night. There was no way I could drive home safely, and my father had drilled into me the dangers of catching a cab, especially after what happened three years earlier when one of his enemies managed to snatch me. So, I did the only thing I could do. I called Dad and asked him to come and get me.” I ruefully shake my head. “He was not happy, but told me to stay put and he’d be there soon.”
She shifts her position, her eyes locking with mine, an unasked question swirling in her ice-blue eyes.
“I waited an hour, but he never showed. Just as the landlord was closing up, my phone rang. It was thepolice. My parents had been involved in a head-on collision with a drunk driver. They died instantly.”
“Oh, Patrick.” She presses the flat of her hand to my chest, directly over my racing heart. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t even know why Mam was with him. The only thing I can guess is that she wanted to be there in case things got heated. My father and I were very similar characters, and Mam was usually the peacemaker. He made it clear on the phone he wasn’t happy with me calling him to come and rescue me, so she probably thought there’d be bloodshed if she wasn’t around to step in between us.”
My throat tightens. The guilt, the grief, the goddamnshamegnawing the hollow space inside me carved out the day they died.
“But that’s what parents are for.”
I swallow, my skin raw. “Yeah, when their kids are kids. Not when they are grown men. I swore two things that day: that I’d never again let a drop of alcohol pass my lips, and that I would never lose control. For me, the correlation was set that night. I lose control and bad things happen.”
Her small palm touches my cheek. “You know you can’t control everything, though.”
“No. I don’t know that. Or rather, I didn’t until you came along and wrestled control from me at every turn.”
“And yet I’m still here, alive and well.”
“Barely.”
“Patrick, you are not to blame for Andrew’s actions, nor are you to blame for a drunk driver taking your parents from you.”
“If it wasn’t for me, Andrew would never have been in this house and my parents wouldn’t have been on that road.”
She opens her mouth to speak, probably to try to convinceme of the impossible, but I touch a finger to her lips. “Don’t, Sorcha. Nothing you say will change my beliefs. I’ve learned to live with the guilt.”
She pauses, and I wait for her to come back at me with platitudes. Instead, she nods, nuzzling my neck. “Thank you for telling me. It helps me to understand you better.”
