Page 60 of The Voices are Back

I’d miss any package as long as it came with never hearing from my so-called “father” again.

And a thought occurred to me in that moment as I stared down at my hairbrush that I’d put down sometime in the middle of my phone call with my fath— Gus.

All this time, had Aodhan thought that I’d never called him? Had he thought that I’d just left, never to be heard from again, and hadn’t taken a single glance back?

Had I inadvertently made it to where he thought that he wasn’t good enough? Had I made him think that, after all our time together, that he wasn’t worth fighting for?

Did he know what it meant that my phone had been blocked from calling him? Did he know that I would’ve never given him up? That I would’ve stayed in touch? That I would’ve come back way sooner than I had, had I known that he hadn’t blocked me?

Had I known that he would’ve welcomed me with open arms, I would’ve come back, and I would’ve known that deep down, he was putting on a brave face. That he was hiding the fact that he never wanted to let me go.

I deflated.

I had let him go.

I hadn’t fought for him at all.

“Okay,” I said to myself in the mirror. “You’re going to stop acting like this is about to end at any second. You’re going to convince him that this time, he’s good enough. This time, you’re going to stay, and you’re not ever going to leave. You’re going to grab him by the proverbial horns and tell him that he’s the one for you. And y’all should give this a try.”

“Are you done in there?” Folsom asked from the other side of the door.

My eye twitched. Did it surprise me that she was inside a house she’d never been to before? No.

I yanked open the door, and glared at her. “Where have you been?”

“Working,” she said.

“Why are you working there?” I asked, yanking my bag toward me, throwing it open, and observing the contents inside of it.

Yesterday, when I’d packed, I’d been a different person. I’d been “let’s wear whatever makes you comfortable” Morrigan. Today, I was “I want to look hot near Aodhan” Morrigan. Those were completely different girls with completely different fashion styles.

She shrugged, picking up the black leggings, a pair of hot-pink panties, and a black t-shirt off the bed before handing it all to me.

Aodhan’s t-shirt.

It would be absolutely massive on me—even back in high school his shirts had been massive—but it would be comfortable. And it somewhat appeased the whole ‘you need to look good for him’ thought process I had going on at that moment in time. Maybe seeing me in his clothes would please him…

“I was bored,” she admitted as she watched me get dressed. I didn’t bother to hide my nakedness from her. We’d moved beyond the point of being surprised when we saw each other’s naked bits. “But working there is a whole lot like actual work, and you know how I am.”

I did know how she was.

Folsom liked to do stuff that was fun. She’d do this job at the vet clinic at most a week, then she’d say, “okay, well, that was fun,” and move on. Only, those sweet women that were dating two of Aodhan’s club members would suffer.

“You can’t allow them to think that you’re there, when you’re not,” I ordered.

“I already told them that I had another job. They only call me in when it’s a true emergency. Like today. Yesterday. Whatever. Both of them were out with the stomach bug. Which I hope that I don’t catch. I avoided it last week with my kid. I had to stay in their clinic all day and night with a can of Lysol. I don’t think I can handle getting sick. I don’t like vomit.” She scrunched up her nose.

I made a cross with my fingers and said, “The power of Christ compels you.”

She snickered and whirled around, her eyes studying her complexion in the mirror.

“I’m probably gonna be okay,” she said. “I would’ve had it already if I were going to get it.”

She did have a point. Last week, her daughter had been projectile vomiting everywhere. She’d hired some cleaners out of Intercourse, Texas, of all places, who actually worked on crime scene cleanup of all things, to come and deep clean her house after the “incident.” Had she been going to get it, the likelihood when her kid was using her as a pillow in the middle of puking sessions definitely would’ve been when she was going to get it.

“Okay,” I finally said. “Why are you here?”

“Because your dad sold you to the devil?” She rolled her eyes. “And you’ve had a lot of trauma goin’ on in your life. I would be a horrible person if I didn’t check up on you.”

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