Page 24 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

Jessie’s Apartment, Hudson Yards, New York

“Thank you.”

I turn to look at her. It’s been a few hours since our conversation with Eoin. As soon as I hung up, I insisted she take me through the searches she needed me to run. The crucial data she had to urgently pinpoint. I know she was reluctant to allow me access to her systems, just as she was reluctant to go back to bed, but I insisted on both. I think she was surprised when I put my foot down and when she realized I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

The roles have well and truly reversed.

“For? Oh, and you have bedhead, by the way.” I chuckle.

With a small smile, she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly and pats down her hair before retaking the seat beside me.

“For putting Eoin in his place.” She was emotional earlier and, despite her best efforts to appear the opposite, she’s still emotional now. We’ve been living in each other’s shadow for over a week. I can read her. And what I’m currently seeing is a raw and exposed Jessie O’Brien.

And I don’t like it. I don’t like seeing her upset. I’d happily commit cold-blooded murder with no family coercion necessary because I’d willingly kill anyone who ever upset her.

More alien feelings.

I turn my attention back to the data manipulation because I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable by staring at her in her moment of weakness.

“You’re working your fingers to the bone, Jessie. It’s not sustainable. Unfortunately, our Eoin never sees these things. It’s not his fault. He has a lot to orchestrate heading an organization as large as ours. I was merely highlighting it to him. To make him aware. Because I do see these things.”

Because I see her. Every day. And I don’t want that to end anytime soon.

If ever.

She’s silent for a moment. Fidgety. It’s clear she wants to say something and she’s thinking how best to word it. She starts flicking through her screens to give her hands something to do, and I know why.

Because she feels vulnerable.

She exhales before she speaks. “This is me, Dyl. Or at least the other me. No one ever gets to see this Jessie. They see what I want them to. The loud, opinionated girl that always wants to be in the spotlight. But I don’t need to be the center of attention when I’m on my own, and that’s when this Jessie is allowed to surface. Unfortunately, this… our having to spend all this time together…. well, I don’t normally spend this amount of time with another person. In fact, I don’t spend time with anyone at all.”

Silence.

I know I have to respond. To acknowledge what she’s said. I guess this situation is a bit like being held in captivity. When you say things you wouldn’t normally. Behave in ways you wouldn’t usually. Show a side you much rather wouldn’t.

Bare truths.

Then I just say it how I see it. “I guess we’re more alike than we both realized, Jessie.”

JESSIE

His response hit the nail on the head.

He’s right. But then, wasn’t that always going to be the case? Being an O’Connell, it was a given that Dyl would have an assertive alter-ego behind that passive exterior of his.

In so many ways, we’re the same. The only difference is I choose to display my strength whereas Dyl chooses to hide behind his weakness. It’s just the role each of us performs best. The skin we’re most comfortable wearing on the outside world.

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” I chuckle as I say the cliché words aloud.

He laughs loudly. It’s a nice sound because it’s heartfelt and genuine. “Are you quoting Emily Bronte at me now?”

“You read?” I raise my head in surprise, immediately disappointed in myself as I do. Because the very thing I hate happening to me, I’ve just done to him. I’ve pre-judged him.

Did he realize?

He laughs again so probably not. “When you’re as reclusive as I am, there’s not much else to do but look at screens, work out, or read. I enjoy the classics.” There’s a pause. “I don’t really spend time with anyone else either so I’m on my own a lot of the time too. But I’m fine with that. You know…being alone.”

His voice fades away. I know why. Because like me, he can say it’s fine, but it’s not. Not really. Not that either of us will ever admit as much.

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