Page 165 of Dirty Eoin

Then there’s me. No longer able to get on with mine.

I don’t stop to ask where he is because I know I’ll find him. He’s just down one more corridor, through one more set of revolving doors.

Walk don’t run. How can I walk when I need to get to him?

I need to tell him.

Jesus Christ, what if he can’t hear? What if he never fucking hears again?

Regret and guilt. Words spoken but never heard, same as with Ace.

Please, God, no. They can’t remain unspoken because they’re too important.

“Dylan.”

It doesn’t even sound like me. It’s not my voice. I look around but there’s no one else here but me and him.

Itwasme.

With the voice of someone who’s slowly falling apart.

With the voice of someone who’s just buried one husband and is about to bury another.

With the voice of someone who’s desperately trying to hold it all together as their world comes crashing down around them once more.

I take back what I said. Every goddamn word of it.

I’m a fucking liar.

Love’s not fucking worth it. Love’s not good. Love is evil. Love destroys you.

It rips you into so many pieces that it’s impossible to put yourself back together again. You can try, but you’ll never be the same. The invisible wounds never heal. In the end, you just learn how to plaster over the cracks to keep them hidden below the surface, but you will always be fucking broken.

Ace.

Irish.

Eoin.

I haven’t been lucky in love. I’ve been un-fucking-lucky.

Dylan looks up at me from where he’s sitting.

“What have they said?” I blink because I can’t see.

“Jaine.” His voice is soft and caring, unlike the last time we spoke. When he gave me a talking to for leading his big brother on.

His hand reaches up to my cheek and he wipes away tears that I didn’t even know were falling. I step back, using the back of my hand to hastily wipe them off.

“What have they said, Dylan?”

Fuck emotions. Fuck tears. They won’t bring him back if he’s already dead. If I’m already too fucking late.

It’s then Dr. Kelly turns the corner.

Jesus Christ, anyone but him.

“Miss Jones.” I clearly made so much of an impression on him the first time around that he still remembers my name.

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