“What de fuck does dat mean?” The veins in his neck bulged as he leaned closer to my face.

“Exactly what I said.”

“Ye let anot’er man touch ye and I’ll fuckin’ kill him,” he whispered back, angrier than I’d ever seen him. “Go back to school, ye fuckin’ infant.”

He pushed off the wall and stalked away without another word as I leaned frozen against the wall. I hated the way he made all of our decisions, sure, but I knew he was doing what he thought was best. I didn’t know why I’d said those things; I didn’t want anyone else. I’d instantly regretted my words, but my pride refused to let me call out to stop him from walking away.

Instead, I just stood in that alleyway for long minutes, miserable and trying not to cry.

***

I was so late to school, I should have just gone home, but I was too afraid to see Patrick again. I knew that his feelings weren’t uncommon; there were still a lot of men who preferred their wives to be virgins when they married. It just seemed so unfair. Why did he get to have sex with whomever he wanted and was revered for it, while any type of perceived promiscuity on my part would label me a whore? It was so frustrating! That morning when he said he’d known Caitlin, I hadn’t thought about the way he’d said it—like he was one of many she’d had sex with. The only thing that had registered was that she knew him in a way that I didn’t, and that killed me. I just wanted to be closer to him and I wanted to stop feeling frustrated all the time.

I wanted to tether myself to him in that final way so I’d know he wouldn’t leave me.

I barely made it through the day, so unfocused and depressed that I was asked repeatedly if I was okay. I wasn’t, not in any sense of the word. My hands and arms had broken out in hives within the first hour of classes, and the physical discomfort made me even more miserable.

I could barely believe it, but I was beginning to miss the predictability of my life before I’d moved to Ireland. My parents had been awful, but at least with them I’d had a sense of familiarity. I’d been able to navigate that world on autopilot, secure in my position and the knowledge that eventually I’d be on my own and things would get better.

How wrong I’d been about the adult part. Being a so-called ‘adult’ didn’t make things easier, it only meant that your problems were that much harder to solve. By the time I walked home from school, I’d worked myself up to the point that I was ready to apologize to Patrick about everything I’d said and done that morning.

He’d become my best friend, my only friend, outside of his mother. If I was honest, the thought of being with someone else hadn’t seriously crossed my mind. I wanted only him. If I had to make some concessions in order for that to happen, I would do it. The rest of Patrick—the sweet, charming, protective part of him that I knew would never hurt me—was more than worth tolerating the controlling caveman that had made me so angry.

I had to believe that. I had to believe that the good parts outnumbered the bad and, if I was lucky, someday I’d stop worrying myself sick about the thought of waking up to find him gone.

Chapter 16

Patrick

My head was a mess.

There were too many things happening at once for me to focus on just one, and it felt as if, at any moment, I’d completely lose what little grasp I had on my sanity.

I’d been talking with Kevie almost nightly about the shit going on with my Da, and things weren’t looking good. Kevie’s older brother was a pretty high ranking soldier in the fight for a unified Ireland, and the conversations they’d had during brief trips to their mother’s home didn’t cast my da in a favorable light. The thought of Kevie’s older brother coming anywhere near my hometown where Mum or Amy could come across him at any time made my skin crawl, but I was thankful for whatever news I could get.

I still wasn’t clear on exactly what Da had done, but something had happened to make the boys question him. It wasn’t good. Loyalty was a precious commodity among those men, and if you didn’t have that, you may as well have a target painted on your forehead.

We’d also been getting calls to the house at all hours, and the minute Mum or I would answer, the line would disconnect. It was a fucking nuisance at best, and something far more sinister at worst. I wasn’t sure what the person was looking for when they called, but I had two guesses. If it was my da they were hoping to contact, that meant he was in the wind. Not good for anyone. And if it was Amy’s parents, well, I hoped they’d bugger off so we could have some peace. As far as I was concerned, they no longer had a daughter.

On top of all that, classes were starting again soon, and I needed to get back to Uni. My boss at the mechanic shop had let me take the time away, but that wouldn’t last much longer, either. They couldn’t just hold my place indefinitely. It wasn’t the best job in the world, but I liked the lads I worked with and it was easy. I couldn’t afford to let it go.

The thought of leaving my mum and Amy unprotected made my flesh crawl, but I couldn’t stay based on a bad feeling. I had a life, school, and work. I couldn’t just drop those for no solid reason, even though every day it became harder for me to envision going back. But what would I do in Ballyshannon? Work as a mechanic? That wasn’t the plan and hadn’t been for longer than I could remember. I couldn’t support a family on a mechanic’s wage without living like I’d grown up and I’d sworn to do better for myself than my da had. My wife wouldn’t have to work her fingers to the bone to put fucking food on the table, and my children wouldn’t wear handouts from the church.