Chapter 22 #2
I round the bend just through the gate to find my mother and Evie standing by a silver Honda. But that’s not why my feet grind to a halt. Like a chump, I can’t hide the smile that plasters on my face when I see Morgan, standing with her arms folded across her middle.
When I get closer, I see the upside down look on her face.
Last time I saw that look was the first day I was back here.
It’s less in tune with how she has appeared in recent weeks.
Making my steps slow, I can tell by her tight lips and the way she looks so uncomfortable that something is wrong.
She’s agitated and not glowing with the sense of peace and purpose I’ve come to enjoy seeing on her.
That glow that always makes my chest feel tight.
Speaking of my chest, the thing keeping me upright pounds against my ribs when she sees me. Her eyes light up the way they always do, but her face tells a different story.
“Curly fries?” I make my way closer to her, looking between Mum and Evie.
She backs up, holding her body tight.
Mum steps in front of me, stopping me from pulling Morgan into my arms. “Look who we found walking on her own.” Her eyes widen as she checks Morgan over her shoulder.
“Is she alright?” I ask quietly, taking the opportunity when Evie steps closer to show Morgan something.
Mum nods. “Yes, I think so, love. But she doesn’t seem herself.”
My eyes are fixed on Morgan.
“Paddy?” Mum’s voice is hushed.
I look down at her against my will.
Eyes filled with concern beam up at me. “What are you going to do?”
All I can do is shrug. Honestly, I’ve exhausted myself trying to work out what the right thing to do is. And as much as I try to ignore the niggling sensation in my gut telling me to do more, I sense this is going to be a make-or-break situation.
It’s not going to be like ripping a plaster off. This situation needs time. Care. Attention.
Love.
Mum squeezes my arm with a slight sigh. “I’ll be up at the house if you need me.”
I place a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks.”
Mum turns to Morgan with her arms held open. “Morgan, I’ll see you after the game?”
It’s not really a question.
With grace, Morgan smiles hesitatingly. “Um.” Her eyes dart to me. They’re laced with uncertainty.
“I’m making casserole if that helps sway you.”
Morgan’s quiet, her cheeks turning redder by the second. She looks trapped.
“You can say no,” I quickly intervene. “The game won’t finish until late, anyways.”
Wringing her hands together, Morgan looks at my mum, avoiding me. “Can I let you know?”
“Of course.” Mum beams with a nod, tapping Evie on the shoulder. “Come on, you. You can finish up your school project before we start dinner.”
Evie’s bottom lip pops out. “It’s the holidays,” she groans with a roll of her eyes, reluctantly turning to follow Mum. “And why are we not going to the game later? I was going to make a banner for Uncle Paddy.”
Mum adjusts her bag on her shoulder. “I thought we could go to the cinema, see that new Disney film you were talking about.”
Evie scrunches her face. “The one I was talking about?” she grumbles with distaste. “No, thank you. I want to see Uncle Pads score a hat-trick and win the Gladiator cup.”
Mum mutters something as the pair walk away side by side.
“She needs to stop forcing girly shit on Evie,” I say in a light tone, in an attempt to lessen the pressure in the air floating around us.
“Yeah,” Morgan replies, still not looking at me.
I take a cautious step closer. “Curly fries. What’s wrong?”
“Please, Paddy, don’t call me that.” Her tone is clipped. She looks in pain.
“Did something happen?” I wouldn’t think it possible but my heart races even faster.
She looks over her shoulder.
“Morgan?” I close the gap, towering over her, but her hands fly up to meet my chest. Unlike this morning, she’s creating distance between us. Distance I don’t like.
“Everything’s fine. I’m fine.”
Her words make me finally breathe, but she looks uncertain. “Are you sure?”
She nods, looking at the car she’s standing besides, pausing as if lost in thought. It feels like an eternity, but she eventually looks at me, hands slipping into the back pockets of her jeans. “How did your meeting with Tom go?”
My shoulders slump with my confusion.
For a moment, we stand and stare at each other.
There’s an air of hostility around her.
I could tell her what I was really doing, but I opt for a lie. “Good.”
Coward.
Morgan holds my gaze. “I’m pleased for you, Paddy.”
“Yeah.” My tongue runs over my teeth, mouth turning sour. “So, the game later?”
“I can’t come,” she tells me bluntly.
I get the feeling I’ve fucked up somewhere, but I’m not sure when or how. “Why not?”
I wait for her to process what she wants to say. “I don’t know.”
I’d never let this girl think that what she wants is something she can’t have. “Okay.” And still I wait, looking at her with a soft smile, letting her know that whatever she wants, she’ll get from me.
“Why is that okay?”
My eyes involuntarily narrow. “Come again?”
“Why is me saying that I’m no longer coming to your game okay with you, Paddy?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because we’re friends—”
“Yeah, friends, I got that part.” She glances down; forehead riddled with thick lines.
“Morgan, I’m sorry.” I’m not sure what for but saying it again to her doesn’t hurt as much as seeing her like this does.
Her hands fly up. “Please. Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault for falling for you again.”
My heart bursts.
Again.
Feeling indescribably drawn to her; I have to brace my legs to stop them from moving in her direction. I don’t want to crowd her or have her back away from me any further than she already has.
“You’re not the only one who’s falling here, Morgan,” I tell her gently, still very fucking much here with her, riding these new emotions right by her side.
She runs her fingers through her hair but stops herself from saying anything in response.
When I go to tell her everything, I stop.
The barrier into the yard draws upwards, making a whirring sound that has both of us turning to see who’s coming.
“I should go.” Morgan isn’t composed by any means, but she clutches her bag as if it’s supporting her as she quickly starts walking away.
“Wait,” I say loudly over the sound of the incoming car.
It rolls into the yard, kicking up a little dust.
“No, Paddy. I need to be alone,” she shouts back.
No, that’s the worst thing.
Knowing I should keep her company, I make a split-second decision and run to her. Putting my body in front of hers, she stops walking.
“Paddy, please. I need to go.”
“Just wait,” I throw up a hand, “please. I can take you home or we could go for a walk with Kevin.”
“I don’t want to go for a walk with Kevin!” she blasts, and the sound of two car doors opening can be heard.
I look up and spot Holly’s parents, Pete and Christine, here to collect his car. “Alright.” I take a step back.
I’m frightening her.
Head spinning wildly, I know that booking that test and catching the bus would have been huge for her. She did those things on her own. I thought she was ready. I thought we were getting somewhere.
“Morgan?” Pete angrily yells. “Get away from her.” It takes me a beat to realise he’s talking to me. “Morgan, is everything alright?” His arms swing, making his way to her.
Nothing about this situation will be helping her. I get it, but this fucker needs to leave. I can help her, but not with him shooting death glares at me like I’m the bad guy.
“What did he do?” Pete steps between us, turning his back to me.
Prick.
“I…” She sounds so lost.
He has no idea how much worse he’s making this.
“You’re making her anxious,” I tell him, tempted to pull him back. I won’t because he’s looking out for her, but I need to douse the fucking flames igniting inside of me.
When it comes to Morgan, nothing makes me more protective.
“Morgan, I think you should come with me.” He begins turning her, not giving her any time to think, let alone breathe.
Goddamn him.
“Let her decide what she wants to do. You’re scaring her.” I keep my voice as fucking calm as I can, considering.
Pete sneers at me. “I’m aware of how scared she must be,” his eyes widen, “and you are not helping.”
He’s aware?
He knows she isn’t well?
“Patrick? Your father needs you.”
I hear my mother’s voice before she comes into view. Fuck my life this isn’t what I need right now. This whole situation will implode in a nanosecond if Mum thinks I’m being treated poorly. God love her for passing it on to me, but my mother is who I get my protective streak from.
I know how she’ll react if she comes over here.
Going against my very nature, I know I have to concede for the girl who’s looking at me like I hurt her.
“Will you take her home?” I ask Pete in a rush. If he knows what’s going on, like his actions are suggesting, then Morgan will be safe with him.
He scowls at me like I’m the devil. “If it means getting her away from you I will.” He spins and wraps a protective arm around Morgan’s shoulder.
It pains me to let her go like this.
She turns with him, and my soul sinks, hitting the ground like a dead weight. I want to scream at the top of my lungs that looking after her is my fucking job, not his.
Morgan glances back at me, and I give her a reassuring nod of my head, biting back the agony stabbing my chest. I wish she’d nod back. Smile. Fucking, anything to give me one shred of reassurance that she’s okay.
“Patrick?”
I look up at Mum.
“What’s going on?” She looks at Pete ushering Morgan away from me.
“Nothing. He’s going to take Morgan home.” My head drops. I can’t look at her walking away from me.
“We can do that,” Mum says in a confused tone.
“No, no,” Pete says, passing Morgan to his wife, who’s sympathetically pulling her closer into her arms. “You’ve done enough.”
Mum snaps her head to me. “What happened?”
“I didn’t hurt her,” I force out, the thought alone like a punch to the gut.
“I know you didn’t.” Mum gives me a I’m not stupid look. “I asked you what happened.” She turns to look at Pete. “I thought you were here to collect your car?”
“We are. My problem isn’t with you, Siobhan,” Pete claims. “I pulled up and saw Morgan in need of help.”
“In need of help?” Mum counters questioningly. “From who, Pete?”
He points a finger at me. “From your son.”
“My son?” She squares her body towards his. Jesus Christ. “Are you telling me you think my son would hurt that poor girl?”
Pete doesn’t say anything, clearly not liking the challenge in Mum’s eyes.
“Because I might not know a lot of things in this life, but I know without a shred of doubt that my son would never intentionally hurt Morgan, or anyone for that matter.”
Pete grinds his teeth together, hands landing on his hips. “He said or did something that upset her.”
Mum’s lips part ready to jump to my defence, but I rest a hand on her shoulder. “Let him take her home.”
“What?” she fires at me. “But you’ve only ever looked out for her, Paddy.”
“I know, Mum.” Fuck do I know. “But we have to respect her wishes. If she feels safer going home with them, we need to let her.”
I watch Mum look at the back seat of what is presumably Christine’s car.
Morgan’s watching us talk about her like she isn’t even here.
Mum sucks in a sharp breath of air, her eyes filling with tears. “Paddy?”
Yeah, I know. It fucking sucks.
Pulling Mum closer to me, I train my eyes on Morgan. I know she’ll hear me even though the window’s closed. “Shall I text you later?”
Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.
She eventually nods, giving me what I need as Christine gets into the driver’s seat.
“Will you grab Pete his keys, Mum? I’ll go find Pops.”
Flustered and still visibly shaking, Mum nods her head, pulling out from under my hold. “This way,” she says to him, sniffing as she wipes under her eye sharply.
Making it up to the top end of the yard, Pops is waiting for me by the main gate.
“You alright? Enjoy your nap?” I ask, wondering what he needs my help with.
“I’m grand, son. Got a recovery coming in. Open this gate for me will ya’, lad?”
Pursing my lips, I wonder how this man survives. “Certainly,” I mutter under my breath, wondering why he couldn’t do it himself.
“There’s a delivery here for you.”
“Delivery?” I push the gate open before making my way over.
“Delivery chap didn’t want to leave it. Had me sign for it.”
Feeling the weight of it as he hands it to me, I know what it is. “Finally.” I let out a breath, looking at my old man. “I need to take this up to the house before I come back down. Do you mind?”
He shakes his head, eyeing the package in my hands. “Not at all. What is it?”
Reading the sender’s address on the box, I turn, adjusting my grip on the thing. “It’s too little, too late,” I imagine.
“You what?” he asks, straining to hear me.
“Nothing, old man.” I head towards the house. “I’ll be back in five.”