Chapter 41
Maeve
Eidolom (n) a phantom or apparition
I wake up to an empty bed. There’s a bottle of water and pain medicine sitting on the nightstand, along with a note.
I toss the note onto the floor. I think I’ll do whatever the hell I want.
I feel like shit, and I don’t think Tylenol and bed rest is going to help.
I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom.
The hardwood is cool under my feet, the tile even colder.
I grab my toothbrush and start to brush my teeth.
The jagged cut on the side of my hand looks angry and raw in the morning light.
I pause, staring down at it, then I hiss at the sting when a trail of toothpaste from my open mouth runs over it.
I thrust my hand under the sink and let cold water run over it, and a wave of revulsion rolls over me when I notice the blood still caked under my fingernails.
I drop my toothbrush and scrub beneath them until my fingertips are almost raw.
Get it together, Maeve. You’ve done this before.
I finish brushing my teeth, find my bag, and throw on some jeans, a t-shirt, and my boots. I braid my hair and head to the staircase. The smell of sausage and bacon wafts toward me as I descend, and my mouth begins to water.
I turn into the dining room and find Saoirse sitting at the table, eating with another woman I don’t recognize.
I take my place at the table and silently fill my plate.
But it’s only when I finally have it full that I realize I’m not all that hungry after all.
I stare down at it for a beat, and the sight of the meat begins to make my stomach turn.
“Were you eating with your eyes and not your stomach?” Saoirse says, and I look up to find her watching me.
“Umm, yeah, I guess I was,” I admit, picking up a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and taking a sip.
“It’s been a long time since I last saw you, Maeve,” the other woman says, and as I look at her again, more closely this time, it hits me.
Laoise.
This is Laoise, the reason Orin had gotten so panicked yesterday.
“Laoise, of course. What’s it been, seven years?”
“Uh, yeah, something like that,” Laoise responds, a flicker of pain crossing her features.
We all pick at our plates wordlessly for a minute or two, then Saoirse breaks the silence.
“Well, last night was interesting.” I look up to see her pointing her spoon at me. “You surprised me, little one.”
“Yeah, okay,” I shake my head at her, my expression hard, not wanting to hear any more lectures about how I can’t handle this.
“I meant it as a compliment,” she says, rolling her eyes at me.
I consider this for a second. “What happened after I left last night, anyway?” Saoirse pauses, putting her spoon down. “I had to listen to Liam tell me what happened to your mother, and I’m glad you weren’t in there for that. I wouldn’t have been able to listen to it if it’d been my mother.”
My stomach drops, and I feel sick, but she seems oblivious as she continues talking, her tone almost casual. “My parents died in a fire set by a Costa. I can’t imagine hearing she was kidnapped and tortured.”
“What do you mean, tortured?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“Fuck, you didn’t know,” Saoirse says, her expression panicked and apologetic.
“You were in there when he told me that it wasn’t a car accident. You knew—” I start, but she quickly corrects me.
“No, Maeve. I had to step out to make a call early on and didn’t come back in until you yelled for someone to shut him up.
I swear. I’m sorry. Shit.” She looks nervous, and I hear chatter coming down the hall.
I stand so quickly that my chair falls, crashing to the floor.
Saoirse stands as well, her hands held up in a placating gesture.
The boys round the corner and stop in their tracks.
“What’s going on?” Callum asks cautiously, walking toward me slowly.
I step back, putting distance between us.
“Did you know?” I ask him, my voice barely above a whisper.
He just looks at me, expression blank. “Did you know what actually happened to my mother? Please tell me, Callum, that you didn’t know.
Please tell me that you didn’t keep something else from me, after everything we’ve been through.
” He knew, and that's why he wanted me to stop last night.
The look on his face in this moment reminds me of how he looked nine years ago, when I found him with Nessa at that party. Stony. Almost cold. I turn to face the others.
“And what about you two, huh? Did you know?” I ask, looking at Orin and Ronan.
But they don’t respond to me either. Rage and betrayal fill me up, a stark contrast to the numbness I felt last night.
I laugh hoarsely, feeling dizzy. “I should have fucking known. God, I’m so stupid.
I can’t believe I actually trusted any of you. ”
I have to get out of here. I try to walk around Callum, but he grabs my arm.
“Let me go,” I say coldly.
“Listen—” Callum starts, but I’m done listening.
“No! You listen. I’m over the secrets and the lies! All three of you,” my voice breaks. “You're no better than Nessa.” I turn and head for the front door, grabbing my purse off the table in the entryway.
“Where are you going?” Callum yells, his footsteps pounding behind me.
“I don’t fucking know, but I can’t be near you right now,” I say, not looking at him.
“Maeve,” he says, a plea. His voice is raspy, broken. But I don’t look at him. I can’t. I refuse to let him off the hook again.
“No, Callum.”
“I’ll go with her,” Orin chimes in, and I whirl on him.
“I don’t think so,” I say, letting venom seep into my voice.
“You can stay here with them and stew in your bullshit,” I grit out, pointing to Laoise.
It’s a low blow. Orin pauses, his face collapsing into a mask of hurt, and some distant part of my conscience screams at me. But in this moment, I don’t care.
“You are not going out alone. I won’t allow it!” Callum's tone is harsh, and his stance is aggressive as he leans down, his face only inches from mine.
I push him away and step back. “You won’t allow it? What are you, my fiancé or my father?” I laugh, unable to believe his condescension. I take a couple of steps back toward him, getting into his personal space now. “You don’t control me. No one does. I’m fucking leaving, no matter what you say.”
He runs his hands through his hair roughly. “Please, Maeve. Let someone go with you,” he begs, trying to soften his voice.
“Saoirse, let’s go. I’m taking the first vehicle with keys, so you’d better hope you’re in the car when I pull out of the driveway or I’m leaving without you, and everyone will just have to get the fuck over it,” I say, turning to the door.
“Fucking go, Saoirse!” I hear Callum yell from inside as I open the second car door.
“I'm fucking going, arsehole,” Saoirse yells back, and I swear I hear a growl from within the house. I don’t give a fuck as I turn the keys to the car, and Saoirse jumps in the passenger seat with only a second to spare as I peel out, distancing myself from that house, from Callum, from the lies and whatever other bullshit I still wasn’t being told about.
It isn’t until we're fifteen minutes from the house that I let the first tear fall. I pull to the side of the road and stare out of the windshield. I slam my fists on the steering wheel over and over until I can’t feel the pain anymore.
I’m sobbing and almost forget that I’m not alone in the car until Saoirse places a handkerchief in my hand.
Does everyone keep one of these in their pocket here?
I take it and clean my face, but I realize she handed it to me because the cut on my hand from last night busted back open.
“Thanks,” I say, dabbing at the blood.
“Don’t mention it,” she responds, looking at her lap. “Why don’t I take you to one of my favorite spots? It’s about another hour out, and we can grab lunch and spend the day away, or night if that’s what you need. I have an apartment there that I use when I need it.”
Not a demand, not a request. Just an option for me to decide.
“You’re driving.” And that’s all I say before I open the door and pass Saoirse as we swap seats.
She slides into the driver's seat and adjusts it slightly to fit her taller frame. I turn the radio on, and that’s when I realize I’d left my phone at the house.
I ask Saoirse for hers and connect it to the car's Bluetooth. I find a Sleep Token playlist and hit play before setting the phone down in the cup holder. We ride in silence for the next half hour, until she speaks, so quietly I almost don’t catch it.
“I’m sorry for causing any issues.”
I don’t break my resolute stare out of the window. “If they hadn’t kept it from me, then it wouldn’t have been an issue in the first place.”
I’m still so angry, but more hurt than anything.
All three of them, and not to mention our parents, lied to me.
I can understand being fed a different story during childhood, but as an adult, I deserve the truth.
Underneath all of that, though, I can’t shake a nagging doubt.
What is it about me that causes everyone to keep me in the dark?
Am I really as fragile as they seem to think?
I’ve been through hell myself, just like most of them had, and I made it out the other side alive.
True, I have a few scars, but who doesn’t? Why don’t I deserve the truth?
“I know, but still,” Saoirse says, breaking my reverie.
She cracks her window, and I look over to see her pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
She sees me looking at them and holds the pack out, offering me one.
I slide one out and roll it in my fingers, waiting for her to pass the lighter.
It has been ages since I last had one. I smoked a lot while I was in college, but Lorcan found out and was not happy with me.
He made me train twice as long each day until I finally quit.