And then she cracks my heart in two.
“Cillian… I can’t.”
“What are you talking about?” I balk. “Of course you can.”
She shakes her head, her irises blurring behind tears. “No. It’s not possible anymore.”
“Saoirse…”
She pulls her hand out of mine and takes a step back. “You need to leave, Cillian. Right now.”
“Not without you,” I reply, my resolve hardening as I scrutinize her features.
There’s a level of anxiety that clings to her now. Her eyes are devoid of the brightness they used to hold.
She looks almost ghostly. All her spark and fire is gone as though someone has beaten it out of her. Snuffed her blazing spirit. Tarnished her jaded soul.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” I demand.
She sighs. “Nothing’s going on,” she says. “Cillian, we were so naïve. So stupid—”
“No,” I say fiercely, shaking my head. “Hell no.”
All I can think is, Who managed to get inside her head?
I can see how much it’s killing her to push me away. But she’s doing it—and with a determination that I can’t quite understand.
“Is someone threatening you, Saoirse?”
She drops her head before I can read into her reaction. When she looks up again, she seems so tired. So frustrated. So defeated, like she’s been worn down by an endless battle and she’d rather give in than keep fighting.
“I know it’s easier to believe that than to believe the truth, Cillian,” she says. “But I’m going to need you to listen to me. The other night—”
“Meant something,” I interject stubbornly.
“It didn’t,” she denies with biting confidence. “Maybe it meant something to you for now. But I suspect that a few months down the road, you won’t even remember my name.”
I rear back. “Is that really what you think of me?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know you.”
“Yes, you fucking do,” I insist. “You know everything that matters.”
I grab her hand again and pull her to me.
She’s not expecting it, so she slams into my embrace. Her aqua-blue eyes go wide with shock and for a second, I think I can crack the veneer. The distance between us.
But then she blinks and the resolve is back.
She pushes my chest, but I refuse to let her go.
“Cillian!” she hisses through gritted teeth.
“Talk to me,” I demand. “Tell me the truth. What happened after you left the rooftop?”
“Nothing,” she insists. “I went to the hospital to see my father.”
“And?”