“And seeing him made me realize that I have a duty to stay here and take care of him. I have to pay off his debts. I have to make sure he gets the help he needs. I can’t be running around on rooftops and dreaming up wild, stupid fantasy futures.”
I release her. She takes the opportunity to put some space between us. I miss her warmth and her scent instantly.
“So you’re sacrificing your life for his,” I grit.
“It’s what you do for the people you love.”
“What about him?” I press. “What about his love for you? What ever happened to reciprocity? You sacrificed your childhood for him. Why can’t he give you this? One chance at happiness.”
“You’re assuming I can only be happy with you,” she says, her eyes turning stony.
“What if that’s the truth?”
She shakes her head and lets out a humorless laugh that might as well be a sob. “You’re a fugitive, Cillian,” she says. “If I leave with you now, I will be as well.”
I stop short.
“What if I don’t want to live the rest of my life on the run?” she demands of me. “What if I want to return to Ireland one day? What if I want to visit my father at some point?”
I have no answers for her.
I’ve been so focused on saving her like I promised that I never stopped to consider the possibility that maybe she doesn’t really want saving.
I’m the one who’s being forced to leave Ireland.
But there’s no bounty on her head.
I take a step back as thought after thought assaults me like a hail of fists.
“Cillian…” Saoirse says. Her voice shivers audibly. “I’m sorry. But I thought we were both just playing pretend. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean anything I said. I didn’t think you did, either.”
Why is she twisting the fucking knife?
She doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’s needlessly cruel.
“You should go now,” she adds softly.
You’d think that her beauty may have diminished in my eyes. But it doesn’t. It hasn’t. It never will.
In fact, the imminent parting only makes her seem all the more beautiful.
All the more ethereal.
All the more out of my reach.
I had the fucking world in the palm of my hand only a few days ago. How could things change so fast so soon? It seems an impossibility.
So I give myself a moment.
Thirty seconds to accept the fact that Saoirse and I had no magical connection. That whatever I thought happened was only in my head.
“Cillian.”
I meet her eyes. I’m surprised to see tears there.
“You need to go.”
I hate it more than I’ve ever hated anything in my entire fucking life. But she’s right.