It had taken a couple of hours for that blankness to dissipate.
“Yeah, Sonaro means business,” Fionn said, pacing the length of the room, phone still in his hand. “We had a couple of run-ins not long after I left Ireland, in the Middle East. I didn’t tell him about the gold or this situation might’ve turned out very differently.”
The gold would be handed over to the garda. Lyse wasn’t sure exactly what tale Mack was spinning to mesh all of this together and have it make sense, but she knew whatever he was saying was working. The garda weren’t looking for Fionn. Sonaro and his men had melted into the forest as if by magic. All in all, it had worked out exactly as they’d planned.
So why didn’t she feel satisfied? Relieved? She should be glad their mission had succeeded, but that sense that she could lose herself crying for the next week and a half wasn’t going away.
“Was Siobhan all right?” she asked.
“Fine,” Fionn said absently. “King’s taking her back to Mack’s.”
She’d known that—she’d been standing right here as he talked to her—but really what Lyse wanted was Fionn’s focus, not his answer. Unfortunately his focus was on Mack, as it should be, not on babying her over the emotional hump she’d somehow face-planted into.
Unable to keep the calm facade intact a moment longer, she crossed the room and began to rummage in her bag. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
Both men nodded her way, barely seeming to register her words. Lyse slipped into the bathroom, locked the door, and leaned against it.
The first tear slid down her cheek.
With shaking hands she stripped off the clothes she’d worn in the woods and kicked them into the corner. With every tug, every pull, another tear fell and the lump in her throat got bigger. The throbbing at her temples beat at her, hounded her, refused to let her think about anything but the rhythm that echoed in her head, the racing of her heart. When she climbed into the tub, hot water hit her thighs, belly, chest, face, and she closed her eyes, letting it pour over her, cleanse her of the dirt and sweat and fear and adrenaline. The tears she couldn’t seem to control. She stuffed her fist hard into her mouth and let everything out, and yet, even when she could breathe again, she didn’t feel relief.
Water was supposed to wash away dirt. Why couldn’t it wash away sins? Or consequences? Why couldn’t they go back a year and let her gather her courage in both hands and approach the man she’d always wanted? Have a soft place to land when threats had arrived out of nowhere? Instead she’d made a decision that destroyed her life. Yes, she’d ultimately come to know what living truly was, discovered the joy of being in Fionn’s arms. Now it would all be taken away again.
Fionn had told her just a few hours ago, in the bed on the other side of the bathroom wall, that he wouldn’t be taking her back to the States when this was over. And now it was over. For a little while after Fionn found her, she’d felt clean. Now she was going back into hiding, going back to running. A world where she’d never be clean again. Was that really what she wanted?
How the hell did she live without him beside her? Could she survive the rest of her life on the run, with no Fionn, alone? Because if she knew anything at all, she knew no one would ever take his place. No man could make her feel what he had. Could she walk away from that?
But she had to, right? If she went back, she’d have to face the consequences of her actions, have to go through a trial, jail. Would Fionn stay with her through all of that, help her fight? Would he forgive her all over again when everyone else stared at her with accusation in their eyes?
What was the alternative? She thought back to all the lonely nights she’d endured, watching the people she cared about live their lives without her. Watching Fionn give what she’d so desperately wanted to other women. She squeezed her eyes shut, hung her head until the water pummeled the back of her neck. She wouldn’t want to look, just like she hadn’t before, but she’d look anyway. Just like before. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself if there was the remotest chance she could see his face, watch him move. And every single time, it would rip her heart to shreds.
He hasn’t said he loves you. You know he’ll move on.
The hard knot in her stomach surged upward, and she bent over to empty what little was in her stomach onto the shower floor. When the spasms died away, she rinsed the tub, rinsed her mouth with warm water, then leaned against the tile and tried desperately to breathe.
She couldn’t bear to go back to that, to ripping her heart out over and over. Fionn’s forgiveness in the car…that had felt so good. She had felt good for the first time in a long time. Like her heart had been scrubbed clean, not with soap and water, but with love. The washcloth in her hand could never wash away the stains on her soul.
And Fionn’s forgiveness had started the process, but he couldn’t finish it. Only she could.
Stepping out of the tub, she dried hastily, her hands still shaking, this time for a different reason: fear. She found herself leaning against the sink, her fists planted on the counter, her gaze meeting itself in the mirror. Her eyes stared back, wide and pain-filled and terrified. And knowing. Because as scared as she was, she wouldn’t be able to face herself in the mirror until she faced her past, just
