Shoulders commercial.
“Because I won’t be fighting someone I thought I could trust.” I wipe my lip again. “Or I won’t be fighting someone who thought he couldn’t trust me.”
Poodle’s shoulders sag, and he tosses up his hair again in a messy girly bun. “It wasn’t about that, Skirt. It wasn’t about not trusting you. I trust you with my life. I still do.”
“You know how important it is to me for my brother to fucking confide in me!” I yell, blood and spit flying. “Then ye went and proved I couldn’t be trusted. I couldn’t be confided it. I wouldn’t have told anyone about yer psychopathic killing ways. I would have joined ye, Poodle. I would have helped ye, without question. And then—just fucking forget it. Ye don’t understand.” Shite, I feel like I’m breaking up with a long-term girlfriend or something with how me and Poodle are talking.
He was my brother after my own flesh and blood died, though. Poodle was the first person I recognized as someone who wouldn’t fill Conor’s space or replace it, but he came real fucking close. He doesn’t understand how much his friendship meant to me or how much I needed it to keep me grounded. Poodle was the only one who understood me.
And now?
I’ve never felt more alone.
I’m starting to wonder if my ma was right. It should be me in the ground instead of Conor. No one can confide in me. Not like Conor. That died when he did.
“You don’t think I wanted to talk to you? Do you know how lost I was? How dark I felt? I was afraid to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought I’d lose you as my friend, but it looks like I did anyway.”
“If you two are done having your fucking pillow talk, Prez is calling Church,” Bullseye’s voice cuts through the heart to heart Poodle and I are having, and I’m glad for the interruption.
My eyes meet Poodle’s, then I place my hand on my hips and stare at the wall. “We are done here anyway,” I say and march toward the exit, leaving Poodle behind me.
I’m not even sure what I’m mad about anymore. All I know is that I’m furious. It’s consuming. I can’t stop it. I’m mad at everyone. Everything. I know I can turn around right now and count on Poodle, but my pride stops me. I want nothing to do with anyone. My bare, sweaty shoulder slams against Bullseye, and I don’t bother saying sorry.
“Better watch who you’re running into, Skirt.”
I grunt in return and make my way through the gym, prowling to Church, my footsteps pounding across the hallow polished floors. I yank the door open, and it slams against the wall, the metal rattling my brain. I rip my gloves off with my teeth and throw them on the floor as I walk down the hall that leads to the kitchen.
This place has grown so much since I got here. There are homes that I’ve built by my hands, something I didn’t even know I enjoyed doing until I tried. My hands always need to be busy; that much I’ve learned.
When I kick the door open from the hall to the kitchen, Sarah and Melissa are there, and they gasp when they see how Poodle kicked my arse. I don’t care. Prez calls for Church, I’m there busted nose and all.
“Lassies,” I tip my imaginary hat to them, and their eyes roam my body. They seem shocked that someone got the upper hand on me, but there’s only one person alive who will ever be able to do that, and he has girly fucking hair.
“Skirt,” they say with a tone that’s garbled with disbelief.
The basement door taunts me, reminding me of the time I spent next to the Dawn as she laid there sleeping. Just the memory of her has my heart doing those fucking flips that I don’t have time for. I try to rub the pains out of my fist, but it’s no use. The damn gal has sunk her claws into my heart, and if I spend any more time with her, she’s going to yank it from my chest.
Something about her calls deep to me, the reminder of what home feels like. Not here, but Scotland. Dawn reminds me of the waves crashing against the cliffs, the scent that hangs in the air after it rains, and the way the skies open up after a storm. She’s the day I walked through the rain