Page 103

I BELIEVE YOUR DAUGHTER

Hugh

MAY 3, 2000

“Y OU HAVE A LOT OF NERVE SHOWING UP HERE , H UGHIE ,” were the first words Michael Young said when he opened his front door and found me on his doorstep on Wednesday morning.

I couldn’t blame the man for his hostility. Not when I had witnessed the showdown at his eldest daughter’s funeral two days ago. My oldest friend’s stepbrother had been accused of raping my girlfriend’s sister. My parents had taken the side of said oldest friend’s mother, which meant, to this man, that I belonged to the enemy camp. But I also couldn’t be held accountable for the actions of others.

When everything went to shit at the graveside and Liz and I were ushered away in opposite directions, I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I had to leave with my family. I also wasn’t given the chance to speak my mind at the graveside, either—although, that was something I had made up for later.

When we returned to our street and were shooed upstairs to Gibsie’s bedroom so the grown-ups could talk in private, I’d lost my shit and stormed downstairs.

Aside from blowing a head gasket when I heard Sadhbh talking about my girlfriend in a less-than-favorable light, I’d lunged for Mark the moment he returned from the Garda station with his father.

My momentary slip in sanity cost me a broken nose—courtesy of Mark—and a lifelong ban from number nine—courtesy of his father.

It was worth it, though, and I would gladly take a dozen broken bones if it meant that I got to hit that prick again.

Better still, Dad had taken leave of his senses when he saw the condition of my face and had beaten seven kinds of shite out of Mark for putting his hands on “his child.” I wasn’t too happy about being referred to as a child, but I couldn’t deny the solid my father had done for me. After all, Dad had been given a lifelong ban from number nine right along with me.

Everything had gone to hell on my street, and I knew I was taking a gamble cycling over here, but how the hell could I not?

I refused to abandon her.

No matter what .

“Why don’t ya go back to Avoca Greystones?” Mike continued to seethe, looking more broken than he had at his daughter’s funeral. “Hmm? Run on back to the Allens and defend their rapist, bastard son like your parents have decided to.”

“I’m not my parents,” I said calmly, steeling my resolve. “And I’m not that rapist bastard, either.”

My words seemed to throw Lizzie’s father and give him pause for thought. “What are you saying, Hugh?”

“I’m saying I believe my girlfriend,” I replied, pouncing on the temporary crack in his resolve. “I believe your daughter, Mike,” I told him, straightening my shoulders to make myself look as grown-up as I could. “And I came here to tell her exactly that.”

Mike blew out a breath and I watched as the tension slowly left his rigid shoulders. “Well then.” Stepping aside, he held the door open. “You best come inside, son.”

The first thing that greeted me when I reached the landing was the high-pitched, wailing noises coming from behind Caoimhe’s closed bedroom door.

Instantly, I recognized the disturbingly unnatural sobs as those of a grieving mother. Only once before had I heard keening like that, and it had come from Sadhbh Allen when Bethany died. The excruciating keening sound that came out of a bereaved mother when her child died was hauntingly distinctive and something I hoped like hell I would never have to endure for a third time.

Repressing a shudder, I moved straight for Lizzie’s room, trying to block out her mother’s pained cries. When I slipped inside, I didn’t bother to knock because I knew there was no point. My girlfriend was lifeless on her bed, dosed to the high heavens with God knows whatever the doctors had prescribed to numb the pain.

Moving straight for her, I kicked off my shoes and climbed under the covers next to her. “Hi, baby, it’s me,” I heard myself whisper and then quickly frowned when I realized the endearment that had escaped my lips. Whoa. I’d never called Liz that before. Even stranger was the fact that it felt right . Like I was supposed to call her that.

“Hi,” Liz whispered, still staring lifelessly at the ceiling above her, as tears trickled down her cheeks. “I can’t turn my head.”

“That’s okay,” I replied, reaching for her. “I can do it for you.”

“They gave me an injection,” she croaked out when I rolled her onto her side to face me. “Another one.” Puffy blue eyes greeted me. “I can’t feel a thing.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” I offered, resting my hand on her cheek. “You’ve felt enough pain, Liz.”

“I want to feel you,” she whispered, eyes locked on mine. “And I can’t.”

“You can’t feel me now?” I asked, stroking her cheek.

“No,” she replied as another tear fell from her long lashes.

“That’s okay,” I replied gently. “I can feel you.”

“You can?”

“Yeah, I can, Liz.”

“How do I feel?”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“You burn me,” I admitted, stroking her cheek. “In the best possible way imaginable.”

She seemed to think about that for a moment before asking, “Does anyone else burn you?”

“No,” I replied, wholly fixated on her face. “Only you.”

“Really?”

“I swear on my life.”

“Oh God.” Her chest heaved. “I’ve missed you so much, Hugh.”

“I’ve missed you more, Liz,” I replied, battling down the tsunami of emotions rising up inside of me.

“I’ve made everything a million times worse,” she confessed then, chest rising and falling quickly. “I broke my parents.”

“No, you didn’t,” I coaxed, shifting closer so I could press my brow to hers. “You didn’t break anyone, Liz. That was all him.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “You believe me?”

“Of course I do,” I replied thickly. “And I am so damn sorry for how everything went down at the funeral.” A pained breath escaped my parted lips. “I wanted to go with you after the fight, I promise I did, but my parents forced me home.”

“Nobody else believes me, Hugh,” she strangled out, blue eyes widening. “But I’m telling the truth, I swear.”

“I know you are,” I replied gruffly, hating the tremor in my hand when I smoothed her hair off her face. “And that’s not true, Liz. Your parents believe you, too.”

“Only because they’re my parents,” she whispered, expression falling. “Only because it’s easier to blame him than me.”

“Why would they blame you?”

“Because I’m me,” she strangled out. “Because I was there and didn’t stop her.”

“How were you supposed to stop her?” I pushed in as gentle a tone as I could muster.

Lizzie blinked in confusion. “I stopped her?”

My heart cracked and I did the only thing I could in this moment; I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek before whispering the words, “I love you,” in her ear.

The events of that night were still a mystery, and I knew Liz held a lot more information inside her complicated mind than that lying bastard had given the authorities. The only problem was Lizzie’s memories were fractured, fragments that needed to be carefully pieced together, and only time could restore them. How much time, I had no idea, but if I pushed her now for more than she was capable of divulging, she would slip back inside her mind, and I would lose her again. I refused to do that because, selfishly, I wanted to keep her healthy more than I wanted to know the truth.

“Your nose,” she whispered then, focusing on my face. “Your eyes.” Her breath hitched. “You’re bruised all over.”

“I’m grand.” I dismissed her words with a smile. “You should see the other fella.”

“Who hurt you?”

“No one, Liz.”

“Was it me?”

“You?” My brows furrowed in confusion. “No, Liz, of course it wasn’t.”

“Oh.” She seemed to heave a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for something you didn’t do,” I told her, capturing a rogue tear with my thumb. “Besides, I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“For leaving you after the funeral.”

“But you came back.”

“Two days later, Liz.”

“But you still came back, Hugh.”

“I’ll always come back to you,” I offered, wanting to fold her into my body and keep her safe. “No matter how often I have to leave, just know that I will always come back for you.”

“To me or for me?”

“Both.”

“Good, because you’re the only reason I’m here.”

“Don’t, Liz.” My heart cracked. “Please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.” Her expression caved and she clenched her eyes shut to stem her tears. “I think fate got it wrong.”

My brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I’m the one supposed to drown, not her,” she explained. “I’m going to die in water, Hugh.”

“Liz.” My entire body tensed. “Why would you say that?”

“Because of my dream.”

“What dream?”

“The one where I’m trying to swim to the surface and someone is pushing my head under.”

“Holy shit, Liz.” I couldn’t hide my horror. “How long have you been having that dream?”

“Since as far back as I can remember,” she whispered. “The person holding me under screams at me to stop fighting, to just give up and breathe.” A full-body shudder racked through her. “When I do, I die, and that’s when I wake up.”

“That’s horrendous.”

“I think it’s an omen,” she admitted, sounding broken. “That I was never meant to be here…that I’m supposed to die under water.”

“No.” The word came out a lot harder than I meant, but I couldn’t stop it because my heart was gunning in my chest. “No, Liz, that’s not true, so don’t you dare believe it.”

“It’s kind of hard not to when I really want to not be here, Hugh.”

“I need you here, Liz,” I croaked out. “I need you.”

“You don’t need me, Hugh,” she replied sadly. “You want me, but you won’t always feel that way.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” I argued back, pulling her body closer to mine. “Aside from the fact that you’re my girlfriend and I adore you, you’ve been my best friend since I was seven. You’re the keeper of all my secrets and the only girl on this planet I would willingly spend my time with. I absolutely do need you, Liz.”

“I’m so broken, Hugh.”

“You’re not broken,” I replied gently. “You’re grieving.”

“I am broken,” she strangled out, looking devastated. “I’m not good , Hugh. I’m not the girl you think I am, and one of these days, you’ll figure that out and leave.”

“I won’t,” I shot back insistently, feeling fucking crippled that she had so little faith in my ability to stay with her. “I won’t leave you, Liz.”

“Caoimhe left,” she whispered, eyelids fluttering shut to conceal her pain from me. “You’ll leave, too.”

“That’s not me,” I argued back, reaching for her hand. “I’m not that person.” I placed her hand on my cheek. “I won’t ever leave you on your own.”

“Maybe you should,” she mumbled. “Before you get hurt.”

“Are you going to hurt me, Liz?” I asked, covering her hand with mine.

“No, but he might.”

“Mark?”

“Maybe.” Her fingers twitched beneath mine. “Or maybe the monster will get you first, or the scary lady.”

“The monster’s not going to get me,” I promised her for what felt like the millionth time over the course of our relationship. “And neither will the scary lady. As for Mark fucking Allen, he should be afraid of me getting him.”

Her eyes snapped open. “No, Hugh! Don’t!” Fearful, blue eyes locked on mine. “Don’t go anywhere near him.”

“I’m not afraid of him, Liz,” I said, trying to console her. “And he’s going to get what’s coming to him.” One way or another .

“Promise me, Hugh.” Her hand jerked to fist my shirt. “Promise me that you’ll stay away from him.”

“Well,” I sighed heavily. “At this present moment in time, I’m forbidden from stepping foot inside his house, so you really don’t have a whole pile to worry about.”

“Why?”

“It’s no big deal, Liz.”

Her fingers tightened around the fabric of my shirt. “ Why , Hugh?”

I debated lying to protect her fragile emotions, but I couldn’t . Not when she was looking at me with complete trust in her eyes. “I got in a fight with Mark.” Sighing in defeat, I quickly continued, “I smacked the shit out of him for all of three minutes before he broke my nose—oh, and then my dad broke his nose.” Shrugging, I admitted, “Dad’s banned from the house, too.”

“Why would you do that?” she strangled out, fingers shakily tracing my cuts and bruises. “He’s a lot older and a lot bigger than you.”

“Maybe right now,” I begrudgingly agreed. “But he won’t always be.” Snatching up her hand in mine, I pressed a kiss to her scarred wrist. “I’m going to grow up, Liz. One day, I’ll be a man, and if that prick even looks in your direction, I’ll put him in the ground.”

Her eyes widened to saucers. “You w-would kill him?”

“If he touched you? Absolutely,” I confirmed grimly. “And I wouldn’t feel bad about it, either.”

“You would do that for me?” A deep shudder rolled through her body. “But why ?”

“Because I love you,” I urged, kissing her wrist again. “And because I believe you, Liz.” I entwined her fingers with mine before adding, “I believe he raped Caoimhe.” Shifting closer, I pressed my forehead to hers once more and whispered, “And I will never let that animal do to you, Claire, or any other girl what he did to your sister. But mostly you.”

“Why mostly me?”

“Because I love you most of all.”