Page 110

BACK TO HER GRAVESIDE

Hugh

JUNE 9, 2000

“H UGH ? I S THAT YOU, LOVE ?” I HEARD MY MOTHER CALL OUT THE SECOND I STEPPED through the front door after school on Tuesday.

“Yeah,” I called back, dropping my bag down in the hallway before joining her in the kitchen. “Sorry I’m late. The school bus broke down. We had to switch onto another bus. It took forever to arrive.”

“No, Catherine, the school bus broke down,” Mam relayed into the landline, visibly concerned. “Try not to panic.” Mam gave me the usual once-over with her eyes before adding, “I’m sure Lizzie hasn’t gone far.”

Hasn’t gone far?

My stomach bottomed out when I heard that.

Jesus Christ!

“Mam,” I tried to interrupt, but she had her back to me now, coaxing Catherine Young into not worrying about her daughter when she absolutely should be worrying.

It had to be bad for Catherine to call my mother.

They weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

My next decision was one rooted in instinct, and turning on my heels, I bolted outside to grab my bike.

Pedaling like a demon, I rounded the familiar narrow path in the graveyard and almost fell off my bike in relief when I spotted her blond head up ahead.

Hopping off the saddle, I let the bike go and moved straight for her, ignoring the sound of metal clanking onto the ground when it crashed behind me.

“Goddammit, Liz,” I strangled out, breathing ragged, when I found her fast asleep on top of her sister’s grave. “Your mam is looking for you.”

She wasn’t even dozing—no, she was in a deep sleep because she didn’t even twitch when I spoke.

All she had on was a pair of denim jean shorts, a plain white T-shirt, and an old pair of scuffed, red high-tops.

With her hands tucked under her left cheek and her long, blond hair splayed over her shoulders like a golden blanket, it physically hurt to look at her.

Because I didn’t know how to ease the pain she was drowning in.

I couldn’t pull her to safety.

I couldn’t save her from this.

Feeling pissed off and irritated, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent two quick texts that contained the same information to both her mother and mine.

* I have her. *

Sweating buckets from my excursion, I sank down on the grass beside her and loosened my school tie before ripping it off altogether and tossing it aside.

Un-popping a couple of buttons on my school shirt, I blew out a pained breath and rested my elbows on my knees and then my head in hands, wondering what the fuck I was supposed to do next.

Filled with unspoken resentment for the girl in the ground and fucking shattered for the girl asleep on the grass beside me, I wondered if there would ever come a day when the torture of Caoimhe’s suicide subsided for my girlfriend.

I had so much I wanted to say, so many angry words I wanted to scream, but I never would. Instead, I kept my mouth shut like the good boyfriend I vowed to be and did my best to love her back to life.

I could feel the darkness was settling over her, threatening to overtake her, and I was determined to keep her heart in the sunshine.

No matter what.