Page 71 of Lawless Sinners

“I can get them.”

“You’ve been drinking.”

“I had two vodkas, not a bottle,” I say, even though I know he’s right. I’m light-headed and held together by pure spite. “Anyway, I’d rather poke my eyes out than get in your car.”

He watches me for a second, then opens his jacket and takes a gold fountain pen from the inner pocket.

“Then go ahead.”

He holds it between us, his expression perfectly calm.

I stare at the pen, then look up at him.

His pupils are so black and wide his eyes look bottomless, and the worst part is, he doesn’t seem amused. Rather, I get the impression he’s prepared to stand here all night long and let my pride exhaust itself against him.

“Poke out your eyes,” he says, “or get in the car.”

I wipe my face with my cuff, not admitting defeat, not even to myself, and climb inside because the hurt in me is bigger than my anger.

Bigger than my pride.

Bigger than him.

While I clip in my seat belt, he walks around to the driver’s side, gets in, and glances once at the belt across my chest.

The engine starts, and the car pulls away from the house, both of us staring forward in silence.

Once we leave the Kinnane mansion, the road winds through the dark, the window wipers dragging off rain, the heated seat pushing warmth into my exhausted muscles.

Fionn drives with one hand resting on the wheel and his elbow on the middle armrest.

I let my head fall back against the leather upholstery, relaxing a little in our silence.

“I had to put down my horse today.”

He glances my way for a beat, then looks back at the road.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

“My da bought him for me before he was killed. He was more than just a horse.” My voice comes out scratchy, nothing like mine. “I don’t usually cry.”

“Cry all you want.” The muscles in his jaw clench.

I turn back to the window and press my sleeve beneath my eyes.

The car moves through another stretch of darkness.

“What did you call him?” he asks.

“Fury.”

Silence settles between us again, and I almost feel grateful that he doesn’t say something stupid to try and make it better. It’s like he knows the only thing I need is space and time.

The car takes a bend, and my phone slides across the console. We reach for it together, and his hand closes over mine, warm in the dark.

Neither of us pulls away.

One heartbeat. Two.