Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“What connection is that?” I ask, feeling strangely desperate to understand. I lean forward, hands on my desk. “I don’t understand.”
She taps a perfect fingernail against her chin. “Cormac has always had a problem with expressing himself, ever since he was a child. It was much, much worse when he was young. There’d be times when he’d lash out, like all his emotions were exploding from him all at once, and others where he seemed nearly catatonic. Working for his father helped, but it wasn’t until he found you that he began to regulate. These last seven years have been the best of his life.”
I rub my face, feeling so overwhelmed it’s like my skull might explode. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either,” Siobhan admits, spreading her hands. “We tried therapy. We hired doctors. Nobody had a diagnosis, or at least everyone had a diagnosis and they were all bullshit. Cormac muddled through, not really living, until he found you. And then… it was like he came alive.” She’s looking into the distance again, a little smile on her lips. “You should’ve seen him. Back before, we’d play piano together, and that was one of the few times he really showed there was a person deep inside his shell. Then suddenly he was talking and laughing and even smiling sometimes like a switch was flipped. I realized his relationship with you must’ve triggered it after I found that room.”
I shake my head and hold up my hands. “We didn’t have a relationship.”
“Not a normal one,” she concedes gracefully. “But it was something, and it meant the world to him.”
“Do you know what I thought of him?” I’m on the verge of crying and struggling to hold it back. “I called him my ghost.”
Her eyebrows raise. “That’s… surprisingly accurate.”
“It scared the hell out of me those early days. For a year I thought I was going insane. My family’s security couldn’t find anything wrong, but my stuff kept going missing—” I decide not to mention the smell. I figure that’s a little too intimate and creepy. “Until eventually, I learned to live with it. I buried those emotions. Pushed all the fear away.”
She nods like she understands. “Then you saw the room.”
“It flooded back,” I whisper, wondering how she could even have the slightest idea how I’m feeling right now. “How violated I felt. Someone was coming into my room while I was asleep and stealing little things. I thought I was going insane. My family basically made me stop mentioning it or else I was afraid they’d lock me up in an institution.”
Real contrition and concern spread across her face as she leans toward me and puts a hand on top of my desk. “And I am so, so sorry you went through that, Bianca. Lord knows nobody deserves it, least of all you. From what I’ve been told, you’re one of the last good people left in this miserable little world we live in, and I can completely understand why my son decided to devote himself to you.”
I don’t even know how to take that. I pick up a pen, click it open a few times, and put it back down, fidgeting and trying to figure out what these emotions mean.
All those terrible tears are still clawing at the back of my mind.
I’d learned to love my ghost. I fell for his scent.
But it wasn’t always easy.
Those early days were straight-up hell.
I’d forced myself to move on, made myself forget, but now I can’t stop remembering.
“I still don’t know why,” I whisper, feeling very small and vulnerable. I wish I knew this woman better. Maybe I could share more. “That’s the part that’s bothering me so much. I don’t get why he chose me. I don’t know what he sees in me. I don’t understand any of it.”
She nods and slips her shoes back on. “I can’t answer all those questions. You have to talk to him. But I just came here to check on you and to say that I know my son. Cormac would never hurt you. He’d rather die.”
“I believe that.”
“Good. You should.” She stands, bag back up on her shoulder. “He’s so much better now because of you, and for that, I’m forever grateful. Cormac’s my son. I knew what he was doing was wrong and strange, but it made him better. It brought him back to me. I’ll always owe you that, Bianca, no matter what happens. You helped open him to the world, even if you didn’t know you were doing it. Thank you so, so much for all the good years you gave me.”
Tears well in her eyes. She blinks them back, laughing lightly as she wipes them away, acting like it’s so silly she’s getting all emotional. But my throat swells, and I’m tempted to cry too. Her feelings are deeply infectious.