These Thorn Kisses (St. Mary’s Rebels 3)

The pain in my neck, my shoulders, that’s never far away, expands now.

I did do that.

I was the one to leave her.

I was the one to break up with her in the end and come back to Bardstown. When I promised her that I wouldn’t.

I promised her that things would be different when we got to college. I told her that I would have more time for her.

Time.

That was always the point of contention between us.

I never had enough of it back then. With school, soccer practice, holding two jobs, taking care of my family. Helen somehow always took a back seat.

But when we both got into the same college in New York, I promised her that we would start our own life. That she’d be my priority. I’d have all the time in the world for her.

And she promised that we wouldn’t have to hide. Which was my condition.

Because back then we had to. From her parents. From the people in her town. Because as I said, she was the princess and I was the commoner. But once I got on the path to becoming a pro soccer player, things were going to be different. Her parents, her posh society would accept me.

While I didn’t care about being accepted, I did care about not having to hide.

But then my world went to pieces. My mother died. My siblings needed me and I had to come back.

I had to break my promise to her.

“I have made sacrifices for you, Con,” she continues, her fingers tightening on my sweater. “I’ve waited for you. Because you promised me that things would be different when we got to college. You promised me that our life would start. But again, yet again, you chose your family over me. So you owe me this. You owe it to me to give me what I want now. You owe it to me to give me this relationship however I want it. On my terms.”

“On your terms,” I repeat, my jaw clenching.

“Yes.” She nods. “You don’t want to fuck me because I’m married, isn’t it? That’s your whole problem, correct? Because you have some kind of a moral code that you won’t break. Because you’re too good to do what other men do just like that. And it’s not as if you don’t want to. I know you want to. I know you want me. I know that. Why else would you still be single and alone?”

“Get to the fucking point.”

“The point is, Con, that you expect me to always give things up for you. You’ve always expected me to wait for you, do things on your terms. But not anymore.” She stands up too. “I’m not upending my life or putting it on hold for you like I did before. So if you want to come to me, you’re doing it on my terms.”

I hum. “Ultimatums, huh? You sure you want to do that. What if I call your bluff? Because I think you’re the one who’s doing all the wanting here. Why else would you be begging so pathetically and desperately?” Then I lean closer to her and whisper in her ear because she’s right, “We do have a history together. And even though I’m not a fan of looking back, I have to say that I’m tempted. But not until you lose the husband.”

At last, I get to leave.

And for some reason I hear her sweet, soft voice again.

You’re someone’s dream man…

I stand at the door and wait.

I tell myself that it’s okay. I’ve rehearsed what I’m going to say. If the topic comes up.

I’m going to say that it’s none of my business.

Because it isn’t.

It’s not my business to know what they are doing. Or what happened between them in the past. Why they aren’t together and why she married Seth.

Even though I’ve been able to think of nothing else but that ever since I saw them under the tree.

But it’s their story and they don’t have to tell me.

So yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to say if she brings it up at the meeting and that I’m never going to tell anyone. Like I told him yesterday.

With that thought, I raise my hand and knock at the door to alert her that I’m here and then wait for her customary, “Come in.”

Instead of a come in, however, the door is snatched open and Helen stands there with a small smile.

A small uncertain smile.

And all I can think about as I look at her standing there is what I witnessed under that tree, and I have a feeling that all she can think about as she looks back at me is that I know.

I know her secret.

“Hi, come on in,” she says, her voice soft, when we’ve stood there for what seems like an age.