I loved my father, and he’d instilled many fine traits in me, but the Catholic guilt was one I could do without. Just because every time he fell in love it ended in tragedy didn’t mean I was destined for the same. It was a constant struggle to uphold my faith without allowing certain rules and beliefs within it to malform me, to make me think that a natural thought about the attractiveness of a man was sinful.
Noah stopped walking, and we stood just a few feet away from a gaping chasm. The sudden appearance of it gave me a momentary fright.
I hadn’t come here in years, but I suddenly remembered I’d visited with my dad a few times as a kid. It was called Geary’s Hole, named after the person who used to own the land, I suspected. The phrase Ask me Geary’s Hole was in common parlance among the locals in town. It was a typical response if you asked someone to do something they didn’t particularly want to do.
If you looked down, you could see the water sploshing about fifty or more feet below. It was a windy day, so there were lots of waves. They moved up and down, crashing against the rock face. The spray would probably hit you if you got too close to the edge.
“Seems like the perfect place to jump, doesn’t it?” Noah said as he stared down at the water.
I eyeballed him, a chill coming over me as I tugged the collar of my jacket up around my ears to fend off the cold. “Is this something you’ve considered?” I whispered, unnerved. The way he stared down into the water, an almost haunted look in his eyes, made my throat constrict.
“Once,” he said in a low voice before bringing his gaze to mine. “I had far more reasons to jump than I had not to.”
A pang seized my chest. He’d considered suicide? “Why didn’t you?”
He thought about it a moment before answering simply, “Spite.”
I fell silent. Noah’s attention returned to the hole. “When I came to your room the other day you seemed very down,” he said, casting me a look that almost seemed concerned.
I blinked at him. “Are you worried I’d try to kill myself?”
“Would you?”
“No. Never.”
“Good,” he said, looking appeased by my answer. Despite the morbid topic of conversation, I was touched that he’d been worried about me. That he’d considered my mental state.
“Ard na Mara is a tough place to grow up. It can feel like the walls are closing in on you sometimes,” he said, and my heart pounded because he’d expressed a sentiment I felt often.
I came to stand next to him, looking down. “Jumping from here wouldn’t necessarily kill a person.” The thought was in my head and out of my mouth within the space of a few seconds. I hadn’t meant to voice it.
Noah glanced at me. “You’re right. Killing a person is a lot harder than they make it look in the movies.” A pause as a thoughtful expression came over him. “And then sometimes it isn’t hard at all.”
I held his gaze. “Speaking from experience?”
He must’ve heard the uneasiness in my voice because he sought to reassure me. “I don’t mean you any harm, Estella. You’re safe with me.” He shot me a knowing glance. “Even if you are in the habit of spying on me.”
“I didn’t …” The protest died on my tongue when I saw his cynical expression. So, he had seen me in his room. I was oddly relieved to finally have it out in the open.
“If you want to know things about me, just ask. Though I can’t guarantee you’ll like my answers.”
I stared him down. “Okay, well, for a start I’d like to know what you were doing standing by the edge of the cliff the other day, staring at the house like a psychopath?”
My question surprised a chuckle out of him, and I realised he was quite handsome when he smiled. “I had to leave my bike at the mechanics in town,” he answered. “There was a problem with the engine. I decided to walk home along the beach, though now that you mention it, yeah, that was a bit creepy. Anything else you’d like to know?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “Why have you come to visit your mother and sister?”
“I have unfinished business.”
“What kind of unfinished business?”
“The family kind.”
I sighed and shook my head. “You’re being purposefully vague. Again.”
“I said you might not like my answers.”
I studied him a moment. “Why did you collect me from school today?”
Noah turned away, his shoulders stiffening slightly. “I don’t like bullies, and I felt you needed a little helping hand.”
“You have no obligation to help me. We aren’t family. Not really,” I whispered.
He turned back around, taking a step towards me and eliminating some of the distance between us. “We don’t need to be family for me to want to help you. I’ve always been a supporter of the underdog.”