Chapter 15

No one had told her how cold it was in New York in late fall. Clare desperately missed the warmth and sun of California as she sat on a bench on the outskirts of Van Cortlandt Park, trying to decide what to do.

She had two suitcases filled with her clothes, plus her purse, and that was it. Her purse contained only the tips from one night’s work, and that wasn’t going to get her anywhere fast. She found herself wishing she was older: Her parents had left her a hefty sum of money in a trust fund, but she couldn’t touch it until next year, when she turned twenty-five.

Clare’s mother and father hadn’t known that they were going to pass away so early in life, leaving her stranded and at the mercy of someone like Travis for years until she could make use of her inheritance. They had meant the money to be a gift, not a means of survival, and yet now it was something much worse. Clare remembered how she had found Travis’s safe accidentally left open one evening when he was drunk.

That was the night she left.

Having access to his safe, she stole back the contract that he had made her sign, which turned her trust fund over to him when she turned twenty-five. She hadn’t really thought any of it through—how she was going to keep him from finding her, or where she was going to go.

She had just left.

A couple of people had helped her, but from what she later heard, they paid the price. Guilt swarmed through her as she contemplated what Travis might have done to them. Shaking her head at the thoughts, Clare reminded herself that that was exactly why she refused to let anyone else help her again. She was on her own, and as soon as she turned twenty-five, Travis would have nothing to hold over her anymore.

Pulling the coat around her tighter, Clare wondered what her next move should be. She had purposely left behind her phone and any possible way of finding her. She couldn’t risk Travis’s using anything to track her down. It was better that she left now, not knowing where to go.

If she didn’t know where she was going, Travis wouldn’t, either.

Seemed like sound reasoning, until the cold began biting through her thin jacket. Pulling herself up, Clare grabbed her bags and headed toward the Bronx River Parkway to find a bus stop. Still racking her brain about where to go, she played through the list of possibilities.

She could try to go back to California, but she had no family there and Travis had certainly made sure to get rid of all her friends. Plus he would definitely find her there; it was his turf.

Although, apparently, he could find her anywhere.

Sniffing, Clare tried to push the fear out of her mind.

The friend who had sublet the apartment to her was out of the question; Clare didn’t know her that well anyway. She was the daughter of friends of her late parents. Anyway, Travis had clearly figured out that avenue.

That was her entire history, her entire network of people. All summed up in fewer than the fingers on one hand. Approaching the bus stop, Clare realized she had no options left.

This was it.

She was alone.

“Clare? What are you doing at a bus stop?” Or maybe I’m not alone, Clare thought, as she turned to find the voice’s origin.

“Casey, hi…” She fumbled awkwardly with her words, trying not to meet Casey’s eyes as the tall redhead sauntered up to her.

“You know, Rory’s been blowing up all of our phones tonight looking for you?”

“He has?” She felt more guilty by the second.

“And here you are, at a bus stop, with a bunch of luggage.” Casey’s statement definitely sounded more like a question. “Did you guys get in a fight or something?”

“What? No!” Clare said hurriedly.

It was bad enough that she felt guilty for leaving; she couldn’t handle people thinking it was Rory’s fault on top of all that.

“I just need to get out of town”—Clare bit her lip nervously—“at least for a while. Please don’t tell Rory.”

“Why not? I’m your friend, Clare, but I’m Rory’s family first. And to think I was worried Rory would be the one to break your heart. If you just up and leave him for no reason in the middle of the night, I don’t think he will come back from that. He’s been through too much already.”

“I just don’t have another choice. I don’t want to hurt him—that’s why I need to leave. Believe me, Casey, he is in danger if I stay.” Clare felt tears beginning to threaten.

Casey pushed her hands into her pockets, carefully surveying her. Clare gulped anxiously, hoping Casey would give up and leave. Her friend’s eyes were narrow and calculating, telling her that she might not get that wish.

“Come on, you’re coming to my place.” Casey stepped forward and grabbed one of Clare’s suitcases, then carried it off with her.

Clare jumped up in surprise. She needed that luggage—it contained all she had left in the world. But Casey was moving swiftly. Frustrated, Clare followed her. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t a big deal. Worst-case scenario, she decided, she could leave in the morning.

Ten minutes later, Clare was sitting on Casey’s couch while her friend opened a bottle of wine in the kitchen behind her. She was grateful to be somewhere warm, and she had to admit that her feet were tired from working all day. The soft, plush couch was definitely inviting.

“Here you go—some red wine to make you talk.” Casey smiled at her, handing her a freshly poured glass.

“Thank you.” Clare accepted the wine, sipping gratefully. “But there isn’t anything to talk about.”

“Clare, either you talk to me now or I’ll call Rory.”

“Some friend you are,” Clare scoffed, more than a little annoyed.

“The worst. Now talk.”

Clare studied Casey over the rim of her wineglass as she took a few more sips. Finally, she concluded that she really didn’t have a choice; Casey wasn’t going to drop the issue until she knew what was going on.

Now she just had to figure out what to tell her, and how much.

“Casey, I’m not trying to hide things or be dishonest. I promise. It’s just that by telling you or Rory, it puts you guys in the line of fire. And this is my fight. I don’t want anyone else hurt because of it.” Clare hoped to reason with Casey as a last resort.

“Girl, listen, I may be only twenty-one, but I’m no stranger to this. I teach a self-defense class, which has given me a pretty good sense of why you enrolled. Maybe I don’t know the specific details, but I’ve known since the day I met you that you’re running from something or someone.”

“You have?” Clare frowned.

“Yeah, we all are. Everyone has demons. Some are in our heads, some are in our pasts. Others have a pulse and are lurking around in our futures.”

“Which one are you?”

“All of them?” Casey paced her kitchen. “My whole family died in a fire when I was four years old. My older brothers, Declan and Liam, were born around the same time as Rory and Quinn. My dad was Seamus’s brother.”

“I’m so sorry, Case.”

“Yeah, it’s been awful. Rory and his brothers and their parents have all been my only family since then. They took me in right away. Plus, after everything Rory did to save me—well, that’s why I can’t have you hurting him. I can’t let you just run off without telling him why.”

“Wait—what do you mean, save you? What does the fire have to do with Rory?”

“He’s the only reason I’m alive. Our house was right next to his; our dads did everything together like that. He saw the fire from his bedroom window. He was eleven years old when he pulled me out of the house.” Casey finished the last of her wine and got up to pour herself more.

Clare felt tears stinging her eyes as she thought of Rory, everything he had been through and everything he had done. He had told her about the fire, but never once had he mentioned his role in saving his cousin’s life. The thought of him as a little boy facing such a terrifying ordeal was heartbreaking.

She realized then and there that Rory was like that: He didn’t want appreciation or gratitude; he just wanted to help. He spent all his free time volunteering at a shelter, and Clare was the only person in his life who knew. He was training his brother and he had saved his cousin, and he never once asked for a thank-you.

Clare’s chest suddenly felt heavy and tears wet her cheeks as she put her glass down on the coffee table, doubling over to drop her head between her knees. She was trying to regain her breath, but ended up beginning to sob instead. Casey appeared at her side almost instantly, rubbing her back gently.

“Clare, it’s okay, it’s over. Why are you crying?”

“I love him.” She stared up at Casey, realizing that it was true. She knew it now without a doubt, and the thought terrified her.

“We all know that.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m in love with Rory.” Clare sniffed back her tears, calming down as she realized that she sounded a little hysterical.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes! It is! He will find me, he will know I love someone else, and he will hurt him. It will all be my fault.” She dropped her head into her hands again.

“Who? What? Slow down, Clare.”

“Travis Creighton—he called me at O’Leary’s. He knows where I am and he’s coming for me. This is such a fucking mess!” Clare started crying again, feeling frustrated with everything.

Just when she realized that love had been staring at her this whole time, she was going to lose it.

“Is Travis the one you’ve been running from?”

Clare nodded her head.

“You don’t have to tell me any more, but we definitely need to call Rory. He’ll know what to do.”

“But Travis is so jealous—you don’t understand. Rory would be in danger if he got involved. Travis has a serious temper; he’s always high on something.”

“Clare, stop. Have you met Rory? He’s not easily frightened. At the very least, don’t you think he can decide for himself if he wants to be involved or not?”

Clare thought about that for a second, then slowly nodded in agreement. She hadn’t really thought about it that way before. She knew that Rory could handle himself, but she was worried he would feel forced to help if she asked him. Casey was right though: Rory did what he wanted; no one could make him do anything.

Not even her.

Casey got up and grabbed her phone out of the bedroom, then called Rory. Clare watched in apprehension, sipping some more wine and pushing herself as far back into the couch as she could. She grabbed a blanket from the edge of the couch and wrapped it around her legs, feeling comforted at the tight hold. She took a few deep breaths and wiped at the tears under her eyes.

“He’s not answering his phone.” Casey frowned. “I’ll keep trying to call him, but in the meantime, the second bedroom is yours. I never bothered to replace my roommate when she moved out a few months ago, so why don’t you stay here for now?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out like that.”

“Clare, you’re staying here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And to think, I’m the baby here,” Casey teased her.

Rory rolled over onto his back in bed, staring at the clock on the nightstand. He was due to be at Legends soon to train Kane, which was the last thing he wanted to be doing right now. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and then stared up at the ceiling, wondering what the point of getting out of bed was.

Clare had left him. She was gone.

He loved her.

His chest felt heavy and empty all at the same time. His knee was throbbing as it did every morning, but he barely noticed it over the onslaught of hurt ripping through his heart. He had fallen for her. He wished he had figured it out sooner, but now that she was gone, he knew it without question.

Sitting up, he saw Ace sprawled out across the end of the bed, which was unusual since he always slept on the floor. He wondered if his dog could sense the hurt he was feeling and was being protective.

Tomorrow was Kane’s qualifying fight, so Rory swung his legs over the bed and proceeded to start his day. He gritted his teeth to try to breathe through the pain as his leg complained intensely under the pressure of his weight. He stared down at the knotted scar that sliced across his knee, remembering when Clare had kissed it.

Now that he looked back on it, that was probably the moment he fell in love with her. Her wholehearted acceptance of who he was had touched him deeply. But it was too late; she was gone, and his knee ached with a pain that vied with the pain in his heart. He decided right then and there that he was going to find some pills when he got to Legends. There was no point in trying to stay clean anymore.

Rory settled on a bowl of cereal for breakfast, feeding Ace at the same time. He got dressed in a black muscle shirt and some long, dark red gym shorts, then bundled up in a jacket for the quick yet cold walk in the late fall weather. Leashing Ace, he and the dog headed out together. Ten minutes later, they trudged through the front doors of the family gym.

“Morning, bro,” Kane greeted him with a nod.

Rory didn’t answer, ignoring him. He just didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. He didn’t want to talk.

“You look like shit. I’m guessing you didn’t find Clare?” Kane continued.

“What do you think, asshole?” Rory grumbled, passing his brother, who was standing outside the locker room doors. He went inside and put away his coat and Ace’s leash, the dog loose beside him, then rifled through several neighboring lockers. They were easy to get into when you had the master key to all of them.

Right now he needed one thing and one thing only, because there was no way he was going to get through the day without some help. He lucked out on the fifth locker, finding a bottle of hydrocodone pills in someone’s gym bag. He took out the whole bottle, gulping down two immediately dry, while ignoring the whining coming from Ace, standing next to him. He poured the rest of the bottle into a plastic sandwich bag before replacing the bottle in the gym bag. Rory stowed the bag in his pocket for later before he left the locker room.

When Rory emerged from the locker room, he found Kane staring him down, arms crossed over his chest.

“What’s wrong with you? I’m sure she’ll turn up. You need to relax,” Kane said, following Rory over to the rings with Ace.

“What the fuck do you know?”

“You’re so pleasant in the mornings—what’s going on?”

“Will you just drop it?” Rory bit back the desire to punch someone, anyone.

“Why answer all my questions with a question?”

Rory groaned in frustration. “Can we please just train?”

“You did it again.”

Rory felt something snap in him and he whirled around, his fist connecting with Kane’s jaw, hard. Ace started barking as Kane staggered back a few steps, gasping. Several members working out nearby turned to watch them.

“Shut up, Ace.” Rory motioned to the dog, who stopped barking at the command.

Seamus’s booming voice intervened. “What the hell is going on here?”

Rory turned toward the cage, again almost tripping over Ace, who seemed to be glued to his side. The dog was staring up at him intently, and Rory was getting aggravated. He had enough judgment in his life; he didn’t need it from the damn dog, too.

“Rory, what the fuck was that?” Kane yelled furiously, storming back toward him but stopping when he saw Ace’s protective stance.

“I’m not fucking doing this.”

“Outside, both of you. Now!” Seamus commanded, glancing around the gym at the audience that was beginning to form.

Rory and Kane glared at each other for a moment, not moving. Slowly, they both obeyed and headed toward the front of the gym, keeping a wide gap between them. Having left his jacket in the locker room, Rory was hit hard by the cold air when they stepped out front onto the sidewalk. Ace was beside him, warily watching Rory’s brother and father.

Kane glared at his brother as they stood apart from each other. “Are you drinking again?”

“I wish,” Rory grumbled, appreciating the pills in his pocket and wishing he could take more.

“What happened in there?” Seamus asked in concern.

“Your son is a fucking lunatic is what happened,” Kane retorted.

Rory said nothing. Seamus glowered at the two men, visibly frustrated, then pushed his hands through his thick salt-and-pepper hair.

“Kane, go inside. I want to talk to your brother.” Kane flung up his hands like he could care less and left the two of them alone.

Rory’s father spoke to him. “You’re using again, aren’t you?”

It was phrased as a question, but there was certainty in his voice. Guilt washed over Rory as he shoved his hands into his pockets uncomfortably, feeling the bag of pills beneath his fingertips.

“My knee is still fucked up,” Rory said weakly, knowing the excuse wouldn’t make a difference.

“Damn it, Rory. What happened? You stopped for a while, like at least the last few weeks. Am I wrong?” Seamus paced back and forth.

“I did.”

“Then why did you start again? The whole family was about to force you into rehab, but then we noticed you getting better. That girl was having a good influence on you—you were getting better.”

“It’s not that simple,” Rory mumbled, dropping his head again.

“It is that simple, son. You’re walking around here with a giant chip on your shoulder, like the world owes you something. That’s not how your mother and I raised you.” Seamus’s voice drifted from commanding to sorrowful as he talked.

“Dad, I’m fine.”

“Do you have anything on you right now?”

Rory realized too late that he had unconsciously put a protective hand over his pocket when his father asked him that. Seamus put his hand out, motioning for Rory to empty his pockets. Rory reluctantly reached a hand in and pulled out the sandwich bag, then dropped it in his father’s hand.

“Shit,” a female voice behind them mumbled.

Another woman’s voice joined in. “What’s that?”

Both Rory and his father turned to find Casey and Clare staring at the interaction. Rory’s jaw dropped in shock. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He had honestly thought he would never see her again. She had left everything behind, including him.

“Rory, please tell me you’re not high right now.” Casey sounded so forlorn and heartbroken, causing another sweep of guilt to pass through him at the thought of disappointing one of the most important women in his life.

“Clare, you’re here,” he stuttered, baffled at what to say. This was less than the ideal way to see her again, handing a bag of pills to his father.

“Casey, I’m handling this,” Seamus told her.

“Rory, what’s going on? What do they mean?” Clare looked stricken; her face had lost what little color it first had. Her hand absently dropped to pet Ace, who had gone rushing over to her the moment her presence was known. Rory glared at him for a second. Traitor.

“I thought you left,” he said, as if it was a clear explanation.

“I’m staying at Casey’s. We tried calling you. I had to tell you something.” Clare’s eyes swept over him, filled with something he couldn’t identify.

Rory suddenly realized that he didn’t have his phone on him, having left it on his kitchen table last night. He hadn’t even bothered to check it again—since Clare didn’t have her phone with her, there was nothing he needed it for. At least that was what he had thought, but he was clearly wrong.

“So you started doing drugs?” Clare turned to his family for confirmation, clearly trying to figure out what was going on.

No one said anything, and Rory cringed as he saw the realization finally strike her. Shame swelled up in him, threatening to burst forth in a thousand excuses. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, having spent the last twelve hours thinking she was gone for good. He wanted to memorize everything about her, wanted to run over and wrap his arms around her, kiss her until he could taste nothing but her.

“It was never only alcohol, was it?” Clare asked.

He didn’t move; no one did.

“I can’t—I can’t do this.” She stumbled over her words, gawking between him and Casey. “You know I can’t. Not again—I can’t do it.”

Rory’s cousin just bit her lip nervously, glancing over at Rory with wide eyes. Clare backed up, then turned and briskly walked away from them. Ace whimpered. Rory moved to follow her, but Casey put her hands up and stepped in front of him.

“You have to let her go right now.”

“What? No, I just got her back!”

“Rory, stop. Let her go,” Seamus said, echoing similar advice before shoving the bag of pills into his pocket and heading back to the gym door. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow, son. Just go home for the day.” He walked inside, leaving Rory with Casey.

“I tried to call you a dozen times last night and this morning, Rory. Shit, this is such a mess. I mean, can you stop fucking everything up for once? You’re so much better than this. My cousin, my best friend—he is so much better than this, Rory.” Her eyes were teary as she spoke, which made him turn away. He couldn’t see her cry.

“I’m going to go check on her. Just go home, Rory.”

“What the fuck just happened? What is going on?” he said to no one in particular, as he found himself alone on the sidewalk.

He felt nauseous and confused. He wondered for a moment if this was what it felt like to lose your mind. Twelve hours had made his life unrecognizable; everyone he loved was angry with him.

Clare wasn’t gone, and yet she was.

He had lost her just as soon as he had found her.