“Sorry. They were all out of ‘Good luck with your big fight’ wrapping paper at the shop.”

He didn’t say anything, which was completely out of character. There were no quips or cocky comebacks. He just stared at it. After a few minutes, he picked it up and pulled the bow on the string, then carefully opened the brown paper to reveal the jewellery box underneath. Still staring, he opened it up to find an intricately designed silver Celtic cross inside on a long silver chain.

“Do you like it?” I asked worriedly. “I had Father Patrick bless it when we went to church.”

He swallowed hard and when he looked up at me, his eyes were wet.

“You bought this for me?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Sunshine, you can’t afford this.”

“I’m getting by better with the extra money that I get from Danny, and I did a few extra shifts last month when I finished out my rota.”

He carried on just looking at it, and I started to get worried.

You don’t have to wear it or anything. I just wanted to get you something to say good luck and to let you know that I’m behind you.”

He launched himself off the bed and threw his arms around me, squeezing me hard.

“I fucking love it. Thank you, baby,” he replied.

I grinned, more than a little relieved.

“Father Patrick told me that the ring symbolises God’s eternal love and that the four parts of the cross mean different things to different people, but in your case he thinks they represent mind, body, heart, and soul. Every one of those parts needs to be ready before you fight, but God will be with you in all of them.”

“That sounds like something Father Pat would say. For me, it just reminds me of you.”

“I like that, too,” I admitted.

He stared at it some more before taking it out and handing it to me. I undid the clasp and secured it around his neck as I kissed him gently on the lips. He pulled me closer until I was straddling him then kissed me hard, touching his tongue against my own. Pulling away, he looked deep into my eyes and asked me to bear my soul.

“Will you tell me now, about your past?”

I nodded my head although my chest felt so tight it hurt to breathe. Would he see me differently after this? Would this make me unclean and repugnant to him? Unless I told him, I’d never know, but I would give a great deal right now to be without the burden of my past.

“My dad died when I was nine. He was the centre of my whole world. Then one day I went to school, and when I got home, he was gone. Another car skidded on some diesel on the motorway. The other driver lost control and smashed into Dad’s car, killing them both instantly. Less than a year later, my mum had met and married Frank,” I explained, climbing off O’Connell. I felt dirty just talking about it, and I didn’t want to pollute him by touching him as I let this poison seep out of me. Any warmth I’d felt before was gone, and I fought hard not to let my shaking become noticeable.

“The first time he hit me was for talking to a boy in my class when I took out the rubbish. Mum did absolutely nothing. I was a teenager by then, and I think he’d been beating her for a while. He was nothing like my father, so disapproving and controlling, even from the first time that I met him. After the first time he hit me, it was like he got a taste for it. He was never sorry after, either. In his sick head, he could justify every punch with a purpose, like he was doing me a favour taking over where my dad should have left off. I wanted to tell people so many times, but my mother never left the house. She was his hostage, and the reason he knew I would never open my mouth.”

The tears that I’d kept at bay for so long were running ugly down my face. I couldn’t look at O’Connell because if I saw even a fleeting expression of disgust, what was left inside that was still whole would fracture.

“I was angry that no one around me had worked out what was going on. He was very careful to keep my bruises where my clothes would hide them, but nobody questioned why I had suddenly become withdrawn and why I no longer had any friends. Everyone around us thought that Frank was our salvation. The loving family man doing his best to raise another man’s child. I guess they blamed my problems on grief or adolescence, but not one person ever asked me if I was okay.”

“What about your mum,” he croaked.

“I think something inside her died when Dad did. Frank must have given her something she needed, I guess, to marry him so quickly. She did my washing and cooked my meals, but in her head, I think she believed that I died when Dad did. When I took a beating, it gave her relief from being beaten herself. By the time I escaped, she’d become a zombie. She never looked at me or spoke to me, but she followed every order he ever gave her. Even when it was to leave me alone with him.”

I choked back a sob and without warning, he reached over and lifted me from the bed to sit in his lap. Yanking the covers, he cocooned them around us and held me so close to his chest that I could barely breathe.

“That’s enough now, baby. I shouldn’t have pushed you so far.”

“You needed to know. There’s more, but I’m afraid of how you’ll look at me when you hear everything.”

He held my face and tilted it until I looked up at him.

“What did I tell you before? Whatever happened before me changes nothing. You are and always will be the most fucking beautiful person that I’ve ever met, inside and out.”

“I’ve been scared for so long, O’Connell. With you is the safest that I’ve ever felt, but it won’t last. He’ll find me eventually, and I’m terrified that you’ll be caught in the crossfire when he does.”

O’Connell held me like he was never letting me go. Swallowing hard, it was almost like he was holding back tears of his own.

“What did I tell you I’d do if anyone tried to take you away from me?” he asked gruffly.

“Decimate them,” I whispered.

“Fucking decimate them,” he reiterated. “Let him come. It will save me the trouble of looking for him.”

I SPENT THE REST OF THE NIGHT wrapped around O’Connell. When I’d climbed back into bed after visiting the bathroom, he’d hauled me against him like he’d missed my warmth. By the time the sun rose and it was time to leave for class, I was dragging my heels.

“I don’t want to go,” I admitted.