Chapter 222 I Thought We Were Closer Now
“Here, eat some eggs. You need protein.”
Deirdre stopped moving her spoon slightly.
Brendan caught the change instantly. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” She cast her eyes down on her food, looking a little hesitant, before drawing the egg close to
her lips.
Sam snatched the spoon away from her, alarmed. “Miss McKinnon, no! Don’t you remember what the
doctor said? No eggs two hours after taking your meds!”
“What the…?” Brendan’s eyebrows were furrowed dangerously. Incredulity swirled behind his eyes as
he scanned her face. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”
Deirdre shrugged. “It was just not important.”
“N-Not important?! You mean severe nausea is fine? Gastric pain is fine? Cold sweat and pain are
fine?!” Even Sam was growing exasperated. “Or did you forget what happened the last time you ate a
teensy bit of egg? Is that why you were gonna stuff yourself that much just now?!”
His snippy retort made Deirdre choke on her reply. Brendan’s face, erstwhile pale in shock, turned
redder and redder. He was not irritated just because of how furious Sam was while questioning the
mistress he served but also because Deirdre chose to say nothing. He pinned her wrist on the table
with one hand and tightened his grip suddenly.
“You knew!” he snarled, gritting his teeth. “So why didn’t you say so?!”
This stubborn mule would have eaten them if Sam had not stopped her!
“I told you…. It’s n-nothing…” Pain caused her face to turn a little pale. She wanted to pull her hand
away. but it only made him increase the pressure. She could feel his rage boiling over from his palm.
“Nothing? Then what counts as ‘something’ to you?” Brendan argued. “Oh, of course! Nothing matters!
You even jumped off a building because, hell, not even your life matters to you!”
Deirdre’s lips parted, but she realized she could not defend herself.
Brendan found her quiet admission even more infuriating. “Don’t you dare insinuate that I don’t know
what’s going through your head! You thought that if you refused to eat them, I’d use it as an excuse to
forbid you to see Ophelia, didn’t you? Because that’s who I am to you, isn’t it? A sh*tty, unreasonable
tyrant who would sh*t on his own promise just because he was feeling a little hissy in the moment!”
Deirdre said nothing. It was all true.
Brendan’s expression darkened, but he began to control his flaring temper. “I really thought we were
getting closer.”
Her heart skidded. She looked up at his face, her eyes bewildered.
“I am not the tyrant you think I am. I am not unreasonable,” he added, his voice strained from the effort
to fight his rage. “You don’t have to please me at your own expense-that wasn’t what I asked for. I
asked for us to go back to how we were back then! You don’t have to force yourself to do anything
beyond that, Deirdre! What matters the most right now is that you recover. That you continue to live.”1
Deirdre could not see his expression, but she could imagine how hard he found it to push against his
own rage based on his tone alone.
He was trying not to scare her into retreating into her shell.
Her mind went blank.
“But… why?”
Her conscious control seemed to return only after the question left her lips. Shocked, she shut her lips.
Brendan was a little taken aback by her question. “Why? Why should there be a reason to want to see
you get better? Or to see you live?”
She would believe literally anyone else if they said this. But Brendan always had an angle.
Deirdre fell into a daze.
“Look, if you absolutely need an answer of some kind, then it’s as I told you before: I’m trying to atone.”
He discarded her food into the bin and ordered Sam, “Bring her a new plate.”
Deirdre ate in small bites, but she finished her portion completely. Even Dr. Ginger was surprised by
her compliance so much that he remarked, “Huh. Miss McKinnon has never had a big appetite. She
normally says she’s full after eating only half a piece of toast, but it looks like that’s changing today!
Well done, Mr. Brighthal!!”
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