Wild Dreams: A Friends to Lovers romance (Wilder Irish Book 12)

by Mari Carr

  “Thank God!” Miguel said, enveloping Erin in a big hug. “When we heard…all I could think…”

  “We’re okay,” Erin said, her voice muffled against Miguel’s uniform.

  “Layla already called me,” Miguel said. “The alarm sent an alert to Finn’s phone. They’re on their way here. Let me call, tell her you’re…” Miguel, still frazzled and upset, released Erin and pulled out his phone, calling his girlfriend. Oliver overheard him telling Layla that they’d all gotten out.

  It was just as he thought. Most of his family would be here soon. Finn’s alarm system included an app, and after a long afternoon—which had been painful at the time but funny afterwards when they retold the story—they’d managed to teach the older generation how to download and use it.

  Gavin succumbed to another coughing fit.

  “Ambulance on the way,” Landon said.

  “Don’t need one,” Gavin rasped.

  Oliver wanted to argue with his foster brother. Then he started coughing as well. But there was no way in hell he was going to the hospital. No way he was leaving until the fire was out.

  Landon ignored Gavin. “EMTs will check you both out. Smoke inhalation is no joke and it sounds like you two sucked in a lot.” Then he walked to the end of the street to stand next to Miguel, who was directing traffic—not that there was much at this time of night. Mainly just the rescue vehicles.

  Actually, Oliver wasn’t even sure this classified as night anymore. It was after four a.m. Morning.

  Oliver looked at the two ornaments still clasped in his hands, then glanced at Gavin, overwhelmed by guilt.

  “Gavin—” he started.

  Gavin cut him off. “You were right to save them.”

  “You shouldn’t have come—”

  “Stop.” Gavin’s face was streaked with lines of black soot caused by the combination of smoke and watering eyes. “I go where you go, brother. Always.”

  Oliver didn’t know how to reply to that. He probably couldn’t if he tried. His throat was no longer tight, it was closed. Completely blocked by tears he couldn’t shed.

  Or shock. Maybe this was shock.

  More cars pulled up, and Oliver saw Layla emerge from a passenger seat. Erin cried out and left his side, running to her cousin, the two of them hugging tightly. Finn stood next to them, his gaze glued to the pub.

  Padraig, who had an apartment a few blocks away, sprinted down the sidewalk. His hair was a mess, his shoes untied. He hadn’t even bothered to dress or put on a coat, racing to the pub in his pajamas.

  “Jesus,” he said as he came to a halt next to Oliver. He pulled Oliver into his arms, then reached over to include Gavin in the bear hug. “Jesus,” he said again as he released them. “I thought. I…fuck…”

  Then he, like Finn, turned to look at the building, his expression one of total devastation. “Oh fuck.”

  Oliver swallowed hard, the act causing him to cough once more.

  “No no no nooooo! God, no!”

  Oliver turned at the sound of Riley’s voice, and the tears he’d managed to keep at bay so far started to fall when he saw her and Pop Pop walking down the sidewalk toward them. Riley raced up to them, tears streaming down her face. “Ollie!” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “Gavin.” She gave Gavin the same kiss, then dashed over to Aaron, who’d seen her arrive. She ran straight into her husband’s arms, trembling, crying.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Pop Pop,” Padraig said as their grandfather stopped next to them.

  “This is exactly where I should be.” Like Padraig before him, Pop Pop gripped Oliver’s upper arm and Gavin’s, twisting both so he could look at them.

  “You’re both okay?” Pop Pop asked, his eyes filled with concern.

  He and Gavin both nodded, and it occurred to Oliver that he wasn’t the only one fighting off some pretty strong emotions. Gavin looked just as distraught, the seriousness of what they’d just escaped only now dawning on them.

  “You’re sure? Not lying to me?” Pop Pop continued to look them up and down as if unwilling to take them at their word, then he reached up, cupping Oliver’s cheek.

  “I’m sure,” Oliver croaked.

  Pop Pop pierced Gavin with a look.

  “I’m fine,” Gavin reassured Pop Pop.

  “Erin?” Pop Pop asked.

  Gavin pointed farther down the block. “There with Layla. She’s fine too.”

  “I was so afraid. When Riley woke me up, when she said…” Pop Pop stopped and, for the first time, his grandfather turned to look at the pub, the flames reflected in his misty eyes.

  Pop Pop had spent the majority of his life within the walls of that building, immigrating from Ireland when he was in his twenties with his bride, Sunday. He’d raised his family, run the pub and the restaurant, sat by his wife’s side as cancer consumed her, and celebrated countless birthdays, holidays, graduations, weddings, and the birth of babies here.

  An entire life—contained within four walls. Four walls now scorched by flames and smoke, gutted by the fire still raging within.

  Oliver squeezed his eyes closed tightly, trying to block out the broken expression on Pop Pop’s face. It had been a brief look; his grandfather—one of the strongest men he’d ever known—had schooled his features quickly. Oliver suspected he was probably the only one who’d seen that split second of raw emotion, of unspeakable pain.

  When Oliver opened his eyes again, he had to look away from Pop Pop before he fell completely apart, but there was no escape. Aunt Keira and Uncle Ewan had arrived. The two of them managed Sunday’s Side, the restaurant where Riley was the cook. The three siblings had worked together for decades, practically their whole lives.

  Ewan watched the blaze, his eyes lined with pain, his arms wrapped tightly around Keira and Riley. He tucked them close as his sisters both quietly cried against his chest. “It’s okay,” Ewan murmured to them over and over. “It’s okay.”

  The image shattered Oliver’s heart into a million pieces.

  Tris, who ran the pub side with his son, Padraig, arrived next. He stopped beside Padraig, and the two of them wrapped their arms around each other’s shoulders, neither looking away from their beloved pub, watching as the flames reduced everything inside to ash.

  “I called Colm on the way here,” Tris said to Padraig. “He’s on his way, son.”

  Oliver was glad to hear that. Padraig had suffered so much loss in the last few years. He was only just now starting to move on after Mia’s death. Oliver was afraid to consider what this might do to his beloved cousin. Padraig would need the support of his twin brother, Colm, if the outright desolation on his face was anything to go by.

  The firefighters continued to fight the blaze for what felt like hours, though realistically, Oliver doubted much more than an hour had passed since they’d escaped the pub.

  The EMTs looked over him and Gavin briefly, but both of them refused to go to the hospital, despite his mother’s insistence. Lauren and his two dads had arrived later than the others. Because they didn’t work at the pub, they didn’t have the alarm system app on their phones. Instead, they’d found out about the fire after a call from Aaron.

  The EMTs offered them blankets, reminding Oliver that he, Gavin, and Erin were decidedly underdressed for the winter weather. Hell, they were all barefoot. Seemed weird to him that he couldn’t even feel the cold.

  More and more of the family began to arrive, all of them in various states of dress as they’d been pulled from their beds, called by loved ones. Shoulder to shoulder, they stood across the street, watching, until at last, the water was shut off and the firefighters began to stow their equipment.

  “It’s out,” Aaron said, crossing the street to them after a brief chat with the fire chief. “Most of the fire was contained to the first floor. There was…a substantial amount of damage.” Aaron stumbled to explain, and it was clear he didn’t want to say that the pub and the restaurant had been completely destroyed. “There’s water and
smoke damage to the upper floors. Most everything up there is…a total loss as well.”

  “How did it start?” Ewan asked.

  Aaron shrugged. “All they can tell right now is it started in the kitchen. The fire inspector will come by in the morning.” Aaron seemed to realize it was already morning, dawn breaking, and corrected himself. “In a few hours to take a look.”

  Riley gasped. “The kitchen. Pop—” Riley’s voice broke as she wrapped her arm around her father’s waist. “It’s my fault.”

  “What?” Pop Pop asked.

  Riley and Padraig exchanged a glance, and Gavin cursed beside Oliver.

  “Shit. The outlet?” Gavin said.

  “What outlet?” Oliver asked.

  “One of the outlets in the kitchen stopped working this week. I kept breaking the circuit, overloading the other outlets.” Riley looked at Gavin. “I wish I’d…”

  “No. Don’t. I should have insisted on looking at it Tuesday night,” Gavin said quietly.

  Riley shook her head. “My fault. I told you it could wait until the weekend.”

  “It’s no one’s fault,” Pop Pop said.

  Riley refused to believe that. “You’re wrong. God. I can’t believe this! Can’t believe I fucked up so—”

  “Language, Riley,” Pop Pop said, cupping Riley’s face and giving her a gentle smile. His grandfather had said that word to all of them more times than any of them could count, not that it had done a damn bit of good when it came to curbing their love of curse words.

  “But, Pop—” Riley started, the joke missing its mark.

  “I won’t hear another word from you, young lady,” Pop Pop said in a stern tone Oliver had only heard a handful of times in his life.

  Riley nodded, though it was clear she wouldn’t stop blaming herself. Oliver hated seeing the pain, the guilt in her eyes.

  Apparently, Aaron didn’t like it either. He put his arm around his wife and kissed the top of her head. “It’s not your fault, Riley. Let it go, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.”

  Riley twisted and buried her face in her husband’s chest, holding on to him tightly.

  Pop Pop stepped off the curb and took a couple steps toward the pub. Oliver wondered if he was trying to get a closer look, and he was ready to intervene before his grandfather got too near. Not only was it unsafe, but he didn’t want Pop Pop to see just how bad it was. It looked horrible enough from this side of the street.

  However, Pop Pop surprised him when he turned his back to the pub, facing all of them, still huddled close together.

  “Everything that matters,” Pop Pop said, his voice surprisingly strong as he held his arms out, gesturing to all of them, “is on this side of the street. Everything.”

  Oliver looked around and saw his beloved family standing side by side, healthy, whole, alive. Erin and Gavin flanked him, and when he considered how much worse this could have been if they hadn’t been able to get out, if he’d lost one or both of them…Pop Pop was right.

  “We’ll rebuild it, Pop,” Oliver’s dad, Sean, said, stepping next to his father and placing his hand on his shoulder.

  Pop Pop smiled. “Of course we will.”

  “We’ll make it better than before,” Uncle Killian added.

  “We’re going to rearrange our schedule at J and K Construction,” Uncle Justin added. “Pat’s Pub just moved up to the top of our list of projects.”

  “My brothers will help too,” Layla called out. “Moretti Brothers Restorations. I promise you, they’ll be able to make it look exactly the same.”

  For the first time since waking up to the alarm, the two-ton weight that had been pressing on Oliver’s chest began to lift. The Collins family might get knocked down, but damn if they didn’t get right the hell back up again.

  It was then that Oliver remembered the ornaments. He’d been cupping them in his hands through everything, unwilling to release them. He glanced over at Gavin, who nodded, holding up the two in his hands, aware of where his thoughts had traveled.

  The two of them walked over to Pop Pop, palms upright, revealing what they held.

  Pop Pop’s eyes widened. “Sunday’s ornaments.”

  Riley gasped. “You saved them.”

  His aunts and uncles crowded closer to look. He and Gavin handed them to Riley, Keira, Ewan, and Tris, who cradled each ornament, as if they were newborn babies.

  Oliver’s dad, Sean, stepped between him and Gavin, the only Collins sibling who wasn’t smiling at the moment. Wrapping his arms around their shoulders, he pulled them out of earshot of the rest of the family. “I’m not sure I like the idea of the two of you stopping to undecorate a Christmas tree in the middle of a fire. What the hell were you thinking?”

  “It was my fault,” Oliver said. “I ran to the tree to grab them. Gavin tried to stop me.”

  “Ollie—” Gavin interjected, shaking his head.

  “Dammit, Oliver,” Dad started. “So not only did you risk your own life, you risked that of your brother’s. Where was Erin?”

  Oliver sighed. “On the fire escape. Waiting.”

  “Jesus,” Dad said, his jaw suddenly tight.

  “He wasn’t wrong,” Gavin said, drawing Dad’s attention to him. “This family lost enough tonight, Sean. It only took us a second to grab the ornaments. If I thought we were in danger, I would have dragged him out of there, ornaments or not. I swear it.”

  Dad nodded, and a ghost of smile appeared. “When Aaron called and said the pub was on fire, I lost ten years off my life. Even when he said you were both alright, I couldn’t relax until I saw you with my own eyes.”

  Gavin blew out a long, slow breath. “Looks like we’re homeless.”

  Oliver hadn’t considered that. Shit. He’d spent the last hour thinking only of what his family had lost. Hadn’t spared a thought about himself.

  He and Gavin had just lost everything.

  Dad glanced over his shoulder at the pub briefly before turning his back on it again as if it was too hard to acknowledge. “I realize we’ve sort of taken control of your old bedrooms…”

  Oliver and Gavin chuckled. Sort of was an understatement. His parents had turned Oliver’s old bedroom into a home gym, and Gavin’s was currently awash in fabric as their mother had taken up quilting and decided she needed a sewing room.

  “We still have the guest room, and we can move some furniture around tomorrow…or, damn. It is tomorrow. So, later this afternoon. We’ll get your rooms back together for you,” Dad offered.

  “Or,” Erin said, “if you’ll forgive me for eavesdropping, you guys could come stay with me. I’m out a roommate at the moment and the extra bedroom, Jordan’s old room, is fully furnished. I mean…all the furniture was mine to begin with.”

  Oliver gripped the edges of the blanket draped over Erin’s shoulders, using it to pull her closer, as for the first time he began to feel the cold December air. He wrapped her up in his arms, trying to share what little body heat he had left with her. He looked at Gavin over her head, trying to determine what his foster brother thought of her invitation.

  While it wouldn’t be much different than what they’d been doing over the past year—Erin typically slept over at their apartment a couple nights a week—Oliver couldn’t hide how much he liked the idea of the three of them sharing a space full-time.

  Gavin’s brow was furrowed, a sure sign he was trying to come up with an excuse to say no.

  Oliver stared him down, mouthing the word “please,” and Gavin rolled his eyes.

  Then the lines in Gavin’s forehead eased and he gave Oliver a crooked smile. “That’s a nice offer, Erin,” he said. “If you’re sure, I say we give it a try. And if our testosterone gets to be too much, you can always give us the boot.”

  The shock was wearing off quickly. Oliver reached out and pulled Gavin toward them, the three of them huddling together. He needed them in his arms, needed to feel them close and know they were all safe.

  Oliver swallowed hard. �
�I love you two. God, if anything had…” He couldn’t finish his thought.

  “We’re okay, bro,” Gavin murmured. “We’re all okay.”

  Erin sniffled, then lifted her head, nodding. “We’re okay,” she reiterated with a sad smile.

  Oliver let their words sink in and held them even tighter, overwhelmed by the sudden feeling that everything had changed tonight.

  Only he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  6

  Gavin answered the door, stepping back as Sean walked into Erin’s apartment. A week had passed since the fire. In many ways it felt as if someone had died, as he and Oliver tried to work their way through the stages of grief. The first couple of days afterwards had been spent trying to replace everything they’d lost—their wardrobes, phones, IDs, toiletries, and too many other fucking things to count. He’d been to the DMV, the insurance company, as well as making numerous trips to Walmart and Target.

  Sean lifted up a huge bag. “Lauren’s been at it again. Found a sale online on Levis jeans. I think she bought them out of your size. Ollie’s too.”

  Gavin chuckled as he took the bag. “I think we officially own more clothes now than before the fire,” he joked, though deep inside he was touched by the way the Collins family had rallied around him and Oliver, constantly stopping by to bring them everything from hand-me-downs to new clothes to items they “just happened to have extra” of. Though Gavin would bet his last dollar there was no way Aaron just happened to have two “extra” expensive electric razors laying around his house.

  “Where are the other two?” Sean asked, following Gavin to the kitchen. He nodded when Gavin pulled a cold beer from the fridge, taking it with a quick thanks. Gavin helped himself to one as well. “Erin’s at work, though she should be home soon, and Oliver took off after we left the work site to check on Pop Pop, to see how he’s doing. I’m supposed to be getting dinner ready. It’s my night to cook. Obviously, I’m failing at that.”