by Kait Nolan
“My music’s a part of me, and I’ll play no matter where I am. As to the rest, I left home as a boy, and I’ve had my adventures, seen much of the world. I’m a man grown now, and I want home. For me, that’s you. And you’re here, so I want to stay. Will you have me?”
I want to stay. The four most beautiful words she’d ever heard. The words no one else had ever given her.
Eyes brimming, she framed his face. “I could never ask you to stay. You had to choose it on your own.”
He pressed his brow to hers. “I did. I do. I choose you.”
You’re here, so I want to stay. I choose you.
Finally. After all these years, all this time and effort taking care of everyone else, he was the one taking care of her. And she could let him because he’d chosen her. He loved her enough to stay. “I love you. God, how I love you.”
“Is that a yes?”
Pru laughed through the sheen of tears. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Then I’d say now we can celebrate.”
~*~
After nearly fifteen years of avoiding anything resembling routine, Flynn found himself settling into one with an ease he wouldn’t have imagined. Guests came and went, and he didn’t feel a flicker of the envy that had plagued him as a child. He enjoyed meeting and chatting with each one, and finding a way to personalize their visit. Most swore they’d come back, and that gave him a sense of pride he hadn’t felt working his parents’ B and B. Here he was contributing to what Pru and her sisters were building, making it grow and thrive. And he was putting down roots for the first time in his adult life, twined around the woman he loved and the girl who’d already become a daughter in his heart. Life was good, and he could almost forget the threat hanging over their heads.
Almost.
Then Lydia Coogan called, requesting a meeting with him and Pru, and all his newly engaged bliss was eradicated in a twist of anxiety. This woman could destroy everything.
“What do you suppose she wants?” Flynn asked.
“She said she needed some clarification on a few things in your application.” Pru laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sure it’s fine. We went back and forth with Mae a few times, getting all the details right, and she’d known us most of our lives. It’s not surprising she needs some more information.”
“What if we’re asked to produce documentation of our relationship? Emails or whatever?”
“I don’t think they can do that. They aren’t immigration.” But now she looked as worried as he felt.
Immigration. There was another bridge they’d have to cross. But one thing at a time.
Flynn slipped his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to add to your stress. I’m just nervy is all.”
She burrowed in. “I’m ready for all of this to be settled, so it’s not hanging over our heads.”
“Your mouth to God’s ear. Where’s Ari?”
“Upstairs trying on every article of clothing she owns, trying to decide on a first day of school outfit. I can’t believe summer’s nearly over.”
“You’ve had lots of changes.”
“This year has been…crazy. I lost my mother, got Kennedy back, gained a daughter, started a new business, and found you. I barely recognize my life anymore.”
Flynn laced his fingers at her back. “A lot of good in there, though.”
“Yeah.” She lifted her head. “I wish my mother could’ve met you.”
It wasn’t lost on Flynn that had Joan still been alive, he might never have stuck around long enough to get here. Would Pru have made that first move without the impending adoption hanging over her head? Would he have even realized what he was missing? “I wish I could’ve met her. I heard so many stories about her over the years. Kennedy loved her very much.”
“We all did. She had the biggest heart. Nobody loved like she did.”
He stroked a hand through her hair. “I’d say the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
Her lips curved. The knock on the door wiped the smile right off her face. “Oh sure, now she knocks,” Pru muttered.
“Friendly, professional,” Flynn murmured. “We’ve got this.” He hoped he was right.
Pru had a welcoming smile pasted on as she opened the door. “Miss Coogan. Welcome. Please come in.”
As before, Lydia Coogan was dressed in business attire, the briefcase slung over her shoulder. Her no nonsense shoes tapped an impatient rhythm as she strode inside.
“Can I offer you some coffee? A glass of tea?”
“No.” After an absurdly long pause, she added. “Thank you.”
Pru’s smile flickered. “All right then. Please come through to the family parlor. We won’t be disturbed there.”
The woman perched on the edge of one of the chairs, back ramrod straight. Flynn and Pru sat across from her on the sofa. There’d be no relaxing during this meeting, and maybe there shouldn’t be. This woman had set herself up as enemy from day one. He reached automatically for Pru’s hand, feeling a matching tension coiling through her.
“I’ll be brief,” Miss Coogan said.
Flynn doubted she knew how to be anything but.
She pulled a file out of the briefcase, flipping it open. “I’ve been checking your references, Mr. Bohannon. The six you provided all checked out, though all expressed their surprise at your involvement with Miss Reynolds.”
“As we said before, we kept our relationship quiet,” Flynn said.
Miss Coogan ignored that. “I’m sure you read in the paperwork, each of your references is then asked to provide an additional reference as part of the process. I’ve been working my way through those, which has taken some time, given the time difference between here and Ireland.”
Was he supposed to apologize for that?
She consulted something in the file. “Miss Reynolds, you arrived in Galway on May twenty-fifth, two years ago, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You and your sister Kennedy spent a day there, before traveling to Ennis, where you met Mr. Bohannon.”
“That’s correct.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“He was playing in a pub there.”
Miss Coogan’s gaze felt almost hostile as she flicked it from Pru back to the notes in her lap. “And do either of you happen to remember the name of that pub?”
“No. Callahan’s? Gallagher’s? One of those Irish surnames probably. I was there for two weeks, and I ate in a lot of pubs. I don’t remember that one in particular. Certainly not after all this time.”
“What about you, Mr. Bohannon?” Flynn wasn’t mistaking the harsh gleam in her eye as she stared him down.
“I’ve played in literally hundreds of pubs over my career. I could name half a dozen pubs I’ve played in Ennis over the years, but I couldn’t tell you which one I played that night.”
The woman nodded, as if that confirmed something. “Understandable. Since you weren’t in Ennis at all.”
Ice crawled up Flynn’s spine, and Pru’s hand flexed in his. “Excuse me?”
“You were not in Ennis at the time Pru and Kennedy Reynolds were going through. You weren’t even in Ireland. See, one of your references put me in touch with one Darcy O’Hara. He said if anyone knew anything about you being involved with a woman, it would be her.”
Oh fuck.
Pru frowned. “Who is Darcy O’Hara?”
But it was Lydia Coogan who answered. “One of his groupies, apparently. She followed him on the road for nearly a year, trailing him from venue to venue. During the period in question, she—and he—were in Paris, playing Corcoran’s Irish Pub. She emailed me very detailed notes on the itinerary, including pictures and plane tickets that prove that you could not possibly have crossed paths with Miss Reynolds on that trip.”
Pru opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Flynn felt the ice turn to sweat. “Darcy was more or less a stalker. She could have invented any number of things, and likely would on
ce she heard I was getting married.”
“Perhaps she could. But she didn’t. You lied, Mr. Bohannon. Both of you lied.” She expanded her gimlet stare to include Pru. “And your sister and her husband are complicit.”
Pru’s face had gone white. “I can explain.”
Miss Coogan slammed the file shut and shoved it into her briefcase. “I don’t care, Miss Reynolds. I didn’t like this situation from the beginning. I don’t appreciate bending of the rules to accommodate people. The rules exist for a reason. But if you think I’m going to allow Ari Rosas to stay in your care, you have another thing coming. I’m pursing an injunction to have her removed from the home.”
“No! You can’t!” Pru was on her feet in a second.
The social worker slammed the briefcase shut. “I can and I will. Liars have no business raising a child. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but it will be over by the end of the week, I can assure you.”
“We’ll fight you on this,” Flynn snarled. He had no idea how, but there had to be something.
Coogan flashed a humorless smile. “Go ahead and try.”
Pru followed as the woman headed for the front door. “Miss Coogan, please. Just listen.”
“The time for listening is past. The time for truth is past. I suggest you start saying your goodbyes.”
The house shook as she shut the door behind her.
Chapter Thirteen
PRU FLATTENED HER PALMS against the door, shock and denial arcing through her. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. She’d done everything right. She’d taken the classes, gotten the certifications, and picked up her mother’s mantle without complaint. She’d been a goddamned rock since her mother died—for Ari and her sisters, because they needed her to be. Surely, all of that would outweigh her one indiscretion.
A car cranked up outside. Pru’s knees gave out, and she collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. Flynn caught her before she hit the floor. His arms came tight around her. He was saying something. She didn’t know if it was English or Gaelic. Her ears weren’t working. Her legs weren’t working. Nothing was working in the face of the tearing grief. Nothing could touch the unspeakable horror of what had just happened. She curled in on herself, wrapping both arms around her middle, as if that could contain the horrific pain. Tears poured down her cheeks and she opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her entire body felt like a scream that couldn’t escape.
She was going to lose Ari. She was going to lose the last piece of her mother. Her family would never trust her again. And she was letting down the child, who was counting on her more than anyone else in the world. The child she’d sworn to protect and love all of her days. After a lifetime of playing it safe, one reckless decision had destroyed it all.
It broke her. More than being abandoned by her father. More than the death of her mother. The realization that she’d done this, she’d made this mistake, shattered her. All the agony she’d repressed and ignored for years came flooding out in a silent storm.
Flynn held her as she shook and sobbed. A part of her wanted to shove him away. A part wished she’d never seen him, never met him, never been tempted by him. But that put the responsibility off on someone else, and it had been her decision. Her foolish wish. This disaster wasn’t on him. Pushing him away wouldn’t change anything, and she had sufficient wits remaining to realize that, when all this was over, he was the only one likely to still stand by her. That thought had her turning into him at last, fisting her hands in his shirt and tucking into his body.
An eon later, the tears finally slowed, probably because she’d wept out every drop of moisture in her body. Pru’s head throbbed. Not for the first time, she thought grief felt much like the flu—an attack on all the senses that left you weak and aching. Flynn’s hand was tangled in her hair, stroking her nape. He’d stopped speaking at some point. They were still in the floor of the foyer. Pru felt some dim measure of gratitude for the fact that no guests had stumbled upon them. But they couldn’t stay here.
She lifted her head to find Flynn’s eyes red-rimmed.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Pru tried to shake her head, but it weighed a thousand pounds. “Not your fault.”
“But if I—”
“It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. And we have to face the consequences.” The social worker would carry through on her threat, and a judge could rule to take Ari away. Nothing could be worse than that, and she’d have to find a way to live with it. They all would.
“There has to be something we can do.”
She crawled out of his lap, using the doorknob to haul herself to her feet. Purged of that first wave of grief, she struggled to focus on practical steps, on action. “I need to call Robert.”
“Who’s Robert?”
“Robert Barth. My attorney. I probably should have done that in the first place, but I knew he’d object to what we were doing, and I was afraid of what he might tell me about the alternatives. He needs to know what’s going on. And maybe there’s something to be done to fight it.”
Feeling about a hundred years old, Pru made her way to the kitchen, pouring a tall glass of water she didn’t want and guzzling it down. Then she poured a second to chase some ibuprofen. “I should call Mae, too. She’s still on leave and recovering from back surgery, but maybe she can offer some insight. Or maybe she can talk Lydia Coogan down.” Not that she had much faith in that eventuality. The woman had taken an instant dislike to Pru and seemed determined to punish her for being able to get past any of the red tape of the foster system.
“We have to tell the rest of the family that this is coming.” The idea of having to face that made her want to run. Or maybe just hide in a closet.
Flynn’s expression was grim. “We’ll do it together.”
That didn’t make her feel better, exactly, but she felt a little less alone.
“I have to talk to Ari.”
“Do you want to speak to the attorney first? Find out more information?”
Pru shook her head. “There’s nothing worse as a foster kid than to have adults making decisions about you without including you. It’s why she eavesdrops. We all did it. I don’t want her drawing her own conclusions based on partial information. I have to be honest with her.” She set the glass aside and started for the stairs.
“What? Now?”
“The sooner the better. We don’t know if she came downstairs at any point. I don’t think she overheard the social worker or she’d have been up in the middle of that meeting arguing. But if she saw us in the foyer… She needs to know where she stands. I’ve never lied to her, and I’m not going to start now.”
He started after her.
“I think, maybe, I need to have this conversation with her alone.”
Flynn pulled up short. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “I’m right here if either of you need me.”
“Thank you.” Because they both needed it, Pru laid a hand against his cheek before going upstairs.
Dread ratcheted higher with each step. She tried to find the words, the right thing to say so that this didn’t destroy Ari’s world, but her mind was simply full of static. Too late, it occurred to her that she should probably wash her face. But no amount of scrubbing was going to cover up the crying, so ultimately, she knocked on Ari’s door.
No answer.
Maybe she’d fallen asleep?
Pru knocked again, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. “Ari? Honey?”
Her room looked like a bomb had gone off. Clothes were scattered on every surface. Good lord, they needed to have a chat about the importance of everything in its place. She didn’t realize that she’d expected to see Ari passed out amid the piles until her brain registered that there was no teenager in the room.
“Ari?” She strode to the closet, though the door stood open. Empty.
Pru wandered back into the hall, checking the bathrooms. No Ari. She headed upstair
s. When guests weren’t in residence, sometimes Ari liked to read in the turret room. But that, too, was empty. She trotted back to the landing.
“Flynn, can you run look to see if Ari’s outside or in the barn?”
“Sure.”
As the door shut behind him, she began going room-by-room, including the guest rooms. Unease morphed into active worry when she found no trace of her child. Where was she? Kennedy’s old room was the last one, and again, no Ari. Pru started to shut the door, when she caught a flash of movement. The curtain billowed from a breeze coming in the open window. The window that opened on to the old bodock tree. The one Kennedy had used for sneaking out to meet Xander.
Everybody knew that story, including Ari.
Flynn came up the stairs. “I didn’t find her.” He looked past her. “Why is the window open?”
Pru couldn’t breathe.
Ari always eavesdropped. If she’d heard what the social worker had said, if she’d heard that she’d be taken away…she might run. It was that fear that had driven Pru and her sisters to fight so hard for Ari to stay put after their mother died. Kennedy had stated unequivocally that running was what she’d have done.
As she stared at the open window, Pru realized that she’d been wrong. The situation could absolutely get worse. “We have to call Xander. I think Ari’s run away.”
~*~
“We can’t find her.” Pru’s voice, already ragged from crying, broke again as she met Xander on the porch. The sound of it shredded Flynn’s guts. This was his fault. If he hadn’t opened his big fat mouth… If he hadn’t convinced Pru that this was the best course of action… If he’d never stayed at all, this never would have happened. Ari’s home wouldn’t have been at risk.
Xander put an arm around her. “We’re gonna find her. I promise. Let’s go inside now. I need to get some more information.” He turned to the deputy he’d brought with him. “Clyde, you wanna do a sweep of the immediate area, see what you can find?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ve shouted ourselves hoarse, and we’ve searched the house and barn,” Flynn said, barely trusting his own voice.
