by V. Theia
But that was then, and this is now.
There was a whole lifetime of space in between them. Lots of details she didn’t know about now that she ached to find out about him.
She breathed slowly and though she tried to smile, it didn’t truly reach her face.
She was tired and hungry.
“I can’t think of one thing to say,” he spoke and his voice as deep as the ocean and melodic as it was rough went through her fast as air.
She shuddered and looked up finally into those piercing eyes.
“Can I ask what’s wrong?”
That was just like Danny, she thought.
He’d been a rascal from a young age but always there if anyone needed help. Her especially. He’d helped her younger self so much that he’d earned hero status at age five.
He’d been saving her in one way or another her whole life.
She wondered why he could still appear so kind to her?
If the shoe were on the other foot could she be this magnanimous? Probably not. She got her wild hair and even wilder temper when provoked from her granny Aileen. Had it been Danny to do the dirty on her, she would have punched him if he turned up on her doorstep as she’d just done.
But then, she’d always known he was the better of the two of them.
Aoife longed to sit. It felt like she’d been walking for hours, the snow on the ground not making it easier for the ten mile or so distance she’d traveled. She wanted a hot cup of tea, a plate of biscuits … or cookies as they called them here … and a warm bed so she could sleep for a month.
When was her last good night’s sleep? Forever ago.
“Do you think … maybe I could get that cup of tea?”
She was stalling. She knew it, and from the look Danny gave her, he knew it too, but thankfully didn’t push.
With her arms around the baby she followed behind him slowly, trying without success not to take a minute to gulp in the man he’d become.
He’d always been big built, even at sixteen he stood shoulders above all the other men in their small town in Galway. His hair was shorter then, it still looked like he dragged his fingers through it a thousand times a day. Silver on his hand caught her attention … was it? Oh dear God, he still had the silver thumb ring she’d bought for his sixteenth birthday.
Her heart took off in a sprint, rattling around in her rib cage, almost as if a wild animal was chasing her.
Fatigue dogged her slow steps and she stopped behind him, noticing how good the jeans fitted his long legs and the way the black T-shirt formed to his arms and chest.
Who was he holding with those strong arms now?
Banishing crazy thoughts from her mind, she cleared her throat, aching to sit and lessen the pain from the blister on her ankle. It would have only taken a second to stop for a bandage. A simple task to stop the pain and bleeding in its tracks, but for some reason, all the crap she’d gone through this week, and everything that came before it, the blister represented her choices.
She deserved the pain and suffering.
In a way she felt dead and desensitized to the world she now lived in.
Her choices were not good ones, but she’d had to own them, or they would have consumed her whole a long time ago.
“Do you still take sugar?” His voice brought her head up, he was looking over his shoulder and Aoife’s stomach dropped.
He was still so handsome.
Would this trip of mercy have been better had he stacked on a dozen stone and been a moody bastard? Probably not. She’d loved the lanky boy who, when he went through puberty, could out bad mood even her.
It was never his looks she loved, though he’d turned into quite the looker.
Danny had a kindness that attracted folk like moths to his flame.
It was hard to look away, but she had to if she were to preserve what little shield she had left.
“Yes, thank you.” She croaked in reply.
Taking the cup he offered, their fingers grazed. Just a slight touch and an ache formed in its wake. Burrowed deep within her chest, it sat and festered, taunting Aoife with all those what ifs.
What if she’d gone to him that night and asked him to fix it all.
Could he? Would he have?
That was by the by, she supposed.
She never would have put that on his young shoulders.
And here she was, yet again in another scrape she wanted him to fix for her.
Would she ever learn?
Sip after sip she drank the tea until there was not a drop left.
Danny seemingly patient to wait until she was ready to voice what had brought her to his door now of all times.
She sighed and leaned against a wooden bench behind her just to give her bones a little rest. Allowing herself to look for the first time around his church with the wood pews, mosaic tiled floor and stained-glass window as its main feature.
It really was a lovely church.
He fit, she mused. In this place, in this town, she could tell he’d made a home for himself.
And it tore her up even more to know she wasn’t a part of his life.
Aoife didn’t want comfort and soothing.
Yet, it was the only thing she wanted at the same time.
“Ready to talk now?” His question cut through the silence at the same time the baby strapped to her chest began stirring. While she cuddled her closer, she nodded. “I suppose I should.”
The relaxed way he asked and perched on the side of a table with his legs crossed and arms equally so over his chest led her to believe this wasn’t new to him about helping waifs and strays who turned up unexpectedly.
It didn’t give Aoife comfort.
She felt like a burden and if she had any other choice, she would be anywhere else but here.
“Where’s your husband, Aoife?” Just her name in his mouth caused her to shiver and cuddle the baby tighter. She’d thankfully dosed back off.
The poor darling’s had a traumatic day too and she needed the sleep.
It was time to take control of her own happiness.
Fate be damned. No one was responsible for Aoife’s happiness but herself.
Either put up or shut up.
She lifted her chin, felt the sting of his unwavering glance, full of pity, no doubt, as she stroked the back of the little girl’s head, quieting her and comforting herself.
“He’s where he deserves to be. Dead in the ground, rotting in hell, I hope.” She announced to the man of faith.
And not an ounce of remorse did she feel for wishing ill on a person, in a church of all places.
TWO
“It was a damn inconvenience he was owned by a redheaded nuisance.” – Danny
Nothing but bone-melting fulfilment slid through Danny’s otherwise in good working order veins for the last minutes while he tried to breathe right.
It was a bloody inconvenience that his body was waking up from a deep sleep.
There mine is.
My long ago girl. There she is.
He hadn’t fully accepted how much of a daze he’d walked through his days, until the very moment his past life pulled the floor out from under his feet.
Lust. Denial. Anger.
They whipped through his mind on a tight loop causing him a typhoon of confusion and joy, co-mingling for control.
Sucking him down into a place he no longer held a key to visit.
It was once their place.
A place impenetrable to the outside world.
A place he thought would be theirs forever.
To keep his hands from reaching out and keeping her, he stuffed both of those traitorous limbs down into the depths of his front pockets and he rocked on his heels. Waiting for her to talk.
Lack of patience had never hindered him before.
But then all rules fucked off when it concerned Aoife Flanagan.
Always had, and he suspected always would.
His eyes strayed down to her feet and he
noticed a crimson stain on the back of her heel. Frowning, he straightened to his height, stepped forward and saw how she flinched.
It halted Danny immediately.
“You’re bleeding?”
“Ah, yeah. Just my foot, it’s fine. A blister, I think.”
He couldn’t damn well hold a conversation while she was bleeding to death in front of him. Without a word he strode off into the back room and returned not a minute later holding his medi-kit. It was just an old biscuit tin he kept bandages and ointment inside. One of the Sunday school kids were always hurting themselves while they played on the jungle gym he’d custom built for them out back.
“May I take a look?”
“It’s fine, really.” She insisted.
“Let me see, Aoife.”
He went down to his haunches and waited for her to turn her leg slightly. The blood was worse up close, and he winced as he carefully slipped off the tennis shoe that had seen better days. It came off easily, alerting him to the fact that the shoes were too damn big for her.
What on earth was going on?
She wore clothes that were ripped, shoes too big for her dainty feet and she was shaking, possibly from the cold, but the way her eyes continually went to the back of his church to check the door, alerted him to the fact Aoife was scared.
Nothing made sense and it wasn’t a feeling he welcomed.
Making sure her ankle was properly protected; he had the urge to put her foot in his lap. Instead he replaced the shoe and got back to his own feet, putting several inches between them until he was able to fill his lungs with air again. “That should help for now.”
“Thank you, Danny.”
A beat of silence drifted between them once again and Danny lost some of that fortitude patience he was known for.
Aoife had always been his hair-trigger.
She’d been a lot of things to him a long time ago, in another life which had her coloring every inch of it.
“Can I assume what has brought you to my door with trouble in your eyes has nothing to do with the dead husband?”
For a man of faith and forgiveness he should feel something other than relief hearing her husband was dead. It was downright wicked to be … pleased to hear the news. For the life of him, he swore he’d say a prayer for his wickedness later, but for right then, he was simply the man who’d lost the girl to another man with the bigger pot of cash. The kind of man who could have given Aoife a life of wealth and privilege.
And yet she sat here in ratty clothes, bleeding from her foot.
Danny felt a stirring in his chest because while he loved God, he was still just a human being and fuck that guy. He’d hated him for years.
He couldn’t quite unpack what he felt for Aoife. Not yet.
“I just. I can’t. I don’t—” she tried three conversations starts and stalled. “It’s a long story and I’m so tired, and this little one needs a bed. I know it’s asking too much of you and I swear I’m sorry about it, Danny, but could we trouble you for somewhere to stay? I can be gone in the morning.”
His brow fell over his eyes and he felt his composure crumble like wet sand.
She wanted to leave without saying a word? Hell no.
When he looked at her, she was chewing on her lower lip. If she wasn’t careful she’d have no skin left. His thumb tingled to free her lip before any more damage was done to the delicate skin.
If not for witnessing how she was trying desperately to keep her head from falling on her neck, the tiredness dragging at her eyelids, Danny would have pushed her to say more than that. How did she expect him to not push when she was here after all this time and with a baby in tow and a dead husband and looking as she did?
He grabbed a much-needed settling breath into his lungs and stepped toward her.
Aware he was in her orbit and just how rapidly his heart was beating out of control at the nearness.
His best friend and once everything.
His brain couldn’t function on a normal frequency.
“Come on, let’s get you somewhere warm so you and the little one can sleep.”
She stood wearily, as if all her bravado had seeped out of her filthy tennis shoes and Danny had to rush forward to help her stay upright with a firm clasp to her elbow. “Careful now, can’t have you messing my floor.”
She laughed softly and for the life of him he wanted to smile back but it became stuck somewhere between his brain and his mouth.
“Thank you, Danny.”
“No need. Come on, it’s not far. I take it you don’t have bags?”
She shook her head, embarrassed.
Danny frowned.
“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Aoife?”
“Please…”
“Tomorrow. I want to know everything.”
God, please help him to wait that long.
Inside his house, he led her up the stairs. At the bedroom door he had to set aside the heart-hurting that he’d once loved this woman more than all the stars in the sky, in order to do what was right. And the most pressing matter was getting her some rest as well as food and warmth for the baby.
“Is your baby on formula?” He asked, flipping on the two bedside lamps.
It was a simply decorated room, in blue and white, used more for function than design.
It did him just fine since he didn’t have overnight guests.
A flame ringed in blue, flickered to life within the furnace of his body when he watched her detach from the baby carrier on her chest, laying her on the bed before she turned, with her almond shaped eyes focused on him.
Danny stayed in the doorway. It was best to have as much space between him and insanity.
He wasn’t an animal, no matter the words of depravity swirling through his mind as he looked back at her.
“Misha. This is Misha,” she told him. The baby now she was free of the harness looked to be between four to five months old, though he wasn’t an expert. One baby pretty much looked the same as the next. She was dressed in a sleep suit, and when Aoife pulled off the little white hat it was to showcase dark, dark hair.
Not ginger then. The father must have dark hair.
He always thought Aoife’s kids would be little ginger-nuts just like her with a forest of freckles to hate just like their ma.
“She does drink formula. I don’t have any,” she frowned and sagged down to the bed before she picked up the baby again and cuddled her in. “I should have—dammit, so stupid. I need to go and buy some… but… I don’t have any money.” It was clear to Danny how she even hated saying those words. Being prideful had never changed at least.
He moved then. This was something he could do. “I’ve got it.”
“I can’t take your money.”
“For your baby, you can, Aoife, but don’t be worrying, I have things for bairns here, including food and little clothes that should fit Misha.”
Her head came up, eyes round as saucers. Had it been any other circumstance he would have laughed at her comical shock. “Do you … do you have kids, Danny? I never thought to ask.”
Was that shock or jealousy on her freckled face? He couldn’t tell anymore, and she used to wear her jealous emotion on her face like a second skin, flying into awful…delicious tempers at the slightest provocation. He refused to look closer.
“No,” he answered. “No kids, but we get a lot of them coming by, so I like to have a few things on hand just in case. I won’t be long.”
Turning, he retraced his steps down the stairs and into the storage room off the kitchen. Only then did Danny rest both fists to the wall, his head bent over his body, letting himself take a long breath finally.
She was here.
How was she even here?
“You can’t do this to me now,” he spoke quietly to his boss. “This is cruel.”
It didn’t seem possible and yet his galloping heart went full steam ahead and he needed to know why … after all this time.
Th
e last time he’d spoken with one of her brothers .. what was it … three years now? She’d still been in Galway. He hadn’t asked after her, he couldn’t, he didn’t want the details of her marriage. At the time it would have killed him.
It was only the sudden shriek of an infant from upstairs that got him moving.
He made up a bottle, grabbed some baby cookies, collected leggings, a T-shirt and a sweater for Aoife, along with socks from the charity box and then he rooted around for a few items of clothing she could use for the baby. Diapers included.
With his loot in his arms he took the stairs two at a time, eagerness dogging his steps as he made his way back to her.
He found her exactly where he’d left her, as if she’d been too afraid to rumple the bed or even turn down the covers. Frowning, he dropped the clothes on an armchair next to a bureau and offered her the bottle. “I cooled it down, I hope this will do for the little one. She sounds hungry. And there’s a few things there for her to wear. We can get everything you need tomorrow.”
“I can’t ask that of you, Danny.”
The moment the bottle was popped into the young one’s mouth she started to suck and mewl at the same time, making Danny grin. “She was hungry.”
“Yeah, it’s been a while since her last feed.”
He felt his stomach twist into a hard ball.
His protective instincts rose to the surface and demanded he do something about it, or he wouldn’t be able to think about another thing.
Without saying a word, he turned on his heel and left her there.
Minutes later he returned holding a plate in one hand, heavy with hastily made grilled cheese, with a side of pickled onions and in his other hand he held a can of pop.
Thankfully she wasn’t asleep yet. Still on the edge of the bed cradling a now sleeping baby. Her cheeks rosy from milk exertion no doubt.
He smiled to himself, feeling the pinch of seeing Aoife with a baby.
She looked like a natural and the way she gazed down at Misha, it was obvious she was a doting ma.
“Here, I brought you something to eat.” He’d unconsciously made her favorite.
“Oh,” she blinked, as if it hadn’t occurred to her he’d feed her.
“Aoife, we really need to talk, you know that.”
