“Alright. You’re the boss.”
“I’ll be over there in a minute.” I cross my arms as I lean against my car, staring up at the Lucky’s sign. If I let this place go, it would be twenty years of my grandpa’s hard work down the drain. There are a lot of memories here. The earliest one I can remember is my dad’s birthday. The entire town had come, and there were balloons everywhere. There was enough cake, food, and beer for the entire town to have for days. A live band played, and Da had taken Ma's hand, dancing with her all night. He hadn’t paid much attention to anyone else. He always said he appreciated the love on his birthday, but the ones who deserved his love the most were his family members. His wife, especially. He danced with her until she had to take off her heels. I remember because she had made me hold them all night so she wouldn't lose them. When we got home, she had to soak her feet and Da had massaged them. He was so in love with Ma.
I take out my phone and shoot a text to Gwen, and then I dial my mom. It rings for a few seconds before her strong Irish accent comes through on the other end. “Reilly? Is everything okay?”
Jeez, I’ve been a real arse about calling Ma. I haven’t talked to her much since we got the money. “Just wondering how yer settling into the new house.” She had moved back to Ireland. I guess that’s another reason why we haven’t talked much. Different time zones often cause that sort of thing.
“Ye know I love it here, but what’s going on, Reilly? Ye don’t just up and call unless something is on ye mind.”
“I can’t call to see how me own Ma is doing?” I kick the pavement, frustrated that I had been such a bad son.
“Ye can. I miss ye, but why are ye really calling?”
I sigh, leaning back on the hood of my car. I’m a grown man−almost thirty years old−calling his mom for advice. “Ye won’t believe what Grandpa did, Ma. He put a stipulation in the will that I wasn’t allowed to know about until two weeks before St. Patrick’s Day. If I don’t find a wife before that day, I'll lose the bar.”
Her laughter screams through the speaker, making me wince. “Rory!” she shouts at one of my cousins. “Ye won’t believe what Lucky did!” Great. Now she was telling the family. Pretty soon, the entire O’Hara clan’s laughter becomes contagious to the point where I can’t keep from smiling. “He always had a wicked sense of humor,” she says between breaths. Why is my torture so funny to her? “Well, maybe you’ll finally ask Anthony’s sister out. Yer always been sweet with her.”
I don’t say anything. I tap my fingers against the hood of the car, debating on how much I wanted to share. “How do ye know I’m sweet for her?”
“I’ve always seen ye eyes wanderin’ to her. Ain’t nothing wrong with that, ye know.”
“She’s off-limits,” I repeat the same thing I’ve told myself for the last three weeks. By now, I’m just trying to convince myself.
“Oh, silly boy. Love has no boundaries.”
“They do when boundaries are created,” I mutter, hoping she doesn’t hear me.
“Reilly O’Hara, what did you do? I swear, I’ll fly there from Ireland if ye hurt that girl.”
“Aye, I know. I just… I can’t do that to Anthony. He’d be pissed. He told me himself a few weeks ago that he didn’t want any of his friends dating his sister, and that he appreciated the fact that I never went after her.”
“He said those words? Those exact words? Ye have a tendency of overthinking.”
I think back to our conversation about Grayson when Anthony came to the bar to have a few drinks. He said he appreciated it. I hadn’t misunderstood that. “Maybe not those exact words, but that was the meaning.”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“And lose him?”
“Would ye rather lose her?”
The wind blows over me, cooling my feverish skin, as I lie on the hood of my car, staring at the pub. “Of course not. I’ve finally had a dose of what it’s like to be with her, and I don’t think I could go the rest of my life without it.”
“Well, Anthony’s ye best friend, Reilly. I understand ye don’t want to upset him, but do ye really think he doesn’t know how ye feel about her? Everyone else does, for goodness sake. Ye look at her how ye father used to look at me.”
Emotion clogs my throat when I think of him. “Ye miss Da? Do ye ever see yerself moving on?”
“No. He was the only one who could ever have me heart, Reilly. A love like that—the kind that the universe shifts for—that’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I’m happy with that. I’ll be waitin’ for him on the other side, where I know he’ll be waitin’ for me. And my heart will finally be whole again.”
A tear runs down my cheek, not only from missing Da, but from missing Grandpa, too. “I wish he was here. Grandpa Lucky, too. I could really benefit from talking to them right now. I’m lost.”
“No, ye ain’t. Ye know what ye want to do, but ye aren’t doing it. The only one ye are hurting here is you. Do ye think she will wait around forever? She’ll move on. And you’ll always wonder what could have been instead of making it your reality.”
I sit up, letting her words roll around in my head. “Yer right.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m ye mother. Mothers are always right.”
“Aye. Alright. I need to go. Oh, wait. I forgot to tell ye. I bought Gredence Place!”
“That old, rundown castle? Why?”
“Because Gwen loves it.”
She chuckles, sighing my name before hanging up the phone. I don’t know what it is, but her words ignite something in me. I love Gwen. I need her more than anything this world could ever offer me. I get into my car and head toward Gredence Place. I want it to be done the way she envisions it. I want to pay more if it means getting it done quicker, because the next time I have her in my arms at night, I want it to be in our bed.
First, I have a lot of apologizing to do for acting like such an arse. If she doesn’t want to take me back, I deserve it. I’ll try for the rest of my life to get her back, because she is the only woman that owns my heart, like Ma said about Da. A conversation with Anthony can’t wait. I need to talk to him now. I dial his number, hoping he’ll answer, so he can meet me at Gredence Place. I think about how the conversation would go down. He’d be happy for me, and then we’d cheer and have a beer. I’d show him around the place and make sure he had an open invitation to come see his nieces and nephews whenever he wanted. We’d laugh and everything would be right in the world.
Alright, so it’s wishful thinking on my end, but I know I have to talk to him. “Hi, you’ve reached Anthony. Sorry I couldn’t get to the phone. Leave your name and number, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
Right. He’s with a client. He mentioned that earlier.
I clear my throat when the phone beeps. “Hey, Anthony. It’s Reilly. Listen…” I sigh, running my hand through my beard. “I really need to talk to you. Okay? It’s about Gwen. Everything is fine, but call me back, okay? I’d love to show you Gredence Place and we can talk there. Alright, lad. I’ll see you later. Bye.” I hang up the phone, tossing it onto the passenger seat, and I press the gas, speeding down the road. Eventually, I take a left turn and pull into the iron gates of my new home.
I need to figure out how to make this the best place for her. I want the front yard to have flowers, bushes, trees, and plants. And a swing. And a few rockers. She loves those. I climb up the steps of the house and go inside without a key, now that the door has been removed. “Hello? Anyone here?”
“Back here!” Fred shouts from the other living room. A few people are upstairs and another few are ripping out a wall. I cringe when I see how rotted the wood is. Shite, this project might take months. I don’t have months. I need this done yesterday.
“Hi, Fred,” I greet him, kicking some old flooring out of the way. He had demolished everything. Nothing is left except the essential bones of the house to keep it from falling in on itself.
He wipes his brow and reaches for my
hand. “We’ve got our work cut out for us here.”
“How long do you think it will take?”
“Six months, at least. Everything needs to be replaced, from the flooring to the roof. The pipes, the electrical, and even the door knobs. Hell, I don’t know how this thing is still standing.”
“I’ll give you and your crew monetary incentive if you can get it done in three months.”
“How much of an incentive?” he asks with a raised brow. A few of his team members walk by with tools and saws. He nods and waits to speak until we are alone again.
“Three hundred thousand?” I whisper, smiling as someone else walks by.
“Are you serious? On top of what you’re already paying us?”
“On top of that. And if you can get it done quicker, we will talk about even more money.”
The man holds out his hand. “You have yourself a deal.”
“Great. If there are any more issues, don’t call me. Just take care of it. I’ll drop by every now and then. I just want it done. Money isn’t a problem.” I’m going to embrace this money now. Fuck keeping it a secret.
What’s next?
I need a ring. A ring so big and perfect, Gwen won’t be able to say no to me. I mean, she still might say no… just to spite me.
That’s alright. I’m ready to fight for her, like I should have been doing all along. I know I’m an idiot. I should make that into the sign. And when I get down on one knee, I should do it in front of everyone.
I head down the porch with a pep in my step, reaching for my phone so I can look up the best places to buy an engagement ring. I don’t want to go to Zales or Kay’s. Those are too basic. I don’t want to get her something everyone has, because she’s someone who is very unique and special to me, so she deserves the best.
When Google finally opens, Camilla's name flashes across the screen. Huh... That’s odd. She never calls me. “Hello?” I ask, a bit confused.
She sniffles. “Reilly?”
I hold onto the handle of the car door, pausing as soon as I hear the tears in her voice. “Camilla…what’s wrong? Is Gwen okay?” My heart races. I feel the blood rush to my ears as she explains what’s going on. My stomach rolls, and I get dizzy.
“Mr. O’Hara?” someone shouts, but I stumble away from my car as the world tilts. “Mr. O’Hara!” I fall into someone’s arms as they lay me down. My vision blurs and my heart is racing. I try to collect myself, but all I can do is sit there in shock.
I might not get the chance to tell Anthony anything after all.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gwendolyn
Hospitals are always so cold and lifeless. Which is odd, considering the reason they exist is for the complete opposite reason. I sit in an old, tattered, grey chair, shaking my legs as we wait for the news. I can’t believe we’re all sitting here. Mills, Mom, Dad, and I sit in a row, holding each other’s hands. My mom has her face buried in my dad’s chest, sobbing. My dad stares at the floor, blinking every few minutes, like he has to remind himself that he’s here. I press the heel of my hands to my eyes in order to dry them off. A constant waterfall of worry—it’s the only way I know how to explain it.
We’ve been here almost all night, but I’m not sleepy at all. All I can do is sit and wait.
Mills called Reilly. He deserves to know. After all, it’s his best friend in the operating room. I’d tried to call him, but she’d taken the phone away from me because my hands were shaking. He’d said he was on his way, but it takes over two hours to get to this hospital. Anthony had been airlifted so one of the best neurosurgeons in the country could operate on him, but we haven’t received an update yet. That’s good, right? No news is good news.
I lift my head and stare at the tile floor. My eyes try to focus despite the water that fills them. One tear falls as I slide my eyes to the left, watching the doors slide open for a few people. I slide my gaze to the right, causing another drop to fall as doctors and nurses wheel people through the double doors.
Through those doors, my brother is hanging on by a thread.
“What is taking so long? We should have heard something by now.”
I stare at my dad, who holds my mom’s hand for support, leaning his cheek against her head and blinking away tears. “No news is good news, Dad. Just keep thinking about that,” I say, trying to stay positive.
He nods, running his fingers through my mom’s hair. “I know. I just…I need answers. We need answers.”
I keep wondering what the hell happened. The only person that knows for sure is Anthony, and if he dies, he’ll die knowing who shot him, too. I shake my head at that thought. I refuse to believe he will die. He’s strong and stubborn. He would refuse to die just so that he could take the bastard to court and throw him in jail. “He is going to be fine,” I say.
“A gunshot wound to the head isn’t fine, Gwen!” my mom shouts at me. My dad whispers something into her ear, and I don’t hear what he says, but it calms her down slightly. I don’t blame her for snapping at me. She has no one to blame for what happened. “I’m sorry, Bunny. I feel like I’m losing my mind.” She wipes her nose on my dad’s sleeve, and his usual sarcastic snip didn’t follow this time.
This is real.
“I need some air.” I stand up and make my way to the door, pushing past so many people.
“Gwen!” Mills calls after me.
“Gwendolyn!” my dad yells, causing a few heads to turn my way as I run out of the building. I run smack into a wide chest. “Sorry," I mutter.
Familiar arms tighten around me. “Gwenie! It’s me.”
I completely break when I hear Reilly’s voice. I cup my hands over my face and my shoulders shake. He holds me as I cry. His strong arms envelop me, and his hand presses my head into his chest. I forget all the reasons why we can’t be together, all the reasons I’m mad at him, and lean back, staring into his red, puffy eyes.
“How is he?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t heard anything. I’m so scared, Reilly. I’m so scared.”
“Shhh, I know. I know, love.” He kisses the top of my head. “He’s strong. He will pull through.”
“Do you know what happened?” he asks, lacing my hand through his and pulling me toward the door.
I stop him as the doors open. “I can’t go in there right now. I’ve been in there for hours. I need space.” I let go of his hand so he can make his own decision, and stroll toward the bench to our right. I drop to the bench, zipping my hoodie up to my neck to fend off the chilly breeze.
His hand lands on my shoulder, and I stare up at him. His blue eyes bring me so much comfort. “I’m going to go check on yer parents and Camilla, and see if I can’t get any updates, okay?”
My lip trembles. “But you’ll be back?” My eyes water again, afraid that the little amount of relief I feel will be short-lived.
“I’ll always be back, Gwenie.” He brings my hand to his lips and places a soft kiss on the pads of my fingers before disappearing through the automatic doors.
I sit there, dazed and confused. I don’t understand how all of this can be happening. I saw Anthony earlier at the pub. Everything was fine. I stare at the sky, watching the clouds roll in against the night. They aren’t dark like rain clouds, but instead, they are a light grey, covering the entire sky. They match my gloomy mood.
I can’t stop thinking about all those years I spent away from home. All those times fighting with Anthony for no reason. All those times I ignored his calls because I didn’t want to listen to him give me another lecture about how I need to come home. All those times I could have been a better sister and I wasn’t. “Oh god," I sob, choking as I try to breathe despite the pain ripping through me. All those times…
“Gwenie!”
Strong arms pick me up and set me back down on the bench. I don’t remember falling to the ground. I climb on Reilly’s lap and hide my face in his neck, not caring who can see. I need to be close to him. I need to feel his strength
wrapping around me. Grounding me. Centering me.
“It’s okay, Gwenie. It’s okay. He is still in surgery. He is alive. Ye hear that?” Reilly rocks me, petting my back as a way of trying to calm me down. “He is going to be okay.” One of his arms wraps around my stomach while the other runs fingers through my hair. He rears back and stares into my eyes. He looks determined and sure. Like even if my world has turned upside down, he’s taking the weight of it and slowly pushing it right-side up. He wipes my tears, giving me a sad smile. I know he’s been crying because his eyes are red and swollen, but he keeps it together for me. “I brought you a coffee.” He holds up a cup and puts it in front of me.
Coffee usually smells amazing. I crave it. I can’t live without it. But when he puts it right in front of my face, the aroma drifts through my nostrils and my stomach flips. I manage to lean over the bench just in time before throwing up the small amount of ginger ale and crackers I had earlier today. He rubs my back and kisses my cheek. “Ye alright, love? It’s got to be the stress.”
I nod, wishing I had a napkin to wipe my mouth on.
“Here, I got ye a bottle of water, too, just in case. I guess ye don’t want the bagel."
I hurl again, but this time, nothing comes out. I dry heave instead, clutching my stomach when it becomes painful.
“Ye have me worried, Gwenie. Maybe a doctor should check you out while we are here.” He moves to stand, but I push him back down, shaking my head.
I unscrew the water bottle and wrap my lips around the top. Reilly’s hand stops me. “Don’t chug it. Sip it, okay? I don’t think your stomach can handle it.” He taps my nose, trying to be cute.
“Yeah,” I agree, taking baby sips. The cold water soothes the back of my burning throat and I sigh. My empty stomach immediately cools, and I feel the liquid sloshing around. I don’t like that. Maybe I want to eat the bagel after all. “Can you tear me off a piece of that bagel, please?”
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