by L. A. Casey
“Well.” Bronagh frowned. “You were honest. Brutally honest.”
“I know.”
“I still can’t wrap me head around this, though,” Bronagh said with furrowed brows. “You’re sleepin’ with Dante Collins? He is so not your type and a lot older than you are. How the hell did it even happen?”
I gritted my teeth to stop myself from calling Bronagh on her shock that someone as hot as Dante would sleep with someone as homely as me, but I held back and exhaled a deep breath.
“It’s only been goin’ on a few months.” I shrugged. “D’ye remember when I got that flat tyre a while back? Aideen told me to go to ’er da’s garage, so I went, and Dante was the one who dealt with it for me. We chatted, and I don’t know, we just clicked.”
“I can buy that.” She nodded. “I can buy that you both clicked and became friends, but fuck buddies? That is not you at all, Lana.”
Alannah.
I shrugged once more. “He sent me a text one night to see what I was doin’. I was watchin’ Netflix and invited ’im over. He accepted, and we—”
“Netflix and chilled?”
“Precisely.”
She stared at me, and I knew exactly what she was thinking.
“You think I’m not actin’ like meself, don’t you?”
A blush stained her cheeks as she nodded.
I gnawed on my lower lip. “If I tell you this, please don’t tell Aideen.”
Bronagh crossed her finger over her heart. “Not a word.”
“Dante started out as an experiment,” I said in a rushed breath.
The admission took a huge weight I didn’t realise I was carrying off my shoulders.
Bronagh’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“Please.” Bronagh waved her hand. “Explain yourself.”
Where to begin?
“Okay.” I exhaled. “So, Dante has a long list of women he has bedded, he doesn’t do long-term relationships, he is outgoin’, charmin’, ridiculously attractive, carin’, loyal to his family ... who does that remind you of?”
Bronagh blinked. “Any one of the brothers before they settled, but I’m goin’ to go with Damien since he is your centre.”
I ignored her observation of him being my centre, and focused on the mention of him.
“Bingo.”
My friend furrowed her brows. “You’re sleepin’ with Dante because he is like Damien?”
“Exactly.”
“I know there is a point to this,” Bronagh said as she rubbed her temples, “but I have pregnancy brain, so go ahead and break it down for me, babe.”
My lips twitched.
“I always blamed me age, cluelessness, and stupid hormones for gettin’ tangled up with Damien, and I wanted to prove to meself that those trivial things really were the cause for how much I liked ’im. So, when the opportunity to bed Dante arose, I jumped at it, and him, and put me theory to the test.”
“And your theory was?”
“That I could have casual no-strings-attached sex with someone like Damien and not be affected like I once was.”
Bronagh raised a brow. “And how is that workin’ out for you?”
“Quite well,” I said proudly. “I have no romantic interest in Dante; it’s purely physical.”
“Your theory won’t exactly prove anythin’, though.” Bronagh paused then said, “Well, not unless ...”
“Unless what?” I asked.
“Unless Damien is the person you bed and then walk away from.”
I froze. “That’s stupid, Bee.”
She was suggesting I have sex with the man it took me years to get over?
Are you really over him, though?
I gritted my teeth at my thoughts as my friend deadpanned.
“You just told me you’re havin’ sex with Dante Collins because he is like Damien, and you want to prove you could lay ’im and leave ’im. It’s great that you can have casual sex with Dante, but it proves nothin’ unless you lay and leave the man who is behind this theory of yours in the first place, and that, me dear friend, is Damien Slater.”
I refused to allow myself to process any of what Bronagh said.
I scowled. “I thought you said you had pregnancy brain?”
She grinned. “I have me moments.”
Have them somewhere else.
“Can we not talk about Damien?” I almost pleaded. “I really don’t want to think about ’im right now.”
Bronagh watched me. “You hurt ’im, ye’know?”
The hurt that dwelled in his eyes when I told him about Dante flashed across my mind, and I tensed.
“What are you talkin’ ’bout?” I asked, my tone clipped.
Bronagh didn’t back down. “Damien’s being tryin’ with you, Lana. Ye’know he has.”
Alannah.
“I don’t know anythin’ of the sort—”
“Keela has you drunk off your arse on video acknowledgin’ that ye’know exactly what I’m talkin’ ’bout.”
I hugged the pillow in my grasp tighter. I knew damn well that Damien was tryin’ to build something with me; I just didn’t need everyone else telling me about something I already knew. It made staying angry with him extremely hard.
“I thought you were supposed to be my friend?” I demanded of Bronagh, my gaze hard.
“I am your friend, ye’eejit,” she bit back, her own eyes narrowing. “But I’m Damien’s friend too, and instead of hidin’ out ’ere and feelin’ sorry for yourself, you should get your arse ’round to Branna and Ryder’s place and talk to Damien. You both got yourselves into this situation, and only the two of you can get yourselves out of it.”
I shoved my pillow off my lap and angrily got to my feet.
“Maybe you should leave,” I told Bronagh. “I have work to do.”
“Lana—”
“Alannah,” I snapped. “Me name is Alannah.”
“What is your problem?” Bronagh demanded. “Why do you correct everyone when they call you Lana?”
“Because Damien called me it first, and every single time someone else says it, it reminds me of ’im! Now, like I said, I have work to do.”
She stood up. “Don’t toss me aside ’cause ye’don’t like hearin’ the truth, ye’gobshite. Seven days ago, you told Damien you were ready to deal with everythin’ between you two, so what’s changed since then?”
Everything.
“Nothin’.”
“Don’t bullshit me.” Bronagh glared. “I know you better than ye’know yourself, so cut this act and talk to me.”
It was impossible to win an argument against her!
“You were there,” I said, willing myself not to get upset. “You heard ’im sayin’ he was goin’ out to ‘move on’,” I said using my fingers as air quotes around the words. “We both know what he meant by that. Don’t pretend like ye’don’t.”
He was going to “move on” between the thighs of another woman. I shouldn’t have cared about it, but I did, and I hated that.
“The farthest he got was to the Jobey where he was joined by his brothers and drank ’imself into oblivion.”
My heart slammed into my chest, and I suddenly felt sick.
“He ... he didn’t have sex with a random woman?”
Bronagh shook her head, and my heart leaped with the action.
“He drank ’imself sick and only got over his hangover three days ago. He’s ... in a bad way, and that has nothin’ to do with bein’ sick from drinkin’. He got into a fight with Dante at work as well, so that hasn’t helped matters.”
I refused to allow myself to feel any guilt, but it was difficult.
“And everyone blames me?”
She had the decency to blush. “We’re not blamin’ you; you both are the reason for your problems.”
“The only problem I have is the situation with me da. Other than that, I am perfectly—”
“Don’t you bloody dare say
you’re fine,” Bronagh cut me off. “Because you’re not. Stop denyin’ shite that’s starin’ you in the face. It makes you look thick.”
I looked away from her.
“I was never in a relationship with ’im, Bronagh. It was just sex; sex that took place over six years ago. It’s not a big deal.”
“Who are you tryin’ to convince, me or yourself?”
I remained mute.
“I know you’ve a lot goin’ on with your parents and your job, but Damien is a huge part of why you’re feelin’ out of sorts.”
I sighed. “What do you want me to do, Bronagh?”
“Talk to Damien,” she replied. “That’s all I ask. Just talk to each other.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll respect your decision, but I will also tell you how dopey you would be to refuse. You can say ye’don’t care about Damien as much as you like, but your actions say differently. Look at you, you’re almost cryin’ because I’m sayin’ this.”
I hated that my eyes stung with unshed tears.
“This is so stupid,” I grumbled, and wiped my eyes before my tears had a chance to fall.
“Look,” Bronagh said, coming over and squatting before me when I sat back down. “I love you, and I want to see you happy. Whether it’s with Damien in or out of your life, but trust me, you will be plagued with what-ifs if you don’t clear the air with ’im.”
I swallowed. “I’ll ... consider speakin’ to ’im.”
Bronagh winked. “Atta girl.”
“That bein’ said,” I continued, “he couldn’t get away from me quick enough last week, so he’ll probably run when he sees me comin’ his way.”
“Probably.” She grinned. “You’ll just have to bide your time, pick your moment, and corner ’im when he least expects it.”
“He always seems to see me before I see ’im. I won’t be able to pull the wool over his watchful eyes.”
“If that happens, I’ll just text you when he is in me house, and I’ll lock the doors so he can’t leave. Simple.”
That was such a Bronagh thing to say.
I shook my head. “You’re crazy.”
“Ye’know it,” she replied and gave me a hug before she stood upright. “I’ve to get goin’. Dominic is downstairs in the car with Georgie. I told him if I couldn’t talk sense into you in fifteen minutes, then he could come up and have a turn.”
“Go.” I tittered. “Before the good lookin’ fucker appears, and I get arrested for attempted murder.”
Bronagh left my apartment, laughing as she went. When she closed the door behind her, my smile remained on my face but only for a few moments. As much as I hated to admit it, Bronagh was right. I did need to talk to Damien. I had no clue what to say to him, but a conversation had to take place, and the thought made me extremely nervous.
I stood, then went into my bedroom and changed into black leggings, a black tank top, and a blue plaid, oversized, buttoned up shirt that I rolled up to the elbows. Each item of clothing had a stain of paint, charcoal, or ink of some kind on them, and the outfit was my go-to whenever I wanted to sketch and paint. Right now, I needed to do both.
I took my easel out of my storage press and set it up. Usually, whenever I painted, it was on paper, but today, something told me I needed to paint on canvas. I didn’t have many of them. In fact, I only had six remaining from the bundle of ten that Bronagh and Nico got me for my birthday a few months ago, so I was selective about what I used them for because I didn’t have the money to replace them just yet. I grabbed the biggest one, placed it on the coffee table next to my easel, and stared at it for a little while. I mulled over what paints I wanted to use, and whether I wanted it to be in colour.
I settled on dark colours to reflect my mood.
I grabbed my pencils, then settling on my settee, I crossed my legs, placed my canvas on my lap, and got to work. I hadn’t decided on what to sketch until the second I touched the sharpened lead to the canvas. And when my hand automatically curved and drew the same pair of eyes I saw in my dreams every night, I realised I wasn’t drawing a what.
It was a who.
When I woke up the following morning, I had a plan. I decided to take Bronagh’s advice from yesterday and put it to the test. I wanted to talk ... but not to Damien. I had to build up to that. The person who I wanted to speak to lived eight floors above me, and as I stood outside her apartment door, I prayed she was in a good mood. I had sent her a text to let her know I wanted to speak to her, and she acknowledged the text and told me to come up to her apartment whenever I was ready.
That was five hours ago, and I was just now finding myself in front of her door. Before I could chicken out, I lifted my arm and knocked firmly on the dark wood. Dropping my arm back to my side, I began to sweat bullets.
“I’ve got it.”
The hollering voice belonged to none other than Kane Slater.
Out of all the Slater brothers, Kane was the one who I was least close to. We didn’t do a lot of talking even though we were in each other’s company a lot. It wasn’t awkward because I knew how reserved he was, but my silence wasn’t because I was reserved; it was because of a conversation I had with him when I was eighteen. He had asked me a bunch of questions about my friendship with Bronagh that didn’t sit well with me, so I called him out on it. He had since apologised, but I never forgot that conversation, and thus remained very aware whenever I was in Kane’s presence, which resulted in my silence.
I smiled politely when the door opened, and Kane gave me a welcoming nod in response.
“Alannah.”
“Kane.”
I could’ve sworn I saw his lips twitch, but I wasn’t sure, so I didn’t mention it. Instead, I scanned his face and focused on his bruised jaw, the one that Dante had mentioned he had when I spoke to him on the phone two nights ago. It looked worse than I thought it would have.
“Let me guess,” I drawled. “The other lad looks worse?”
That earned me a grin.
“They both do,” he replied, “but I can’t take credit. Date and Damien can hold their own, which resulted in them both looking worse for wear.”
I stepped inside the apartment when Kane shuffled back and gestured for me to enter.
“Just what I need,” I grumbled. “Two eejits fightin’ over somethin’ stupid.”
Kane closed the door. “You think you’re something stupid?”
I turned away from him.
“They weren’t fightin’ over me. They were fightin’ over bruised egos.” He didn’t reply, so I asked, “Where’s Aideen? I want to get this conversation over and done with as soon as possible.”
“She’s in the bedroom.”
I hesitated. “Is she decent?”
I had to ask. Aideen was engaged to a Slater brother, after all, and that meant if you didn’t announce your presence whenever you entered a house, you were sure to get an eyeful of sweaty bodies humping one another. I’d learned that the hard way a few too many times before.
Kane snorted. “She is.”
“Thanks,” I said, and without another word, I walked away from Kane and in the direction of his and Aideen’s bedroom.
I knocked on the door when I was close enough to do so.
“It’s me,” I said, though I wasn’t sure why I was announcing myself. She knew it was me because Kane sure as hell wouldn’t knock on his own bedroom door and sound his name.
“Come in,” Aideen called.
I took a breath, exhaled, then opened the door. I jumped with fright when a scream sounded, then I laughed. Jax, who was lying on the bed, looked up when he heard the door open and screamed with delight when he saw me.
“Hey, little man,” I beamed.
I stepped into the room and held my arms out to him as he was already reaching for me, his baby language in full swing. Picking him up when I was close enough to do so, I busied myself with him for a few moments. When I peeked up at Aideen, she was staring at me as Lo
cke slept in her arms.
“How long?”
I didn’t even try to play dumb about what she was asking.
“Four months.”
Aideen absorbed this. “Not since Damien came home then?”
I shook my head. “Just the past four months.”
“Are you both together?”
“No,” I answered. “We decided we’re better at bein’ friends. I love your brother but not in a romantic way. He has been me rock these past few months, and to be honest, without the relationship we shared, I may have had a meltdown sooner than a week ago. Damien bein’ back has messed with me head this past year and a half, and Dante kept me sane just when I thought I might implode.”
“Then I’m glad,” Aideen said, surprising the hell out of me. “I’m glad he and the relationship you both shared helped you.”
She didn’t look all that glad, and it worried me.
“Do you hate me?”
Aideen balked. “I should smack you for even askin’ that.”
I leaned back just in case she got slap happy.
“No,” she continued. “I do not hate you, and I will never hate you.”
My shoulders sagged with relief.
“I thought you might, given who Dante is to you.”
“Alannah.” Aideen sighed. “I’m not jumpin’ for joy that you had this secret relationship with me brother. If you had a relationship with ’im, without the secret part, I’d be delighted for you both. I just ... it’s just ... we’re friends. Since I got pregnant with Jax, we have both become really close. We’re a big part of the other’s life, and I truly love you. It just caught me off guard that you’d keep this from me. I know it was your decision, and you had your reasons, but I can’t help but feel upset.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry. I could just never pluck up the courage to tell you about it. To tell anyone about it, to be honest.”
“I know,” Aideen said, “and that’s me own fault for makin’ you feel that you couldn’t talk to me about it, so I’m sorry.”
I blinked and didn’t know what to say, so I stayed mute.
“How are you doin’?” she asked me. “Really?”
