by Maura Rose
The Patrick that she’d known would never have been so humble. He never would’ve admitted that he’d done anything wrong, or if he did, he would’ve brushed it off and told her she was overreacting and given her a million reasons why he’d done it.
But this was… mature. Thoughtful.
They’d had fun together. God, he’d made her laugh so much harder than anyone else. He’d made her feel light, like she could fly. Her family were all so serious. Even Kate, the artist of the family, was single-minded in her pursuit of her dancing career. With Patrick, Sinead could be relaxed and free.
Maybe she should go, just for old times’ sake? Just for the once?
It wasn’t like a single meeting meant they were in a relationship. She could spend one evening with him and it didn’t mean she was tied down. They were just going to catch up and she was going to see if the man she saw now truly was better than the man who’d hurt her.
Yes, just one night. For fun. No strings attached. Hanging out together.
Her heart whispered something different, but she was good at ignoring her heart. She’d been doing it for the past five years just fine, after all.
Chapter Five
Patrick honestly wasn’t sure she’d show up.
He went to the bench that they’d always sat on together, the one overlooking the water by the pier, and waited. It had a memorial plaque on it, for some couple from forever ago, who’d gotten the bench dedicated to them by their kids.
“That’ll be us someday,” Patrick had always promised Sinead, when they’d been dating.
He brought a book just in case, one of the ones that Mother had loved. She’d been a huge fan of historical fiction, and he’d never really taken to it, but he’d used to buy her a book every birthday. It was their thing.
Maybe now that he was older he’d appreciate those books.
He figured he’d wait an hour, just in case. Sinead might have conflicted feelings about coming and he didn’t want to leave after only a half hour of waiting. He wanted her to know that he was willing to wait for her.
But at 6:15, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
He looked up.
Sinead smiled hesitantly, like she was making herself do it and unsure if this was even the right idea. Patrick couldn’t blame her.
“Hey.”
She looked beautiful, her light blonde hair done up in a simple braid, her eyes catching the light and bringing out the green in the gray. She was just wearing jeans and a shirt, clearly trying not to dress up too much for this.
Patrick didn’t mind. This was supposed to be casual. He was just in jeans and a shirt himself.
He stood up. “Hey. I’m glad you could make it.”
“I wasn’t sure,” Sinead admitted. “But, um, I figured we should catch up. I’m curious to know what you’ve been up to.”
Patrick gestured towards the pier and the carnival. “Shall we?”
It used to be that when they did this Sinead would take his arm, but now she kept a careful distance between them. Patrick dug his hands into his pockets as they walked, pausing by a hot dog stand. “You want one?”
Sinead smiled ruefully, like she was angry with herself for being amused. “Sure, I’m starved.”
They got cotton candy as well, since that had always been her favorite. “What have you been up to?” he asked, feeling awkward as they wandered around, looking at all the games they’d used to play—or that he’d used to play and win prizes for her.
“Nothing as exciting as what you’ve been doing, I’m sure.” Sinead arched an eyebrow at him. She’d always had this way of looking at him that seemed to strip the layers away and reveal who he really was, how he was really feeling. “What did you get up to?”
Patrick blew out a breath. “I got up to a lot of illegal shit, got up to getting my ass kicked, got up to running away from my problems. I really… look, I didn’t ask you here so that I could dump on you. I did that way too much when we were younger. Like you were my therapist or something.”
Sinead laughed, sounding surprised by it. “Okay, so maybe you did, a little.” She cleared her throat. “And how does that make you feel?”
Patrick chuckled. “I was such an asshole.”
“Maybe. But you could charm the pants off of anyone, including me.”
“Literally, a few times.”
“Hardy har har.”
They passed by the ring toss game, and Patrick grinned, just barely resisting the urge to tug on Sinead’s hand. It was hard, having her so close and not touching her. “Hey, I bet I could still win you a stuffed animal with that.”
She rolled her eyes. “When was the last time you even played this game? At least five years.”
“If you’ve got a gift for it, you’ve got a gift for it,” Patrick replied, walking up to the booth.
There’d been a time where she would try and distract him while he did it, whispering in his ear, touching him, kissing him on the cheek or the neck. Sinead kept a distance this time, watching him with an amused smirk as he tried his luck.
He wasn’t as good as he had been, Patrick had to admit. But he’d always had damn good hand-eye coordination. It was what had made him such a good street racer. They got to win a small prize and he gestured at the row of small stuffed animals. “Take your pick.”
Sinead gave him a mock glare, then selected a stuffed penguin. “His name is Lawrence.”
“Why do you always give them the kind of names that pretentious people with British accents have?”
“Because he’s a penguin, and penguins are distinguished. Unlike some people I could name.”
Patrick snorted, ignoring the way that he melted a little at her, how sweet and adorable she still was. Not that Sinead was some blushing naïve girl, far from it. In fact, he could distinctly recall quite a few instances where she hadn’t been innocent in the slightest.
But Sinead had something very heartfelt about her and very genuine, and unapologetic about who she was.
“I should’ve left you a note,” he blurted out.
Sinead raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is that so.”
“I should’ve told you that I was leaving, even if I didn’t explain why. Just up and disappearing like that was wrong.”
Sinead tucked Lawrence the penguin under her arm and walked along, forcing Patrick to walk to keep up with her. “I should’ve expected it,” she said at last. “After all the other stunts that you pulled.”
“That’s the thing, you should’ve expected better. You shouldn’t have let me treat you like that for so long.”
“Are you sure this is the kind of thing you want to be talking about? When you’re supposedly trying to win me back?”
“Well, why wouldn’t it be? I would’ve thought that you’d appreciate an apology.”
Sinead stopped walking. “I do, but I also don’t want to hash over and over all the ways you broke my heart. I get it, you hurt me, I’m well aware of all the ways that you did that, I don’t need a reminder, thanks. I’d like this if we’re doing it to be about moving on. About who you are now, not how you were.”
“But I want to be clear that I understand what I did—”
“I know what you did!” Sinead snapped. “I was the one who was on the receiving end of all that you did! And I’d like to not talk about that any more than completely necessary because I’ve spent the last five years thinking about it and I’d like to not think about it anymore! Because the more I think about it, the less I want to give you a second chance because—words are great and all, they really are, I do appreciate them, I do, it’s important to hear them—but I need actions too, and so far you’ve taken me to the same place we always used to go. And that’s great for my nostalgia but it doesn’t bode all that well for showing that you’ve changed, has it?
“If you just—if you brought me here just to give me excuses and explanations, then I don’t want to have it, okay?” Sinead shook her head. “I shouldn’t have come here, this was a bad decis
ion, I should’ve just…”
Patrick grabbed her wrist lightly as she turned away. “Tell me what to do then, to make it right. If you don’t want me to ever mention our pasts again then I’ll do it. If there’s something in particular I can do instead of just say to make things better then tell me. I want to fix this, I want to make it right between us, Sinead, just tell me what it is.”
“I want you to stop being reckless and charming, all right?”
“Reckless I can try, not sure about—why the charming?”
Sinead glared at him. “Because you’re being all contrite and sweet and it’s not at all like you, but it’s exactly like you when you wanted me to forgive you after you’d screwed up again, and it’s messing with my head.”
“…so you need me to apologize for doing a good apology?” Patrick shook his head. “Look, this is how it is. I love you, I do, I always have, and I ran away from my family because I couldn’t face my mother’s death and the family without her and all the arguing and disappointing my brother and father that I saw on the horizon, and I was selfish, and that meant I left you behind as well. But I never stopped loving you, and I’m going to do what it takes to fix the wrong that I did you, all right?”
Sinead stared at him for a moment, her eyes gray and wet, her face flushed—and then she did the last thing Patrick ever expected from her.
She kissed him.
Chapter Six
It was insanely, stupidly, incredibly reckless, kissing Patrick Donaghue.
But she hadn’t been reckless in years, and he’d always been able to bring out that side of her.
He’d looked like it was tearing him apart not to touch her, to be with her, and the way that he’d said it so plainly, I love you, in a way that he’d never said it before, and her heart was all tangled up and it was a mess in her head and she just didn’t even know what to feel anymore.
Patrick kissed her back, automatically it seemed, and it was all-consuming and immolating just like it had been before. She sank into it, kissed him fiercely, wrapping her arms around him and dropping poor Lawrence in the process.
Patrick’s hands slid up her body, fingers splayed like he was re-mapping the curves of her, trying to memorize her all over again, his nails digging in a little like he wasn’t sure she was actually real.
God, it did something to her head, messed her up even further, to think that all these years while she’d been struggling to forget him and trying not to daydream about him that he’d been daydreaming about her, actively missing her, actively wanting her.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he whispered, even as he kissed her again, and again, his mouth trailing down her neck and making her shiver. They’d always been like tinder and flint, moth and flame, lighting each other up at only the slightest touch and igniting a forest fire. “C’mon, let’s go to our spot, let’s go…”
She knew the one. It was in one of the old storage sheds, and they’d snuck in there so many times as teenagers that she’d lost track. It was a great place to go, away from their parents, a place that wasn’t a sticky and dingy club bathroom or someplace too public or a hotel room they had to pay for.
This was such a bad idea.
…but one night of recklessness wasn’t going to kill her.
She grabbed Lawrence with one hand and Patrick with the other and dragged him down in between the buildings. It took them a while, since Patrick kept pressing her into the walls and kissing her, getting his hands up underneath her shirt, his thigh in between her legs, letting her grind down against it for a moment before dragging her further along. He was driving her insane, the way he always had, and it seemed that five years hadn’t let him forget that she went crazy when he got a little rough, or that her knees buckled when he kissed underneath her ear, or that she liked it when he tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth.
“You still carry your lockpicks?” she asked as they reached the door. It was locked, not surprisingly, but just one of those easily pickable padlocks.
Patrick flashed a grin at her. “You know I always do.”
He pulled them out of his pocket and got to work, dispatching the lock and then helping her inside. It was dark, and they stumbled around a bit, but then they found all the extra beach blankets that people rented out and got on a pile of those and that was all that she needed.
“We must’ve been the bane of the employees’ existence,” she whispered in between kisses as she yanked at Patrick’s clothes. “Using up all the towels and then shoving them in the laundry hamper.”
Patrick snorted in amusement, undoing her pants and shoving them down, then getting between her legs.
Sinead moaned, hooking her leg over his shoulder as Patrick licked his way up her thighs. Patrick had always been good at this, determined to be good, and oh god, oh god—
He dragged his tongue through her folds, swirling it around her clit, flicking it, then sliding back down again. Sinead’s back arched and she had to grab a hold of his hair for some kind of anchor as he twisted his tongue into her, making her shake and shudder. God, it felt so good, he felt so good, he always knew how to make her—
“Make some noise for me, beautiful,” Patrick whispered, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, his teeth scraping a little, sucking a bruise. “Missed hearing you.”
She moaned as he buried his face between her thighs again, licking and sucking, relentless. God she wanted more, she was so close, she wanted him inside her… she whimpered and got an encouraging suck from Patrick. She moaned again, and then she just couldn’t stop, begging for him in a whisper, please, please, please, I’m so close, fuck it had been so long she was so sensitive—
She spilled over with a sharp cry, probably one too loud for their location, but Patrick just laughed darkly against the most sensitive parts of her, licking her up like he was starving, and then crawled up her body to kiss her as she panted.
“Get inside me,” she whispered, undoing his pants and shoving them down.
“I don’t have—”
“Are you clean? I’m on the pill.”
Patrick nodded. “Yeah, got tested—”
“Then I trust you.”
He kissed her once, swiftly, like her trust meant the world to him even if it was just in this context, and then he was sliding two fingers inside of her as if to double check that she was actually ready, and then—oh then—
She hadn’t been with anyone in years. After Patrick had left and it was clear that he wasn’t coming back, not even for the funeral, she’d found some random men and had a few hook-ups, had tried to meet some nice man and move on. But she hadn’t been able to.
It was overwhelming, then, feeling that stretch all over again, feeling full, feeling stuffed almost, shivering with stimulation as Patrick slowly, patiently, slid into her. He watched her face for any sign of discomfort, adjusting until she made a startled noise, her eyes flying wide open. “There, there, there,” she panted. Oh god, that felt good, that felt so incredibly good…
Patrick planted his hands on either side of her, getting leverage to thrust in deeper, harder, and she cried out, laughing as he kissed her to keep her quiet. God, he wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop hitting that perfect spot, fuck, and then he was shoving her shirt up out of the way and sucking at her breasts and she was clawing at his back and it was so good, so good, fuck, she was so close, it was like dynamite, the barrel exploding inside of her—
She bit down hard on Patrick’s lip as she came, shuddering, clenching, and she could feel him thrusting two, three more times with wild abandon, shoving himself into her, and then he was coming, marking her and she felt dirty in the best way, reckless, like a teenager all over again.
God, no wonder she’d stuck around with him for so long.
Patrick fell to the side so that he wouldn’t crush her, his arm falling around her as he searched for a towel to clean them up. “I suppose you’ll say that’s for old time’s sake?” he whispered, kissing her shoulder.
Sinead
swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. “…yes,” she whispered.
Patrick looked up at her, surprised.
Sinead sat up. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have—we shouldn’t have done this.” Guilt settled in. Clearly Patrick wanted more from her but she wasn’t sure how to, or if she should, or…
“Hey.” Patrick grabbed her hands. “It’s okay if you want to go slow.” He grimaced, looking down at the two of them and, well, their lack of clothing. “I mean, at least on the emotional front.”
She started grabbing her clothes. “No. No, I didn’t come here to start this dance all over again.” No matter how much she wanted to, especially when that devastated look was in Patrick’s soft blue eyes. “I came here to hear about how you were doing and to have you apologize and to relive our youth and that’s it. This was nostalgia, this was remembering and catching up, this wasn’t starting over again.”
It was rather undignified, saying all of this as she shoved her clothes back on as fast as she could, but she’d be the first to admit that dignified and Patrick didn’t really go together.
Patrick stood up as well, grabbing his jeans and slipping them back on. “Look, I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you—”
“I don’t want you to prove anything to me, all right? I want you to just let me go, okay?” She tried not to keep her voice low so that no employees would come looking for them but it was hard not to yell.
“Answer me this.” Patrick stood firm, just his jeans on, towering over her still. “Do you not love me?”
“I—”
“If you don’t then I’ll walk away but if you still do, then I’m going to fight for you.”
Did she still love him?
She wanted—she was so tempted—he was looking at her like she was everything, like she’d hung the moon, and who wasn’t tempted by that? He’d been her everything and she wanted that from him again, and he still gave her butterflies, and he still made her heart race, but it wasn’t about that, was it? Loving him didn’t matter if he wasn’t going to respect her, and how could she trust him to do that?
