Chapter Nineteen

Agitation churned inside Shea when he arrived at the pub Tuesday afternoon. First thing, he sent Finn a text and asked him to stop by after school, then he sought refuge in his work. Old habits and all that.

While he filled drinks behind the bar, his mind kept coming back to the problem of his wife, much the way his tongue might worry a spot on the roof of his mouth. In a few hours, they’d sit down for an interview with the bridal magazine and pretend to be a happily married couple, and it suddenly bothered the piss out him that they’d have to fake it.

Or at least, she would. What he felt was real.

Aiden clocked in for his shift and Shea reminded him to turn in his paperwork so they could get him paid.

Aiden gave Shea his back and went to work wiping down the counter. “Will do, Boss.”

Shea left his bartender to tend bar and turned to his other tasks. In his office, he attacked the stack of paperwork waiting for his attention. Shortly after the time when Finn’s school day ended, he returned to the pub room and, clipboard in hand, went behind the bar to finish the liquor inventory.

But more than an hour after school had let out, there was still no sign of Finn. Shea waited as long as he dared, and just when he’d made the decision to leave to meet Isobel at the house, the door opened and a beam of late-afternoon sunlight spilled across the pub room.

At the sight of Finn strolling toward him, a grimace pulled at Shea’s mouth.

Catching the look, and misreading it, Finn slowed. “Look, whatever you have to say, just save it. You’ve made your point loud and clear.”

Behind the bar, Shea folded his arms over his chest. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you don’t like me.” Finn’s eyes brimmed with vulnerability. “Just know I’m trying, all right?”

The sting of shock was drowned out by the flood of agony that crashed into him. with an agonizing shock. He peered into his son’s face, searching for signs of spite or misguided humor. Anything that might explain such a wildly inaccurate statement.

He found none.

Finn meant every word. He truly believed his own father didn’t like him.

Pain ripped through Shea with the chaotic destruction of a tornado, tearing him apart.

At one time, he’d considered himself an honorable person, but the facts were stacking up against him. He could no longer deny the truth.

He was a failure. As a brother, a father, a husband. In one way or another, he’d failed every person he’d ever sought to protect.

When his mom died and his dad spiraled out of control, he’d had no skills to hold his family together. Not one. With only ignorance and desperation, he’d tried to do it in a lot of boneheaded ways. He’d been cold, controlling, and too hard on his brothers. He was older, bigger, stronger, and he’d used every advantage he had to keep things under control. Grudgingly, they’d respected him, maybe not for his tactics but because he was a better alternative than their dad. Until eventually they came to resent him.

But rather than learn from his failures, he turned around and repeated the same mistakes with his son.

Shame and regret tunneled through him, grotesque and sickening.

All he’d ever wanted to do was take away their pain—which was also his pain. Instead, he’d driven them away. Worse, he’d made them doubt his love, and themselves.

“I like you.” His voice shaking, Shea held his son’s gaze with his own. “A lot.”

Finn appeared unconvinced.

With a steadying breath, Shea plucked a pint glass from the dry rack and filled it with Coke. “Have a seat.”

Finn jerked his head over one shoulder. “I’ve got a thing I gotta get to…”

“Please.” Shea gestured to a barstool. “There’s a reason I asked you to come by today.”

“What reason?”

“Sidney Shaw.”

Unease visibly settled on Finn’s shoulders. “What about her?”

Shea opened his mouth, but the words to explain suddenly wouldn’t come and he snapped it shut. He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Don’t,” Finn snapped. “I know what people say about her.”

He peered at Finn through the cracks of his fingers. “Huh?”

The color heightened on Finn’s cheeks. “They think she’s… too friendly or whatever.”

The nasty curse shot from Shea before he could stop it. “People talk too much,” he growled.

One corner of Finn’s mouth twitched. “Yes, they do.”

“But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” Shea slanted forward, leaning with his elbows on the bar. “It’s about Sidney’s dad and that fat lip she had the other night.”

A storm cloud rolled across Finn’s features. He dropped his backpack to the ground with a thud and slid onto the barstool. “You think her dad did it to her?”

“I don’t have proof he hurt her or anything like that,” Shea was quick to say. “But he’s been causing some trouble around here lately. He’s a hothead with a mean streak, and I believe he’s capable of something so disgusting. I wanted you to know I think so, in case.”

“In case what?”

He lifted his shoulders. “That’s the thing with a man like Ray Shaw. You never know what they’re going to do or when, only that they will lash out again. Guaranteed. Just be careful around him.”

“Okay.” Gray eyes, Isobel’s eyes, latched onto Shea’s face. “Thanks.”

An awkward silence fell between them while behind Shea, Aiden worked at restocking the pint glasses.

Words knocked around inside Shea’s head a moment before he arranged them into a sensible order. “I can’t believe I never told you this, but I grew up in a home a lot like the one Sidney’s living in now.”

Finn drew a low, nearly imperceptible hiss of air between his teeth. “That’s why you never wanted me around him, isn’t it?”

“He drank a lot, all the time, and it changed him. He was short-tempered. Violent. I didn’t want you anywhere near that.” A weary breath escaped him. “I know I haven’t been a great dad to you, and I won’t insult you with some bullshit excuses, but growing up like that, it has a way of messing with you, you know?”

Finn sat still as a statue on the barstool. “Actually, I have no idea what it’s like.”

That pulled a reluctant smile from Shea, which quickly dropped away. “One minute everything is calm, sane. The next, the whole world is turned upside down and you have no idea how it happened. You start to feel like you’re losing your mind.” With the tip of one finger, he traced the line of a scar that nicked the bar’s hard wood surface. “If you live with it long enough, you forget which way is up and which is down, and once you’ve lost your bearings, it’s hard to know what to believe or who to trust.”

A wrinkle disturbed Finn’s smooth brow as he slurped a swig of Coke through his straw.

“I should’ve trusted you,” Shea said. “But I was so afraid of letting you down the way my dad let me down that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. You’re a good kid, Finn, and a great person. I’m proud of you.”

Twin spots of pink touched Finn’s cheeks and a faint smile teased his lips before he ducked his chin. He appeared young and self-conscious, and Shea’s heart pinched.

“I’m sorry I mucked this fatherhood thing up so badly. In my defense, my example sucked.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Geez, Dad, you weren’t that bad.”

“Well that’s a relief.” Shea straightened away from the bar. “If it’s not too late, maybe I can still figure it out. Though I might need your help.”

The thoughtful frown played across Finn’s features while he sucked on his soda. Then his expression cleared. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Finn slipped easily off the barstool. “I’ll help you, and in return, you can help me.”

“Oh? How so?”

A mischievous light winked in Finn’s eyes when he slung the strap of his backpack over his shoulder and backed toward the exit. “Tell me everything you know about women.”

The bark of laughter erupted from deep inside Shea’s chest.

“I mean, they’re kind of confusing.”

“Tell me about it,” Shea muttered.

The humor on Finn’s face faded and his steps slowed. “I didn’t think I wanted to hear your excuses either, but I’m glad I did. Thanks.”

Finn ducked through the pub door and a wide smile split Shea’s face. Feeling lighter than he had in years, he turned and nearly collided with Aiden.

“Sorry, man,” Shea said. Then, he drew up. “Everything all right?”

His feet planted shoulder-width apart, Aiden stood blocking Shea’s path, his golden-brown eyes blazed in his stony expression. “You got a minute?”

“Not really.” Shea glanced at the wall clock. “I have to—”

“It’ll only take a minute.”

At the cold edge in Aiden’s tone, alarm stole over Shea. “My office?”

With a curt nod, Aiden allowed Shea to pass by him. The two men moved silently down the short hallway to the office door. Shea twisted the knob and motioned for Aiden to enter ahead of him. Then he closed the door quietly behind them.

“What’s going on?” he asked the moment the latch clicked into place.

Aiden’s calm veneer crumbled and he paced the small room like a caged animal. “Your father was Daniel Michael Nolan?”

A breath wheezed from Shea. “You heard all that, did you?”

“Aye, I did.” His odd accent slipped, and for a moment, the inflection of his tone lilted. “He was a drunk, was he?”

Through narrowed eyes, Shea watched Aiden march back and forth. “That he was.”

“He did a number on you and yer brothers.” Aiden drove a hand through his dark hair. “That’s what you said?”

“How do you know my dad’s name?” The words were thick on Shea’s tongue. “And why in the hell are you suddenly speaking with an Irish accent?”

Abruptly, Aiden stumbled to a stop. He faced Shea fully.

A thousand lifetimes might’ve passed in the seconds Shea waited for Aiden’s reply.

The bartender’s throat convulsed with his heavy swallow. “Because Daniel Nolan was my dad, too.”