CHAPTER 25

Renner

I'm lying on my bed... well, on an inflatable mattress that's laying in the middle of Linc's former bedroom. I'm renting his condo from him for the time being and first order of business needs to be to get some furniture. Well, that's the second order of business. First order is to get a job. Luckily, Linc has cut me a hell of a deal on the rent—he's basically charging me peanuts.

I have a good nest egg saved up from when I worked at Delta and I'm thankful I never had to tap into it while I lived in Dublin.

Just thinking of Dublin brings a tiny pang to my chest. Then thinking of Dublin causes me to think of Cillian and the pang morphs into a full-blown stab of agony.

I miss him so much—despite the betrayal I'm feeling. Despite the heartbreak.

A day doesn't go by that I don't think of getting on a plane and flying back to him. Maybe I shouldn't have given him an ultimatum. Maybe I should have told him the truth of what I knew about Maeve. Maybe I should have just given him time to work through the issues with Maeve.

Was I being selfish? Was I being a brat... demanding that he choose me over another woman?

All questions that won't be answered, because no matter how much I miss him, no matter how many times I question the sanity of my actions, I know...deep down... that I won't do anything to change my current situation. I'm too stubborn, or too much of a coward. I'm not sure which but either way, it has me frozen here and unable to do anything to end my torture.

So all I can hope is that time will cause this ache to go away and that I'll be able to move on with my life.

Pulling my iPhone out, I flip through my music and choose one of OTE's songs, Walking on Tree Tops. It's my favorite because it talks about doing impossible things with no risk of failing. I don’t know why I torture myself by listening to Cillian's voice every day through his music, but maybe it speaks to the fact that I’m not ready to let him go.

Slipping my ear buds in, I let my mind drift and I think about one of my favorite moments with Cillian. It seems silly that it would stay at the forefront of my mind, but maybe not. It's the night he first saw me at The Hibernian after I'd moved to Dublin. He had been so cocky and arrogant, throwing his rock star status around like it would mean something to me. I wanted to punch him in the face, and let's face it, I was slightly hurt he didn't recognize me. Then he called me cailín álainn, and I knew—in that split second—that he had never forgotten me. Even after all those years.

I wonder if five years from now he'll remember me? I know I will never forget him.

I set the song on repeat, close my eyes, and listen.

When the lyrics start over for the third time, I for some weird reason get an overwhelming sense of danger and foreboding come over me and the hair stands up on my arms. Slowly, I open my eyes and I'm assaulted by the immediate realization that there is a man standing in my bedroom doorway.

Shrieking like a banshee, my arms and legs briefly flailing around like a muppet, I roll my body off the mattress and away from the intruder, bouncing to my feet.

When I finally focus on the man, it takes a slight moment for my brain to process that I’m staring at my brother, Flynn.

Clasping one hand to my chest in an effort to quell the frantic beating of my heart, I rip the ear buds out with my other hand. "Jesus, Flynn. You gave me a fucking heart attack."

My lungs are heaving with an effort to start the oxygen flowing again as it had been sucked out of me from sheer terror.

He laughs... a deep, rich sound. "Sorry. I was going to touch you on the leg to get your attention but figured that would freak you out more."

It's true... if he had touched me while I was zoned out listening to music, I would have peed my pants just before my heart exploded and sent me into cardiac arrest.

"Well, don't sneak up on me again. If I had a gun I would have blown your brains out," I grumble.

"If you'd answer your door when the doorbell rings, I wouldn't have to resort to sneaking up on you."

I give him an exasperated look and walk by him out the bedroom door. He follows me into the kitchen and I pull a bottle of water out of the fridge, holding it up to see if he wants one. He shakes his head and I close the door, twisting the cap off to take a sip.

"So what's up?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Just checking on you to see how you're doing."

I study Flynn. He's older than me by four years and has always looked out for me the way a big brother would. Actually, I had three of them looking out for me between him, Linc and Nix. I think of the boyfriends I had that they scared the shit out of through vile words and other intimidation tactics. It used to bug the crap out of me, but in hindsight I have to admit it’s endearing.

Flynn’s dark brown hair and hazel eyes are classic Caldwell trademarks. You'd never guess we were related, except we share the same nose. Otherwise, everyone always thought the three Caldwell boys were brothers and I was the visiting cousin when we were together.

"I'm fine," I tell him.

"If that's the case, how come you're holed up here in this empty condo all by yourself? You don't even have any furniture here, Ren."

"I'm going to get some... as soon as I get a job."

"Why don't you just move back in with Mom and Dad until then."

I shake my head. "I'm a little too old to be moving back home."

"Then move in with me. I have an extra bedroom."

Smiling at my brother, I give him an indulgent look. "I love you to pieces, Flynn, but there’s no way in hell I'm moving into that hovel you call a home. Besides... I just want some time alone."

Leaning his hip against the counter, he crosses his arms. "That's what's worrying me, Ren. You want to be alone an awful lot since you returned from Dublin. That's not like you."

I don't respond to him, because I'm afraid I'll break down into a small lake of tears. My family is wonderful... the best ever. But I haven't told any of them what happened in Dublin. Other than what I had briefly told my mom, none of them know about Cillian and I want to keep it that way. I just want to keep pushing and shoving all of the memories, good and bad, into a dark place and hopefully one day move past them.

"Cady's worried about you."

Pangs of anxiety shoot through me. "Why? Did she call or something?"

"She's called, emailed, texted... said you're not responding to her. That's not fair to her."

Guilt overwhelms me. I've been avoiding Cady like the plague, because I'm afraid that the barest contact I have with her will cause my resolve to weaken and I'll ask about Cillian. Which, of course, she'll tell me anything I want to know.

And I'm terrified to even hear the slightest bit of news about him. I'm terrified she'll tell me he's moved on, that he's forgotten all about me, that he and Maeve are a couple, that they're getting married and going to have lots of babies. My mind runs amok at the possibility of all the heinous things she may tell me that I'm just not ready to hear.

"I'll call her... soon." I can’t help the fact that my words sound hollow.

Flynn just looks at me, his face serious and intent. I hold a staring contest with him, to see who will blink and look away first. His eyes are warm and sympathetic, his mouth turned down slightly at the corners. He has a knowing look on his face.

A really, really knowing look.

"Oh, God... she told you about him, didn't she?"

"Yes, but only after I relentlessly hammered her to get the information. She eventually caved when I told her I was worried sick about you and didn't know how to help you. Why didn't you tell me? Or at least Mom?"

My shoulders sag. "I don't know... it's too painful I guess. I want to forget about him."

"Cillian?"

I nod.

"Look... I don't pretend to know everything and I'm sure Cady gave me an abbreviated version, but if you want to talk about it...you know I'll listen. Hell, I'll even lend one of my strong and manly shoulders for you to cry on if you want."

My heart melts over his words. Flynn has always been a tough man, but he has a heart of gold. I've cried on his shoulder more than once.

"Thanks, Flynn," I say, drawing in a shaky breath. "But I really don't know what there is to talk about. I loved him... no, I love him. I think I always will. But things got in the way and he didn't love me back."

That's the first time I've uttered those words, either out loud or even in my head. That Cillian didn't love me, and saying them out loud brings a level of truthfulness to the situation that paints a stark and barren picture for me.

Oh, God. Cillian didn't love me.

He cared for me...of that, I’m sure. But it was never, ever enough for him to choose me. I was never important enough to him.

Despair wells up in me. I look at Flynn and his eyes are swimming in love for me, and I know he can feel the pain pouring off me. He does nothing more than open his arms and I walk in them. I lay my head on his chest while he carefully wraps his arms around me and hugs me tight.

I let the tears fall, barely staining my cheeks before they seep into his shirt. I miss Cillan at this point, like I've never missed him before. But every tear that falls, I remember that he's probably not missing me. For every drop of wetness that Flynn absorbs, I remember that what we had wasn't strong enough. For every wet sorrow that escapes me, my heart starts to accept that it’s truly over.

I realize, with finality, I need to get this out of my system, and move on.

So I go ahead and cry, because Flynn is offering me a safe environment to do it in. He whispers words of comfort as my tears pour, promising me that it will get better with time.

It takes me several minutes for the flow to stop, and when they do, I pull away.

"Feel better?" he asks.

"Not really," I tell him as I grab a paper towel and blow my nose. "But I will be. I know I will be."

"That's my girl. Want to go out and get a beer or something?"

Smiling I say, "Sure. Just let me go throw some makeup on to get rid of my red and blotchy skin."

He smiles back and tweaks me on the chin. "Okay, but shake a leg. And wings... I want to get some wings. I'm starving."