Bree

Dublin.

I love the city, but being back here only reminds me that I only have a few days left before I have to go home.

The drive back was ominously silent, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I like that Owen lets me stay in my head at times. That he doesn’t force conversation. But I could tell that when he woke up this morning, something was bothering him.

I just don’t know what.

After he carried my bags up to his suite at the hotel, he’d left almost immediately, saying he’d see me at the church.

I pace the large living room, an unsettled feeling vibrating through my limbs and twisting my stomach.

My cell buzzes with a message from Emer, wondering where I am. She’s expecting me in her room to help her get ready. Not that she needs my help; she has Agnus and Delaney. But from her earlier texts, I’m pretty sure Agnus is driving her crazy, and she’s hoping I’ll take some of her mother’s attention off her.

I’ll be right there, I tap out, then press send.

The black satin dress I brought for a just-in-case moment is the only thing I have that’s somewhat appropriate for a wedding. Matched with the silver heels Delaney lent me, it’ll have to do. I add a touch of make-up, then twist my hair up and pin it.

Delaney opens the door when I go to Emer’s room, a smile spreading across her face when she sees me. “You’re back. Did you have a good time?”

“I did.” I force a smile and hug her back when she wraps her arms around me.

“Good.” She takes my arm and leads me into the room where Agnus is fussing over Emer’s hair.

“It’s fine, Mom,” Emer grumbles. “Ye’ve stuck me with enough pins, I’d set off a metal detector.” Her eyes brighten when she sees me. “Bree.” She wobbles slightly when she stands. “Thank God ye’re here.”

“You look beautiful,” I say honestly, letting her hug me.

I don’t think I’ve been hugged as much in my whole life as I have since being here. It’s a bit disconcerting.

“I look like a beached whale.” Emer runs her palms over the pink satin and lace gown, cupping her extended belly, and narrows her eyes at Agnus. “I can’t believe I let ye talk me into this.”

“Ye’ll thank me one day.”

Emer gives an exasperated sigh and looks back at me. “Tell me all about yer trip.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “It was fine.”

“Just fine?”

Along with Emer, both Agnus and Delaney wait expectantly for my answer as well.

I shrug, not giving anything away. “It was nice to go home.”

“Does that mean ye’re staying?” Emer presses.

“I…”

“Stop hounding the girl,” Agnus says. “She’s got time to decide.” She cups my cheeks. “And ye know ye always have a place to stay with me.”

“Thank you.” I swallow the lump that forms in my throat.

I belong here.

I just don’t think I can stay.

Despite my attempt to just sit back and watch the women interact and fuss over Emer, they pull me into their chatter, not giving me a chance to retreat into myself like I usually do around people.

There’s a strength here. One that wraps around me, blanketing me in hope. And I know this is what Owen meant when he talked about the Dara knot.

These people, even though I hadn’t see them in years; they’re my family. Nothing, not even time or distance, will ever change that.

“Ye all right?” Emer asks as we get ready to leave the hotel.

“Thank you for letting me be a part of today.”

She squeezes my hand. “I’m grateful that ye’re here.”

I ride in the limo with Emer, Delaney, and Agnus to the church. Once we get there, they’re ushered away by the event planner into a small room to wait for the guests to arrive, allowing me time to find Owen.

The pews are already filling up, and I’m shocked and a little overwhelmed by the security and media that is lined up around the church. I know that the band’s manager had done everything in his power not to have the wedding publicized, but with how big Wild Irish is, it’s not all that surprising that it was leaked.

“Bride or groom?” a deep American voice says behind me.

Friendly green eyes greet me when I turn. “Excuse me?”

“Are you here for the bride or the groom?”

“Oh.” I blush under his appraising eye. “Both, I guess.”

“You’re American.” He gives me a crooked grin, exposing a dimple in his cheek, and holds out a hand.

“From Michigan,” I say, answering his question before he asks.

“What a coincidence. So am I.”

He’s cute. Where Owen is dark, brooding, and tatted, this guy reminds me of a varsity football player with his thick shoulders and sandy blond hair that falls over light brown eyes.

“I’m Chris.” He extends a hand.

I shake it, aware of the lack of spark when we touch. “Bree.”

“I work sound and lighting for Wild Irish,” he says, with a hint of cockiness, like it should impress me. “Thought I’d stick around for the big wedding before I went home.”

“Must be hard now that the tour’s over.”

He shrugs. “Got a new gig starting next month.” He leans closer. “Give me your number and I can get you tickets-”

A large hand wraps around my waist and I’m pulled back against a hard body.

I let out a shocked little yelp, and look up to find Owen glaring daggers at the other man.

“Chris,” Owen says gruffly. “Thought ye would have gone home by now.”

Chris raises an eyebrow, his gaze dropping to where Owen’s palm circles my waist possessively. He sighs, and I see the resignation form in his expression. “Didn’t want to miss the wedding.”

“Then ye better get a seat.” Owen’s voice is clipped.

There’s a brief, tension-filled moment where the two men hold each other’s gaze, unblinking, before Chris lets out a small chuckle and nods.

“It was nice meeting you, Bree.”

“You too.”

Owen continues to glare at the man’s back as he walks away.

“That was rude,” I say, trying to peel his fingers away, which only makes them tighten.

“He was flirting with ye.”

“So?” I push, wanting some acknowledgement of the fact that he’s jealous, and needing to know what it means.

Owen grunts, his posture tense, and his jaw muscles clenching and unclenching as he looks down at me broodily.

“What’s your problem?”

“I don’t want ye talking to him.”

“He seemed nice. And isn’t he one of your employees?”

“He’s a letch.”

“A letch?” I say, both brows rising.

“A player.” There’s clear frustration in his voice now.

“I know what a letch is. So, what? Isn’t that part of being with the band?” I say, only half joking.

He grunts, a mess of emotions storming behind his eyes.

“You said yourself you only promise one night.”

His nostrils flare. “At least the women I’m with know what they’re getting into.”

“Yeah. I guess we do.” I hold his gaze, doing my best not to let the hurt creep into my expression.

Owen mutters a curse under his breath and drags his hand through his hair, wincing.

One of the security guards, or at least that’s what I assume the guy is with his black suit, sunglasses, and earpiece, says something to Owen that I can’t make out.

“All right.” he responds, before turning back to me with a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. We should take our seat.” He places his palm on my lower back and starts to lead me to the front of the church.

If I was worried that he was upset with me earlier, I have no doubt he is now. Tension boils around us, tugging and pulling at my already frazzled emotions.

“I thought you’d be standing up with Aiden.” I sit in the hard pew, sliding over to make room for him, hoping light conversation will pull him out of his mood.

“Shane is,” he grumbles, tugging at his tie. “This whole thing is nonsense.”

“Just because you don’t believe in marriage doesn’t make it-”

“Never said I didn’t believe in it.” He pins me with a hard look.

“You just said-”

“They’re already married, that’s what I meant. Standing in front of a priest isn’t going to make it any more real.”

I chew on the inside of my lip, not understanding his mood. Maybe it’s about Emer, and his feelings for her. That’s the only thing that explains his split personality from last night to today.

“Hey,” Cillian says as Owen and I shift over so he can take a seat beside his brother. “It’s going to be a nightmare to get out of here when this is over. The paparazzi have the damn church surrounded.”

Owen just grunts, causing him to look at me with an arched brow.

I just shrug and glance away, because I have no idea what his problem is.

There’s a murmur from the guests as Aiden and Shane make their way down the aisle.

Aiden gives a small nod to Owen and Cillian as he stands at the front of the church, looking handsome in his tux. Even Shane’s wearing one, which brings a smile to my lips, since he looks so uncomfortable in it.

Owen reaches for my hand when the music starts, glancing at me briefly with stormy eyes and an unreadable expression. “We need to talk after this is over.”

“Are you upset about something?” I whisper, wanting to know now what’s bothering him.

His jaw ticks, and his nostrils flare slightly. “Later.”

Delaney walks down the aisle carrying a small bouquet of white lilies, and Owen’s attention is diverted. We stand as the music changes and Emer appears, walking with her arm linked with Agnus’, whose face is glowing with pride.

“She looks beautiful,” I whisper.

Owen grunts a reply, his eyes distant, only confirming my fears that this really is because of Emer.

He only seems to grow more tense as the vows are exchanged. He doesn’t say a word to me, but he doesn’t release my hand, either. If anything, his grip only tightens.

“What’s wrong with you?” I mumble, when the ceremony is over, and he’s ushering me out of the church, ignoring the paparazzi and reporters as his security team helps us to his car.

“Nothing,” he grumbles, placing a pair of avatar sunglasses over his eyes, making him seem even more impenetrable.

I’m met with more brooding silence as we drive back to the hotel where the reception is being held.

“Are you upset with me?”

“No.”

“Because you’re kind of acting like a jerk.”

His lips thin, but he keeps his gaze focused on the road. “This whole day has me thinking…”

“About what?”

He glances over at me, but I can’t see his eyes behind the dark tinted glasses.

“I don’t think ye should go back to the States.”

Oh.

“Not yet,” he says quickly.

Not yet. Meaning he’s not yet done with me. Which means, at one point, he will be.

“I have to,” I mutter.

“Why?”

I think about telling him about the lawyer Frank hired. But I know he’ll just want to get involved. It’s time I dealt with whatever legal implications or charges Frank has pressed against me. I can’t keep running, even if it means suffering the consequences.

“There are things I need to deal with back home-”

“This is your home.”

“Not according to my driver’s license.”

He grunts.

Maybe after I’ve dealt with everything – if I’m not charged with a criminal record – I can come back.

Owen’s mood only gets darker when we get to the reception hall and find that we’re sitting at separate tables. Him at the table with Aiden, Emer, and the rest of Wild Irish, and me a few tables over with a bunch of people I don’t know.

“I’ll have ye moved,” Owen grumbles.

“No. It’s fine. Agnus has been planning this for a long time. Your table is already full. I’m not asking someone to move for me.”

His jaw twitches and he shifts from one foot to the other, clearly agitated. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.” I frown up at him. “Then talk.”

He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. “This. Us. It’s-”

“You don’t have to worry about my feelings. I knew what I was signing up for.”

“Bree-”

“It’s fine.” I place my hand on his arm. “We have two more nights. Let’s enjoy them.”

His nostrils flare and his lips tighten. “I don’t want two more nights. I think-”

“Ye two okay?” Cillian asks, coming up behind Owen.

My chest is squeezing, my heart shredding inside my chest.

I don’t want two more nights.

He’s breaking things off with me – now.

“Fine,” I mutter, giving Cillian a forced smile before walking past them into the banquet hall.

I’m not sure why I’m surprised. I’ve already had more time with him than he originally promised.

He’d broken his one-night rule for me.

That’s something.

But, it isn’t enough.

I knew it never would be.

“Looks like we’re sitting together,” Chris says, coming up behind me when I’m at my table, and pulling out a chair for me to sit. He gives me a crooked smile. “Lucky me.”

I can feel Owen’s hard gaze on me all through dinner, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking in his direction. Instead, I listen to Chris talk about himself, and answer the few questions he asks about me.

“I keep getting the death stare,” Chris says as the dessert plates are taken away.

I glance over my shoulder and catch the murderous look Owen gives us.

“Don’t take it personally. He always looks like that.”

Chris chuckles. “You two a thing?”

I hesitate, glancing back at Owen again, who’s turned his attention to Emer. And even though I know she’s married, and that her heart belongs to Aiden, I can’t help the small twist of jealousy that turns inside my chest. Because I know that in Owen’s eyes, all women, including myself, will always be measured by her.

“No,” I say finally.

It’s the truth.

I’ll leave in a couple days. And he’ll stay here, open his recording studio, and move on to one of the many women waiting in the wings.

“Good,” Chris says, giving me another one of his dimpled smiles.

There aren’t any speeches, just a quick thank you from Agnus for coming, before the DJ announces that the dance floor is open.

The first song is a face-paced Irish gig that has half the room up dancing and singing along. I have no idea where Owen went, but he’s no longer at his table.

“The Irish know how to have fun,” Chris says, leaning towards me, one hand resting on the back of my chair, giving me a look that leaves nothing to interpretation. “How about having some fun with me.”

I’m about to tell him that he’d be better off spending his energy on someone else when Emer comes off the dance floor, a light bead of sweat on her brow, her eyes brimming with happiness.

“Come on,” she says breathlessly, pulling me up. “Dance with me.”

I wince, knowing I’ll make a fool of myself if I join her, but also grateful for the interruption.

Hesitantly, I follow her to the dance floor, and am immediately swept up in the chaotic movement that involves more clapping and jumping than actual dance moves.

Aiden wraps an arm around Emer, kissing her hard when the song ends.

They make me smile. And hope. Because there’s no doubting how much they love each other. How perfect they are together.

The next song is slower. I’m about to walk back to the table when a hand clasps mine.

I know from the lack of heat in the touch that it’s not Owen.

“How about a dance?” Chris says with one of his lopsided grins. He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. His arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me a little too close against his chest. “Are you staying at the hotel?”

I place my palms on his chest and try to push him away, but one arm remains locked around me. “You seem like a great guy, but I’m not really looking for anything right now.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with that brooding Irishman that hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night?”

I sigh. “Maybe a little.”

Or maybe a lot.

“Lucky guy.”

“I’m not sure he feels the same.”

“Trust me. He does.” Chris winces when his gaze focuses on something behind me. “And I have a feeling that if I don’t walk away from you right now, I won’t be leaving here in one piece.”

I glance over my shoulder and see Owen stalking towards us.

Chris hurries away just as he reaches me, a storm raging behind his eyes as he grasps my arm. Without a word, he leads me out of the room.

I have no idea where he’s taking me, and from the way his gaze darts around the lobby, I don’t think he does, either.

“Owen-”

“Not here,” he growls out before pulling me into a dimly lit room filled with cleaning supplies and boxes.

“What’s wrong with you?” I pull my arm from his grip when he shuts the door behind us.

“Are ye trying to drive me insane?” He demands, taking a menacing step towards me. I back away.

“Are you trying to prove that you are insane?” I spit back.

His palms go to the wall behind me, his large body blocking any hope for escape.

“If this is about me dancing with-”

His lips crash down on mine as one of his hands twist in the mass of my hair.

“Owen,” I breathe out breathlessly, barely able to catch my breath.

“I told ye not to talk to him.” His hands and mouth are on me, desperate, frenzied.

“You don’t get to say who I talk to.” I tug at his shirt, then snake my hands under it, my touch fevered as I run my fingers across his stomach, up his chest.

“As long as ye’re with me, I do.”

“I’m not with you. We’re just…”

“Just what?” he says roughly.

“Sleeping together.”

A growl vibrates from his throat, and his mouth is back on mine, his hands pulling at the fabric of my dress, until it’s pulled high on my thighs.

“Is that all ye think this is?”

“Yes.” Because if I acknowledge that it’s anything else, I know I won’t survive it. Not when I have to leave in two days. And I do have to leave. I know that now. If I’m ever going to move forward, I need to first deal with my past.

“That’s all ye want?”

“Yes,” I lie.

I want him. Need him. His smile. His body.

But it’s too damn scary to say the words, knowing he can reject them. Reject me.

He pulls back a fraction, his palm cupping my jaw, eyes studying me like he sees right through my lies.

Desire quivers between my thighs.

“You’re going to destroy me.” The words are out before I can stop them. They tumble from the deepest part of my soul.

He freezes, his eyes stormier than I’ve ever seen them. An impenetrable blizzard of emotions that I can’t comprehend.

His nostrils flare. “Bree…”

I shouldn’t have said it. Because it exposes just how vulnerable I am to him. Not that I think he’d ever hurt me on purpose. I’m the one that pushed this. That accepted his terms. I have no right to blame him for who he is.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whisper, feeling every fundamental part of myself detaching from him, setting up walls to protect my heart from the rejection I know will eventually come.

“We need to talk about it.” His thumb traces my jaw, his other hand still on my bare hip, his erection straining against my belly. “I don’t want to hurt ye-”

The door springs open. Saving him. Saving me from the humiliation I know was coming.

“Jeezus, Cillian. Get the hell out of here.” Owen shields my body with his as I straighten my dress.

Cillian looks away, but he doesn’t leave. “Ye need to come. Now.”

I hear the panic in his voice.

“What’s wrong?” Owen tucks his shirt into his pants, his brows drawing down as he glances over at his brother.

“Emer. Something’s wrong. Aiden’s taking her to the hospital.”

Pure panic washes over Owen’s features. “Fuck.”

Owen glances at me, and I can tell he’s not sure what to do.

“Go. You should be with them.”

I hope that he’ll ask me to come, but he just kisses my cheek, then says, “I’ll call ye when I know more.”