Delaney

The concert hall is full, jam-packed with screaming women. And the second Wild Irish takes the stage, the louder they get.

I can’t process the emotions I feel when I see Cillian.

We’re far enough away that he’ll never see me in the masses, but close enough that I can see him clearly. My breath gets stuck in my throat when I take in his appearance.

The t-shirt he’s wearing is snug enough to curve over his chest and shoulders. I can recall what’s under it far too easily, all the glorious ink and chiseled muscles. His beard is cut short, but his hair is long, shading one side of his face.

Even from a distance, I catch the blue of his eyes.

He’s gorgeous.

More beautiful than I remember.

I know right away that I made the wrong choice coming here.

It’s too hard.

The small spark of hope that started in my chest when the backstage passes arrived in my mailbox yesterday is back. Kiersten freaked out when she saw them.

The result was a thirty-minute interrogation as to how I got them, and who sent them. I didn’t give her all the details, but I did tell her about meeting the band when I’d been in Ireland. She was angry at me for about five minutes for not telling her sooner. But when I said we could use the passes, she forgave me quickly.

Now we’re here and I have about two hours to decide whether I’m actually going to use the pass and see him.

My palms are sweating, and my heart is racing a million miles per minute. He wouldn’t have sent me the passes if he hadn’t wanted to see me. But there was no note. No explanation. No hint of whether he’s still angry at me, if Aiden ever told him the truth about Matt, or if he still believes I betrayed him.

I shouldn’t have come.

Kiersten is screaming along with the rest of the crowd. She doesn’t seem to notice my unease. I’m not sure I can do this – any of it.

When the band begins to play, and Cillian’s voice echoes through the building, my entire body begins to tremble.

“I see her face. Blurred by time. Arms outstretched, but never mine. Let the Irish rains wash away yer tears. Let me kiss away yer pain…”

A shiver races down my spine as memories flood through me. Cillian’s kisses. His lips on mine. His touch. His body. Him singing just to me as we sat on the beach and watched the sun set over the ocean.

“Come to me, my love. I’m waiting on the shore. It’s safe in yer harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.”

I did come to you, I want to scream. But you threw it away. Threw me away. Why?

And what do you want from me now?

I don’t know how I do it, but I manage to get through the whole concert without breaking down or running out of the building. If anything, my initial nerves have turned into something harder, almost bitter, as I watch the ease in which he takes each breath, as he sings each word.

It was so easy for him to let me go.

So easy for him to believe the worst in me.

Part of me wonders if he didn’t just use Matt as an excuse to end what we had. To make me look like the bad guy, so he wouldn’t have to feel guilty for breaking my heart.

I’m so caught up in my thoughts and memories that I barely register when the concert ends.

My thumb strokes the word written across my wrist – happiness – and I wonder if Cillian found his. He seems like he has.

Fame.

Money.

Women.

They’re all his.

It’s a world that’s far different from mine, or the one I spent a month with him in. I don’t belong here. I can’t just be another screaming fan to him. And that’s all I am. I’d be a fool to believe otherwise.

“Come on,” Kiersten takes my hand and starts to drag me through the crowd towards the front of the stage.

“Kiersten,” I yell over the noise, but she either doesn’t hear me, or chooses to ignore me. I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.

When she flashes her pass at the security guard, and he nods her through, I stop.

I can’t do this.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and I see the hint of annoyance in her eyes.

“Why don’t you go–” The air in my chest leaves me in a solid whoosh, like someone hit me in the stomach with a baseball bat – because I see him.

Cillian.

A door opens about ten feet from us. It’s only open for a split second before it shuts again, but I see enough to know that I never should have come, because there’s no mistaking it was him with the blonde attached to him like a second skin.

My stomach rolls.

“Delaney,” Kiersten crosses her arms and glares at me. “Come on.”

I can’t stop staring at the door, but it doesn’t open again. And I’m not sure I want it to. “I…I’m not feeling well.”

She frowns. “You’re not going to leave me here alone, are you?”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, trying to hold back the tears that sting my eyes. I turn and hurry towards the nearest doors, gasping in a breath when I’m finally alone.

Stupid tears. I swipe them away with the back of my hand before letting out a frustrated scream.

“Ye all right?”

I startle at the sound of the man’s voice.

Glancing up at the familiar blue eyes, I laugh at how cruel fate can be. If my humiliation wasn’t complete, I had to be caught crying in front of Cillian’s brother.

“It’s you.” Tossing his cigarette on the ground, he moves towards me. “Cillian’s girl.”

Cillian’s girl? Is he serious?

I snort back a laugh and shake my head.

“Does my brother know ye’re here?” He moves out of the shadows towards me.

“No. But, I don’t think he’d care. He seemed a little preoccupied when I saw him.”

Owen frowns. “I don’t know what ye saw, but he’ll be wanting to see ye.”

“I doubt that.” Had I really expected him to not be with anyone? To be pining away for me, like I’d been doing for him?

I realize now that a part of me hoped for it.

“I’m not even sure why he sent me the passes,” I mutter, more to myself.

Owen coughs, and when I glance over at him, he winces. “Actually, that was me.”

“You?”

“I know the two of ye didn’t leave things on good terms. And I know my brother’s too damn stubborn to make a move himself. So…”

That small spark of hope is completely extinguished now.

“He didn’t send the passes?” Which means he didn’t want to see me.

My chest squeezes painfully.

God, I’m so stupid.

“No. But I’ve never seen him like this. My brother’s a stubborn bastard, but he has a good heart.”

I’ve never doubted that. Until maybe now. Now, I wonder if anything between us had been real. Or if it had all been a game to him.

“Did he ever tell ye about our mom?” Owen asks, leaning against the wall, and shoving his hands in his pockets.

He looks so much like Cillian, and it hurts to look at him.

“Not much. I know she left when you were both young.”

He nods. “Cillian was twelve when she took off. Met some guy down at the pub. An Englishman.” His lip rolls up in a sneer at the word. “Our dad knew about it, but he was too much of a coward to fight for her. So, he let her go off and do what she wanted.” He rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “One day, she didn’t come home. It wasn’t until a couple of years ago that we found out she’d moved to England. Started a new family there.”

“I’m sorry.” I am. But I also don’t know why he’s telling me all this.

“Cillian took it the hardest. I wonder sometimes if he doesn’t blame himself for her leaving.”

“He was just a kid.”

“A bad one.” Owen’s lips twitch, and a small hint of humor reaches his eyes. “We both were. We were always getting into trouble.”

“It doesn’t matter how bad you were. It’s no reason for a mom to abandon her children.”

“Maybe not. But ye don’t know the trouble we got into.” He chuckles. “The week before she left, we got caught gluing the pages of the church’s hymn books together. Cillian took the blame for it. Said it’d been his idea and I was only there to stop him. Our mom gave him a good beating for that one. But it was nothing compared to the time he filled Mrs. O’Brien’s gas tank with mud. Or when he dumped a box of instant rice and boiling water down Mr. Murphy’s sink. Busted the pipes and flooded his whole kitchen.”

“Oh my God.”

“Like I said, we weren’t saints.”

We stand in silence for a few moments, and I can feel Owen studying me.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want ye to understand. After our mom left, Cillian pulled into himself. Pushed people away. He still does. Even with me. Trust me when I tell ye that my brother cares a great deal about ye.”

God, I want to believe him.

“Even if you’re right, and he does…care about me, I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me.” Fresh tears sting my eyes, and I blink them away. “I deserve better than that. No matter how much I want to be with him.”

With a heavy sigh, Owen removes the distance between us and wraps his large arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. “Cillian’s going to wake up one day and realize what an idiot he’s been. I just hope it’s not too late when he does.”