37. Declan
37
DECLAN
I sat on the back patio and watched Catie off in the distance, studiously digging for bugs. It had been three days since Olivia had left. Catie and I were doing our best to build a routine around the Olivia-shaped hole in our lives.
I was back to being the responsible adult, which meant keeping cookie consumption to a healthy level and encouraging outdoor play over screen time. Olivia had been right about that. I didn’t want Catie to suffer just because I’d fucked everything up.
And by everything, I mean everything .
Thomas had been furious when he found out what I intended to do with the O’Rourke mansion. He’d accused me of sabotaging the town’s economy and community for my own private crusade. Worse, he didn’t believe me when I said that I’d kept him out of the loop for his own benefit. He felt used.
The last time I’d driven through the village, there had been a tiny girl and her grandma standing in front of the O’Rourke mansion with signs that said Save Our Festival.
Everyone thought I was the villain in this saga.
I might have cared more if I didn’t miss Olivia so damn bad. Anil innocently teased me about her in our video call the day after we broke up. Apparently, my face had been so distraught, he thought she’d died or something.
The previous night I’d found myself watching The Deer and the Warrior late at night after Catie went to bed. Maybe it was the whiskey or the truly terrible dialogue, but when Fionn came back from battle and found his bride gone, I’d cried like a baby.
Not that I’d ever, ever let anyone know that.
My phone buzzed with an incoming call. I recognized the number as Sinead’s rehab facility. For a second I just stared at it. I’d been avoiding having a real conversation since I found out who Catie’s biological dad was. It had been easy, since mostly she wanted to talk to Catie. But this wasn’t Catie’s bedtime.
“Hello?” I said, trying to keep my voice light. I’d decided I didn’t want to make her talk about Seamus if she didn’t want to. I didn’t want to bring up anything that would make her recovery harder.
“Mum’s worried about you,” Sinead said. “She said the whole town hates you because you’re going to destroy the old O’Rourke place. I can’t believe Olivia dumped you at an airport. It’s like Love Actually , but depressing.”
I groaned. “How did Mum know about the airport?”
“She didn’t. Catie told me that part. She’s very proud she used the f-word correctly.”
“Sorry about that,” I said.
Sinead shrugged it off. “She’s a Byrne. She was going to start swearing eventually. But seriously. How are you?”
My instinct was to assure her I was fine. I didn’t want anyone worrying about me, especially Sinead. I was used to being the tough, capable older brother she could lean on in a crisis, not the other way around.
But I needed advice. And Sinead was the only person I trusted to give it.
So I told her the whole unflattering story. I told her about all the fights Olivia and I had been having, including the one about Seamus, and how they all centered around the same big thing—she thought I was living in the past, and I thought she was scared to face her past so she could actually build a future.
“You get why I have to raze the mansion, right?” I said. “After what he did to Da?”
“I get why you want to,” Sinead said carefully. “Believe me, I want him hurt too. He smirked at me a few days after Da’s funeral, and I almost stabbed him with a pocketknife.”
I smiled at the image. That was Sinead. Tough as nails.
“I don’t know if Olivia’s right, about you living in the past,” Sinead said. “But you shouldn’t destroy that old house, Declan. If you hurt a bunch of innocent people just because you’re putting your family above everyone else…that’s a slippery slope. And at the end of that slope are people like Mark O’Rourke.”
I opened my mouth to argue. Then I shut it.
I’d asked Sinead for her advice. And she’d served me an uncomfortable truth that was going to keep me up all night.
“How are you handling the break-up?” she said, her voice softer now.
I opened my mouth to make a joke, but what came out was, “I thought loving her would be enough.” I hunched over, staring blindly at the ground. “I’ve never fallen in love before. Maybe I did it wrong.”
Silence fell on the other end of the line, like she was searching for something helpful to say.
“Sometimes it’s not just about loving someone. You need them to love you and make the healthy changes you’re asking for in order for a future together to seem possible,” Sinead said at last. She took a deep breath, then continued. “I loved Seamus when we were young. He was fun and nice to everyone and always made me feel taken care of when we were hanging out. But he also turned into a wimp around his dad. The worst side of him always came out when he was trying to live up to Mark’s expectations.”
I wasn’t sure what any of that had to do with my situation. But she was finally opening up about Seamus, so I held my tongue.
“I was okay with those issues when we were just hooking up. But they weren’t okay with me anymore once I realized I was pregnant with Catie. So, I never told him she was his,” she said.
I blinked. I’d assumed Seamus had known about Catie for years. If he’d only recently realized…
I still hated him. But I could also sympathize with wanting to meet his kid.
“My point is,” Sinead said, “you’re not asking Olivia to go on casual dates. You’re asking her to give up her career and move to a foreign country for you. So, she needs more than love. She needs to know you’re as invested in building a future together as you’re asking her to be.”
I stayed silent, processing her advice.
If Sinead was right, and I’d been in the wrong with Olivia…then I’d given up my own shot with her for no reason.
Across the yard, Catie held up a worm in triumph.
“Want to talk to your daughter?” I asked. “She’s investigating the local worm population.”
“That’s my girl,” Sinead said warmly.
M y mum was babysitting Catie that afternoon so I could do some work. But instead of working, I found myself in the hotel pub in Galway, staring morosely at a pint of Guinness.
Was there a way to get revenge on Mark O’Rourke without hurting anyone else?
On the other hand, what if I was so desperate to find a way back to Olivia, I was fooling myself into thinking I could find a way around destroying the mansion?
“You going to drink that or just stare at it?” the bartender asked.
I grunted.
My phone buzzed. I glanced at it absently, my heart freezing when I saw the name.
@1000words . Olivia had messaged me.
I tapped the phone, hungry for her words.
I don’t know if it’s ok to message you like this. But we were friends on here first. So, here goes—I made a change to my picture book I’m proud of. I think you’ll like it. Want to see it?
I could hear her voice in my head as I read, and it felt like warm sun on a winter day. It wasn’t enough, but it was her . I almost told her to show me her book. A part of me was willing to take a tepid online friendship, if that was the only part of Olivia I could have.
I started to type out that response, but then I stopped. I was fooling myself. For a brief, glorious summer, Olivia had let me fall in love her. Having tasted that, I could never go back to less.
I deleted my initial message and started again. I can’t go back to being just your online friend, Olivia. I respect that you don’t return my feelings. But I’m not ready to be friends just yet.
I sent the message before I could overthink it. Then I turned off my phone and downed half my beer in one gulp.
“You all right, a chara? ” a man said from down the bar.
I looked up, surprised to hear someone speaking Irish in a pub that catered to tourists, and came face to face with Seamus O’Rourke.
“Shit. I didn’t realize it was you,” Seamus fumbled. “Your clothes are all wrinkled, and you haven’t shaved, and your hair is…” He swallowed. “It’s your shoulders, too. They’re sort of, um, hunched? And defeated? I…didn’t know your shoulders could do that.”
I glared at him.
“Right. I’ll just go sit over there,” Seamus said, sliding off his barstool and gesturing vaguely to the tables behind him. He walked away.
I went back to my beer.
Until the steps did a U-turn and approached my end of the bar.
Seamus stopped just out of punching range and took a breath, clearly nervous.
Jesus Christ , I thought. If the wimp gave me crap about buying his fucking house…
“I wanted to thank you for taking care of Catie,” Seamus said. “Both this summer and before. Everyone I’ve talked to says she’s a great kid, and I know that’s partly because you were there for her when I…wasn’t.”
I looked at him squarely. I waited for him to start making excuses about how he would have been there if only Sinead had told him.
But he didn’t. Instead, he said, “I wanted to ask what I can do to prove to you and Sinead that I’m ready to be part of Catie’s life.”
He waited, determined. For the first time, I could imagine some of what Sinead might have seen in him.
“That’s a question for Sinead,” I said slowly. Then, because I didn’t like owing him anything, I admitted, “I may have overreacted the last time we talked. I didn’t realize you’d just found out yourself.”
Seamus nodded, eager to find common ground. “At first, I was mad Sinead hadn’t told me. But my sister reminded me what an immature prick I was back then. Totally under my dad’s thumb. Plus, there’s the bad blood between our families.”
I arched a brow. “Is that what we’re calling your dad killing mine?”
He winced and flushed. I expected him to leave or start making excuses for his parents. Instead he nodded and said, “You’re right. Euphemisms only protect the wrong-doers, eh?”
I blinked. Was he truly that easy-going? Or had he actually grown up?
Seamus set his drink down on the bar and looked me straight in the eye. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop my dad that night. I knew he was drinking too much. I never stood up to him when he was like that because he got so nasty. But I should have. James was such a good man. I threw up when I found out it was him my dad killed.”
It was strange. The angry teenager in me was hearing the thing I’d wanted since that horrible night—for someone to take responsibility for it, and then to look me in the eye and apologize.
But the other part of me was a thirty-year-old man who knew it shouldn’t have been a teen’s responsibility to stop his dad from driving drunk.
“You were a kid yourself,” I said gruffly.
“You would have stood up to him,” Seamus said. “Sinead too. Sometimes I think that’s why I first loved her. She’s fearless.”
He wasn’t wrong. But I could finally admit it wasn’t the whole story either. Seamus might have some advantages that we didn’t, but he’d also grown up with a bastard of a father.
“We had someone to teach us how to be fearless,” I said.
We drank in silence for a bit.
“You probably don’t remember this, but there was this football game at a park in Galway when I was, I don’t know, ten? Anyway, I’m rotten at football, and my dad yelled at me a bit before going back to his office to do some work. I was just relieved to see him go.” Seamus laughed, like what he was describing was some funny, quirky anecdote, instead of another reason Mark O’Rourke deserved a fist to the face. “Anyway. You and your family were in the park that day, having a picnic or something. James came over to me and made a point of telling me what a great job I’d done cheering everyone on my team and making them feel better, even though we were losing. He said there were more important things to be good at than winning.” Seamus looked down at his drink. “I didn’t really get it at that time. But those words stayed with me. Came back to me on days when I needed them. I think he was one of the first people to show me there were other ways to be a man than the shit my dad did. Anyway.” He raised his pint. “I’ll leave you be. Cheers.”
He turned to go.
Reluctantly, I realized that Olivia was right. Mark was awful, but the rest of the O’Rourkes weren’t the monsters I’d made them out to be. Seamus was trying his best. His sister was empathetic enough to understand why Sinead hadn’t told Seamus about Catie—and to defend her for it.
Slowly, a plan began to fall into place. A way to punish Mark and protect Ballybeith from him, without hurting anyone else.
Unfortunately, I’d need Seamus’s help to pull it off. But that didn’t seem like nearly as awful a prospect as it would have earlier. Still not something I was looking forward to by any means—but maybe something I could live with.
“Seamus,” I said.
He turned around, eager as a puppy dog.
Christ, this was going to be painful.
I indicated the barstool next to me. “Sit down. We have things to discuss.”