19. Kieran
Chapter 19
Kieran
A oife sprints down the boardwalk, and Finn and I practically have to jog to keep up. The Harbor is insanely busy today. The weather was one reason I wanted to take this weekend off and fulfill my promise to Aoife for a night on the yacht. But it looks like I wasn’t the only one with that idea.
I pivot to Finn, who I picked as a guard this weekend while Cormac oversees the fight. “I’m too old for this shite.”
He laughs, speed walking to catch up to Aoife.
She couldn’t wait to leave this morning. Her bags were packed and sitting by the back door. Even Mr. Cuddles was tucked into her tiny backpack this morning, his head poking out to stare at me while I sipped my tea at the kitchen island.
“Aoife, slow down.” I call to her, and she lightens her pace, throwing a grin over her shoulder.
It’s been over six months since we’ve had a night on the yacht, just the two of us.
“Miss Summer?” Aoife’s curious voice has my head snapping in her direction up ahead as she stands behind none other than Summer Smith.
As we approach, Summer stills from where she’s hunched over the boardwalk bench, rustling through a backpack. She straightens, cinching a portion of the bag before she turns.
I’m struck with how pale she is. Her face is ashen, a single tear streaking down her cheek, and I don’t miss the way she tracks the surrounding movement.
Her shoulders are stiff and the dark circles under her eyes proud, but she grins at Aoife, wiping her hands on the same jumper I saw her wearing yesterday. She flicks her focus toward me, and then past to where Finn is behind me.
“H-Hey, Aoife. How are you, sweet girl?” Her voice is shaky, and the coat she’s wearing has a ball-sized bulge in the front. Did it just move?
Aoife swings her arms back and forth, seemingly unfazed by Summer’s exhausted appearance. “I’m fine. Daddy is taking me on the boat today.”
Summer finally looks at me, really looks at me, and I almost shiver. There’s something wrong. Really wrong.
She swallows, head swiveling to glance over her shoulder once again. I study the people behind her, curious if there’s someone here making her uncomfortable, but no one stands out.
“That sounds like so much fun, Aoife. I’m excited for?—”
“Hey! What’s that?” Aoife points to where Summer has her hands wrapped around the big ball in her coat.
Summer chuckles, unzipping the top part of her coat. “Only my cat.”
A gray cat pokes its head up from underneath her coat and my brows furrow. The backpack on the bench, the same clothes as yesterday, an animal buried in her coat—Summer Smith is running from something. Did she even go home yesterday?
“Oh! She’s so cute!” Aoife squeals, and I lower a hand to her shoulder to temper her shouting.
“He, actually. His name is Deuce.” Summer pulls him out and pets him on the head.
“Can I pet him? Daddy, can I pet him?” Aoife jumps up and down at my side, and I watch Summer’s face light up with Aoife’s enthusiasm. My chest tightens at the way Summer looks at my daughter.
“You can hold him if you’d like.” Summer hands Deuce to Aoife, and Aoife moves to the bench to wiggle herself onto it. She pets at him, and the cat nudges under her arm. She giggles.
Stepping forward, I gently grab Summer by the arm and pull her to the side. She shudders when I release her.
“Is everything okay?”
She blinks several times but avoids looking at me in the eye. “Uh, yeah.” She makes to move back toward Aoife, but I wrap my hand around her wrist. That’s when her gaze locks with mine, her breathing audible. Her pulse thrums against my fingers, and I relish the feel of it.
“Summer. Tell me ye’re all right?”
“I’m all right,” she responds quickly. Too quickly.
I tilt my head, watching a glistening bead of sweat pool at her hairline. She’s hiding something. There’s something wrong, and I’ll be damned if I don’t do something.
Releasing her, she twists at the spot my hand was, and backpedals over to where Aoife is sitting.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you from your big boat day with your dad. I was just on my way to … I’m headed out, too.” Summer chews on the inside of her cheek.
“Come with us!” Aoife shouts, and the cat hisses when Aoife jumps up.
“Oh! Um, no I don’t think?—”
“Ye should,” I blurt out.
Summer’s expression morphs. “Really. I’m sorry, but I have to go.” She reaches for her backpack.
“Please, Miss Summer. I promise you’ll have fun.” Aoife begs, her lower lip covering her top in a pout.
Summer looks like she’s ready to burst into tears.
“Aoife, can ye go stand with Finn for a minute. Let me speak with Miss Smith.”
Aoife nods, whispering “Please, oh, please” over and over to herself as she walks to Finn.
“I’m not sure what ye’re trying to get away from, but ye’d be safe on me boat.” I allow myself to focus on her tangled hair, thrown into a messy ponytail. Pieces fall into her worn-down face, and while Summer is beautiful either way, I can tell she’s not wearing any makeup.
Her eyes well with tears, and something in me cracks. I’m not sure I’d let her go in this state, whether or not she wanted to. The desire to take away the pain so viciously etched into her face is shocking to my system, but at the same time it feels natural. Normal.
“Kieran … I … I can’t. I need to go.”
“I see ye’re still not over that whole being difficult phase.” I crack a smirk at her, willing her to play with me.
I nearly sigh out loud when she quips back, “And it seems you’re still stuck in the being unbearable phase.”
Grinning, I reach up to swipe one of her tears that’s fallen over her cheek. I swear she leans into me, into my touch. “I can take ye anywhere ye need to go afterward. Why don’t ye come eat with us, get a shower, take a beat. I can help, Summer.”
Several more tears squeeze out from underneath where her eyelids have fluttered closed.
“Ye’d be safe. No harm will come to ye while ye’re with me.”
She considers for a second and then nods.
I gesture toward the marina. “We’re this way.”
Summer grabs her backpack, and the cat I’ve now just remembered will be coming with us. Aoife leaps toward Summer, grabbing her hand and twirling around underneath her arm.
Summer laughs, glancing over her shoulder at Finn, who’s smiling back at her.
I glare at him, and he averts his gaze.
“That’s Finn,” Aoife tells Summer. “He works for my dad.”
“Does he now?” Summer nudges Aoife.
Again, I scowl at Finn. His blond hair, brown eyes, chiseled baby face. I rub the spot on my Henley over my chest—was this a good idea? My daughter’s teacher. So much younger than me and tempting with that witty mouth of hers. I need to make sure she’s okay. That’s all.
We move down the marina’s dock. I spot Tadhg, my captain, standing in front of my yacht.
“Good day, sir,” he says as we approach, and Summer looks at him, then back at me. When Finn deviates from the dock to the ramp leading up to the yacht, she stops dead in her tracks while Aoife runs up after him.
“Can I help ye, miss?” Tadhg asks.
“She’s with us, Tadhg. Summer, this is the captain on my boat, Tadhg. Tadhg, meet Summer Smith.”
He tips his captain’s hat. “Ma’am.”
Summer smiles, glancing over Tadhg in his uniform, and no doubt taking in his long gray hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. O’Donnell. We’ll be off in about thirty minutes. Feel free to get settled.” Tadhg walks up the ramp while several crew members come down to check on things from the dock.
I turn to watch Summer take in my yacht, her eyes exploring the sleek streamlined hull that glistens in the sunlight. There are three teakwood decks, each polished with stainless steel railings. The top deck is two levels above the main ship deck, and her gaze climbs the expansive tinted windows stretched along the sides until she reaches the flybridge where the jacuzzi and upper deck bar are.
“This is considered a boat?” she mumbles under her breath.
“Technically it’s me yacht. But Aoife calls it her boat,” I say, placing a hand on the curve of her back and guiding her up the ramp.
“Ah, got it. So this is what luxury on water looks like.”
I chuckle, motioning to the cerulean-blue script on the side of the yacht. “Welcome to Grá Beag, Miss Smith.”
She leans over the railing of the ramp to get a better look at my vessel’s name. “Grá Beag? What’s that mean?”
“It means little love.”
We continue onto the yacht, and I spot Aoife already lounging on the spacious plush seating under the retractable canopy on the main deck. A polished teakwood coffee table with chrome trim sits between four wicker chairs. A fruit platter and dainty glass bottle of apple juice on top.
Must be for Aoife. She has the crew under her thumb.
Aoife waves Summer over from the cream couch facing the stern of the boat. Summer holds on to her cat and moves to sit next to Aoife while her gaze flickers over the yacht.
If she thinks this is nice, I can’t wait to show her the bow where there’s more seating and an unobstructed view of the horizon as the sun sets. I shake my head, catching myself imagining an evening alone with Summer as the sky fades. It’s been so long since I pictured a woman in my life—or in my daughter’s. I’m not sure why someone so much younger has found a foothold in my mind, but I swallow that thought.
I move to where they’re seated and plop down next to Summer.
“—and at night this huge screen comes down and we can watch movies and eat popcorn!” Aoife darts up, arms wide, motioning to where the projection screen is retracted.
The crew scurries around the yacht in a coordinated flurry to prepare for our departure from the marina. It’s just for one night, but this crew is on the Mob’s full-time payroll, living aboard and ready to move at a moment’s notice.
Aoife follows one of the young ladies into the cabin, no doubt making her way up to the pilothouse to hang with Tadhg as he navigates us out into the water.
“I feel like I should be doing something,” Summer says, fiddling with a keychain on her backpack. Her gaze bounces between the crew members and deckhands.
“Ye want to perform some engine checks?” I smirk.
She offers me a lopsided scowl.
“Or maybe help cast off. Release the mooring lines, push off the?—”
“I get it.” She smiles. “I’d be no help.”
“Relax, Summer. When we get out of the marina, I’ll take ye to yer stateroom and ye can get cleaned up.” I dip my head, trying to gather her attention.
She looks down at her clothing from yesterday. “I know how this must look. I appreciate you letting me take a minute.”
I nod. “What are ye runnin’ from, Miss Smith ?” I emphasize the name I’m sure is an alias at this point.
“Running?” She swallows, and I track the movement, my hands aching to reach up and feel her pulse beneath my fingers once more.
“Looks that way to me.” I nod toward the bag on the seat.
“It’s nothing. I wouldn’t want to involve you, especially Aoife.”
I raise my eyebrows. Well, that definitely piques my interest.
To Summer I’m a restaurateur. Her student’s father. She may have a vague idea that with my money I might have connections, but she doesn’t want me involved for safety reasons. My chest expands.
“Summer.” I inch my fingers closer to hers, wanting to interlace them. “Let me help ye.”
Her gaze softens, and she sighs. “L-Let me think about it, please. I don’t want to drag you into my mess.”
Pride swells in my chest, and I shove down the satisfying smirk I almost give her. She doesn’t know who I am or what I can do in this city. I could be her life raft. She may need me, and I want her to.