23. Nova
Chapter twenty-three
Nova
Two Months Later
“ A s you can see, the property needs work, but it’s less than a block from the beach,” my realtor says as she tours the third bar I’ve looked at since coming to Emerald Haven, a little beach town in South Carolina. I picked this place because it’s right between Myrtle Beach and Charleston, South Carolina. I wanted somewhere quiet without the highs and lows of the tourism season. Somewhere I could feel safe and build a life for myself.
When Harper and I left Shine, I went back to New Orleans with her for a couple weeks. Even though Cillian assured us the men who took Harper and me were no longer a threat, it took a minute or two not to look over my shoulder every time I left the house. It actually helped that Damon was there every day, to my surprise. He and I never really got along, but when Harper said he wished he'd done a lot of things differently, turns out one of those things was the way he treated me. She seems happy, and that’s all I can really ask for. Though I don’t think he’ll be moving in right away, the way she lit up whenever he was over has me thinking it won’t be long.
About a week after getting home, a courier showed up with an envelope from Cillian. There was a letter from a lawyer regarding my nonexistent dead grandfather’s estate, bank account information with my name on it, and a Louisiana driver’s license with my real name on it. And that was it. Nothing from the man who hasn’t left my thoughts for the last two months. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. I may have come a long way in figuring out how to process certain things without lashing out, but this one had and still has me stumped.
I sit on the couch at our house and stare at the paperwork, which is where Harper finds me about an hour later.
She looks at the paperwork on the coffee table in front of me, then to my face. “You okay?” she asks.
I just shake my head. “I don’t know why I can’t stop staring at this. It’s not like he’s going to jump out of the envelope.”
“Nova, if you miss him this much, call him.”
I let out a slow breath and look her in the eye. “I can’t. There’s no way the man will trust me after what I pulled. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me either. If there was even a slight chance he wanted anything with me, he would have brought the papers himself. Instead, he had a courier drop them off.”
Harper looks at me with sympathy creasing her brow.
“Don’t, Harper. It’s okay, really.” It really isn’t, but it is what it is. “This is good. I’ll go straight, and Cillian will live his life just as he was supposed to. It was a great distraction and even better memories, but that’s all it is.”
Harper knows me well enough to know any arguments she wants to make will be for nothing. She’s one of those sweet souls who believes in happily ever afters. I’m…not. I’ll never hold ill will toward Cillian, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to change my entire life and all the plans I made for myself because of a few days of great sex and a connection that, when tested, failed miserably. I think the way I received all this information that I keep staring at is proof of that. And eventually, that will be fine with me.
“It’s a great space,” I tell the realtor. “Give me a few days, and I’ll think about it.
“Of course.”
We part ways and I get into the little red car I bought before coming to South Carolina. I’m reformed these days, living the straight and narrow, as they say. And regular people do shit like that, right? Buy cars, rent houses, start businesses. The fact that the money is from a little heist we pulled off three months ago doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
Pulling up to the house I’m renting, I sit in my car and stare at the light-blue Craftsman-style home. It’s only two bedrooms, which is fine because I only need one. Every time I come home from exploring the little town, I do this—sit in my car and stare. I was so damn excited to get out of New Orleans, I didn’t stop to think what the reality of living here by myself would look like. I sit and stare and have no desire to go into an empty house. My time in Emerald Haven has been spent putting a house together—not that I’ve done much—and checking out the bar scene. I looked at the last bar that’s for sale out here. It has everything I wanted. It’s closer to the beach than the other two. It has a small kitchen that would be simple for one person to run, and it has an amazing patio that has a direct line of sight to the ocean. It’s everything I dreamed of for so long, but instead of begging to sign the papers like I thought I would, I walked out still uncertain.
“It’s just a house, and you just need time, Nova.” Sometimes giving myself a little pep talk works, and I can walk in grateful for the changes I’ve made and the direction I’m going in. Other days, not so much. Today is the latter, but I can’t sit out here all night.
I get out of my car and walk up the steps to my house. When I open the door, silence greets me, like it does every day. I’ve realized I truly hate a silent house. Harper and I usually worked the same schedule, her being a bartender and me usually not leaving the house until after dark, either. The first week I was here, I’d wake in the morning and the thought of what Harper was making for breakfast would cross my mind…until I realized she wasn’t here. I’d have to shake the homesick feeling away and get out of bed. Then, my mind would inevitably wander to Cillian and his blue-gray eyes that were always a little darker when he first opened them. I’d remember the mornings I woke up to him staring at me and being tangled up with him after a night of exhausting ourselves with each other.
We only knew each other for a few months, and in those months, we only spent a handful of days together. Still, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that was all it took for me to fall for him. I thought this feeling would go away. I thought it was because we burned so hot from the start, and this ache was just a remnant of that. But I was wrong. The pain of not being with him—of not seeing that smile I’d swear he reserved only for me—breaks my heart a little more with every passing day, not less. That’s not how it’s supposed to go, right? Time is supposed to heal all wounds or some such bullshit, but this one is only getting worse, and I don’t have the first clue on how to fix it.
My phone rings in my pocket, and I pull it out to find Lucy’s name on the screen. We’ve talked a handful of times since I left Shine. When we first exchanged numbers, I really didn’t expect her to keep in touch. The only woman I’ve ever been close with is my best friend, but Lucy calls and checks on me at least once a week, which I find oddly comforting. My circle expanded when I let go of the anger over my brother’s death. And surprisingly, I don’t hate it.
“Hey, Lucy,” I answer, falling back into the tan couch that came with the rental.
“You don’t sound happy. What’s wrong?”
For being a loudmouth harpy, as her boyfriend likes to call her, she’s incredibly perceptive.
“Why would anything be wrong? I’m living my dream of being in a quiet little beach town about to buy a bar and have more money than I’ve ever had in my entire life.”
“Then why do you sound like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying too hard to convince yourself.”
“Damn, lady. Way to cut to the quick.” A huff of unamused laughter leaves my lips.
“Who has time for bullshit?”
I’m silent for a few moments, and Lucy allows me the time to process everything. She may like to get right to the point, but at least she’s allowing me to catch up a bit.
“I thought this was what I wanted. That starting over was going to be just that. A fresh start. New town, new me. But it’s not. Or maybe the new me just needs to get used to being bored? I don’t know.”
“Or maybe you’re trying to fit yourself in a role that isn’t you. Someone you aren’t meant to be.”
“This is what I’ve been working toward since before Coop even went to live in Shine. I want this, Lucy.”
Right?
“It’s okay to admit that you don’t. It’s perfectly acceptable to change paths, Nova. Because from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t sound like this is really what you want. You’re out there away from everyone you love and care about. What's so important about being there instead of New Orleans?”
When I think about leaving Emerald Haven, it’s not New Orleans that I think about going to.
“Your silence is deafening,” Lucy says. “You know, Jude and I have been to Boston a few times in the last couple months.”
“And?”
“And there’s a certain mob lieutenant who’s been a grumpy bastard every time, at least according to Jude. Me, on the other hand? I think he’s a little heartbroken and doesn’t know what to do.”
“Oh, yeah? And who would that be, because it can’t be Cillian. He sent me a bunch of paperwork by courier. That doesn’t scream someone who misses me.”
“Well, every time we’ve been to Clovers and Alessia or Gemma ask about you, he finds a spot on the wall that’s much more interesting than our conversation, then he excuses himself from the table. And that screams someone who misses you and has no idea what to do about it.”
“He could have come to New Orleans. Or he could show up any time down here. It’s not like I’m keeping where I am a secret.”
“Yeah, and it’s not like you left him twice already. Tell me, Nova, how many times has he left you?”
“None, but the last time doesn’t count. I had to go home and get things sorted.”
“And who helped you do that?”
“Cillian,” I answer through a clenched jaw.
“Nova, I’m going to say this with all the love in my heart—you two need to pull your heads out of your asses and realize that neither of you is happy without the other, and you’re both either too scared or too fucking pigheaded to do something about it. Someone who doesn’t care about you wouldn’t make sure you and Harper were safe from anyone who could have found out about you and used you against the Monaghans for funsies. They wouldn’t sell off a load of hot jewelry and use their lawyer to draw up a bunch of fake paperwork so there wouldn’t be questions about where the money came from. And as for you, stop being so damn stubborn. Trust me when I say this because I know a little something about being a stubborn asshole who’s scared to go out on a limb and actually trust someone. Cillian has never let you down, even when he had every chance and, frankly, every right to walk away. Instead, he let you do the walking because he thought it was what you wanted, and he wanted to give you anything you could possibly want or need, the dumb bastard. If you want my opinion—”
“Hasn’t this whole tirade been your opinion?” I ask, cutting her off.
“No, my sweet friend who needs to shut up and let me finish, it is not. This is me giving you the reality check you desperately need. It’s your turn, Nova. You need to be the one to put yourself out there and get real comfortable with the idea that being obstinate doesn’t mean being strong. And being strong doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to be scared at the same time. Moving to a new town and starting over was quite the leap. And it’s going to take another leap to admit it’s not what you really want and go to Boston to get what you and I both know will make you happy. Are you strong enough to do that?”
“I don’t know,” I reply on a broken whisper.
“Bullshit. Do you love him?”
I’m silent again. Pretty sure we’ve already established that I’m shit at admitting things to myself. Especially things that have the potential to hurt me. But I’m also not a liar. The way he looked at me, like he was fascinated with everything I said, the way he always made me feel safe, protected, and alive just by being there, those moments when I saw his real smile and heard his laugh still make my heart smile as though he was standing right in front of me. There was a bubble the two of us somehow created together. I’d never felt anything like it. Never in my life had I been the center of someone’s universe and vice versa. It was heady and intense, and nothing could have prepared me for it. But that’s how it works, right? They don’t say falling in love for no reason. Because that’s what it felt like. We were in free fall, and we were happy, laughing, and holding each other as we went. Until it came crashing down, and I ran.
“Yes.”
“Then what the hell are you doing in South Carolina?”
“What am I doing? This is crazy,” I mumble to myself as I stand in front of a small bar on a chilly Boston street. Shit, I must look like a crazy person muttering to myself in front of Clovers if the side-eye stares I’m getting from random strangers passing me are anything to go by.
The day after my conversation with Lucy, I called the realtor and told her I wasn’t interested in the bar. Then, ten minutes later, I had a plane ticket booked for Boston. And I’m scared, that kind of knot-in-the-stomach-might-puke-right-here scared, but like Lucy said, being strong doesn’t mean you can’t be scared. I have to at least try because I refuse to live with the what-if .
I open the door to the bar and take in my surroundings. An old jukebox sits against the back wall, and some classic rock plays in the background. The brick walls and beer signs, coupled with a large Irish flag hanging on another wall, seem pretty typical of what one would expect in an Irish neighborhood tavern in Boston. I walk up to the bar and have a seat, noting the prominent placement of Cillian’s favorite Irish whiskey. The mirror behind the bottles makes me smile, remembering the first night I met Cillian and the rundown I gave him about mirrors and bars and the night that ensued.
God, this is ridiculous. Who shows up at a bar to find a guy who may not want anything to do with her?
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks as I’m still arguing with myself about whether I should stay or hop back on a plane to anywhere else.
“She’ll have a whiskey 7,” a smooth voice says from behind me.
I turn and my gaze collides with the blue-gray one I’ve been missing desperately for two months.
“Awfully presumptuous to assume you know my drink,” I reply.
“I’m sorry. Would you prefer a daiquiri?”
My face scrunches in disgust. “God, no.”
Cillian has a seat next to me, his eyes never leaving mine. “What are you doing here, Nova?”
“Well, Cillian, I’m having a drink at a bar.”
He shakes his head and the corner of his mouth tips in a small smile. “That fucking mouth.”
“I seem to remember you liking my mouth.”
“I seem to remember you living in a small coastal town in South Carolina.”
“I do—or did. I’m not sure at the moment.” My gaze stays locked on his, waiting and hoping whatever he says next will help me make that decision.
“Hmm, well I guess I won’t be needing this then.” He pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and tosses it on the bar next to me. When he nods toward the paper, I pick it up and open the folded sheet. It’s a confirmation for his flight that was supposed to be leaving in two hours. A flight scheduled for South Carolina.
“What is this?” I ask, looking at the paper in my hand then back to him.
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and hits me with one of those soft and sweet smiles. “Pretty sure everyone around here is sick of me being a surly asshole. Quite frankly, I’m sick of it, too. So I decided to book a flight.” The bartender sets my drink in front of me, and Cillian orders a whiskey on the rocks for himself. “I’m so damn tired of this, Nova.”
“Of what?” I breathe out.
“Of this hole in my chest. The one that only seems to be filled when I’m around you. Before I met you in New Orleans, there was something missing. Something that had been missing for a long time. I don’t know…I thought working with Liam would fix whatever it was. And it did, for a while.” He shoots me a crooked smile, and my heart does that double-beat thing that only seems to happen around him. “But then, I met this enchanting little thief with green eyes and a smart mouth, and I was smitten. I thought it would pass. Thought it was just a bit of excitement, and I’d go back to my regularly scheduled life. But the more time I spent with you, the more places inside of me you managed to sneak into, the harder I fell for you.”
The bartender sets Cillian’s whiskey in front of him, and I watch the way his throat moves while he takes a long sip from the glass. It’s an odd thing to miss, but sitting here, I realize how much I missed every damn thing about him, even the way he drinks his bourbon.
I blow out a breath and sip my own cocktail. “It can’t be this easy. Nothing in my life has ever been this easy.” But nothing in my life has ever felt this right, either.
“It’s not going to be. Not by a long shot. But I’m willing to show up every day and prove that you can trust me. That you’ve always been able to trust me. I’m not going to leave you, Nova. But that means you can’t leave either. I don’t care about a fresh start—I want a real start. I think we both deserve that, don’t you?”
I nod and swallow around the lump in my throat. “Yeah, I do.”
Cillian slides his hand to the back of my head and brings his mouth to mine, kissing me like he’s missed the taste of my mouth as much as I’ve missed his. His tongue sweeps in and tangles with mine, neither of us giving a shit that we’re in a bar full of people in the middle of the afternoon.
“Thank God,” he says when he pulls a breath’s width away. “Because I was ready to beg, had a whole speech and everything.”
“Damn, I wish I would have been able to hear it.”
“It started with please and ended with let me love you .”
Tears fill my eyes, and when one drops, Cillian swipes it away with his thumb and presses his forehead against mine.
“I think…I think that would have worked. And I would have told you that I love you, Cillian, and I can’t think of anything I want more than letting you love me back.”
“Yeah?”
I nod as a fresh wave of tears fills my eyes. “Yeah.”