Chapter Thirty-Five
Sam
“Liquid gold. That’s what it is.”
Ronan sets a glass before me and casts a critical eye over its contents.
“Mad to think about, isn’t it? Malt. Hops. Yeast. Water. Four simple ingredients.” He heaves a sigh. “And I still manage to mess it up.”
“You’re getting there,” I protest as he knocks back his latest brew. “Really.”
“You’re too nice to me, Sam,” he says, wincing from the taste. “I can no longer trust you as my tester.”
“I am…sorry to hear that.”
“Oh, I bet.” He reaches for a glass of water. It’s just us two in the pub. It’s too late for other customers, and we’ve been talking about everything and nothing for the past hour as he prepares to close up.
“How is she, then?” he asks, tipping his head to the ceiling.
“Better. Or getting better, at least.” Her cuts and bruises are healing normally, but I know she’s heartbroken at the damage. Daunted by all the work it’s going to take.
“She tells me you’ll be heading off soon,” Ronan continues. “Back to New York.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, you’ll be sure to come back and visit. I’ve grown too used to having you around to never see you again.”
“Is that your way of saying you’ll miss me?”
“It is. You’re a good lad.” He gives me a sly look. “Even if you can’t hold your liquor.”
Twenty minutes later, he makes a show of kicking me out, but I’m not ready to turn in yet.
A glance up at the window tells me Ciara’s asleep anyway, so I don’t worry about her wondering where I am as I start along the road the same way we walked that first weekend.
I walk all the way to her house.
I would have viewed this trip as a pilgrimage for most of my teenage years, and I still haven’t gotten used to seeing it. Sometimes, I still can’t believe that I’ve been in it.
Now I stay behind the yellow warning tape, keeping my distance as I gaze at the gaping, ragged hole along the side.
If it’s hard for me to see it like this, I can’t imagine how Ciara must feel.
And I know she’s strong, I know she’s surrounded by friends and by people who love her, but I selfishly want her to need me too.
I want to be the one to comfort her. To make her days better and her smiles brighter.
I want to see her through every other thing life throws her way, and knowing I might not be able to leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
This summer has been like a dream. One that I think I’m ready to wake up from. Maybe not exactly to the life I’ve had, but something close to it.
Hopefully, something better.
But for that to happen I need something else.
Someone else.
I stay there for a long time, trying to commit every inch of the place to memory before heading back to Delaney’s.
I let myself back in as quietly as I can, climbing the stairs slowly so as not to wake Ciara, but I’m only halfway up when I see that the door at the top is open, soft light spilling out.
A second later, I hear the murmur of voices. Ciara is talking on the phone. As soon as I realize it, I step back, ready to give her some privacy before the person she’s talking to gives a short laugh, and I pause, recognizing it.
My sister.
“Is he always like that?”
“Always,” Lizzie says. “And I have a feeling he always will be. Billy. Go to bed. Now.” There’s a scuffle and then the sound of a door slamming on her end. A second later, Lizzie sighs. “I shouldn’t complain.”
“I’d complain.”
“All right, then, I will.”
I step into room to find Ciara sitting cross-legged on the bed. Her laptop sits open beside her, and she’s holding my phone in her lap.
“How long do you think the repairs will take?” Lizzie asks.
“I don’t know,” Ciara replies. “A lot of different people have told me a lot of different things, but all I keep hearing is money. I know I should just be grateful that no one got hurt, but…”
“It’s still a massive shock,” Lizzie says quietly.
“Yeah.” She looks up to acknowledge me, but Lizzie speaks before I can.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” Lizzie says. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her sound so serious. “I never meant to make things so hard for you.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“Doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have run my big mouth off. If I could take it back, I would.”
“Thank you.”
“You know,” Lizzie continues, sounding hopeful, “the next time you’re in New York, and you’ve got the time, I’d love to get lunch. I feel like I know you already, seeing as how Sam hasn’t shut up about you.”
“I’d like that,” Ciara says. “And same. He hasn’t shut up about you either.”
“Oh yeah? What did he say?”
I roll my eyes at the suspicion in her voice, but Ciara just smiles at me.
“All good things,” she says, and they talk for a few more seconds before my nephew forces Lizzie off the call.
“Sorry for answering your phone,” she says when I join her on the bed. “She wouldn’t stop calling and I got worried it might be an emergency, so I answered and then we…I don’t know. We just kept talking.”
“I’m glad you did. Thank you for accepting her apology.”
Ciara shrugs. “She meant it. Plus, she’s kind of hard to stay mad at.”
“I don’t know,” I say dryly. “I’ve managed many times before.” I nod at her laptop. “You’re writing?”
“Yeah. Can’t seem to stay away from it.” She pulls her shoulders back, stretching them out.
“Tired?”
“Not really.”
I look out at the starry sky. “Want to go for a swim?”
The beach is empty again.
But I guess it is almost five in the morning.
There’s no full moon this time, and we keep the headlights on as we strip down to our bathing suits.
Ciara holds my hand as we walk into the ocean, but when her grip tightens I think it’s more to make sure I don’t change my mind as opposed to a source of comfort. She doesn’t go as far out this time. Only halfway up to her chest before she pauses on a sandbank and turns to face me.
“One second,” she tells me, disappearing under the freezing water before bobbing back up with a gasp. “Now you.”
“I really don’t— Yep, okay,” I say when she glares at me. It’s just as cold as last time, and I rise as quickly as I can, already shivering.
Ciara shakes her head, but she can’t hide her smile. “You’re so dramatic sometimes.”
“Says the woman who ran into a half-collapsed house.”
“Says the man who went in chasing after me.” She says it like a challenge but there’s a hint of doubt there that I’m not used to seeing on her. A question she won’t ask even though she has to know the answer by now.
God knows I do.
“I’m going to tell you something,” I begin.
“And I can’t tell if it’s good or bad timing, but not telling you would be the biggest mistake of my life.
” I pause, waiting for nerves or a knot in my throat.
But there’s nothing. Only the truth. “I’m in love with you,” I tell her.
“And I know we work together and live on separate continents and have completely different sleep schedules to the point where I don’t know how you manage to function half the time, but I love you.
I love your voice and your words and your brain, and I love how all your friends and family love you too.
I think you’re stubborn and funny and that you try and you care, and I think, if we wanted to, we could really make something of this. Something spectacular.”
Her eyes take on a sheen, and she sniffs, but whether that’s her overwhelming emotion or the salt water up her nose, I can’t tell.
“Spectacular, huh?”
And if I’m baring my soul, I might as well go all the way. “Sometimes, when you look at me, I feel like I can’t breathe.”
“Sam—”
“I want you to come back with me to New York.”
She stares up at me, stunned. “What?”
“I don’t want to end this.”
“I need you to be serious right now,” she says shakily. “I need you to be completely one hundred percent serious, because I can’t handle it if you’re not.”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”
She laughs a little, as if she can’t believe what I’m saying, and then looks toward the light dawning over the dunes behind us, then back out at the vast ocean to the west.
“New York?” she asks, but I don’t think she expects an answer. “What if it doesn’t work out?”
“What if it does?”
Her gaze lifts to mine, her eyes impossibly wide and open, letting me see every vulnerable part of her. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course,” I say instantly, relieved it’s not a no. “You can have all the time in the world.”
“I’ll give you a proper answer,” she says. “I just…with the house. I can’t leave it, but I know I can’t—”
“Hey.” I wipe my thumb across her cheek as tears start to fall, and she gives me a watery smile.
“I’ll think about it. I promise I will.”
“That’s all I ask.”
We fall quiet, watching each other as the world around us lightens, a slow seeping of pale blue drifting up from the horizon.
“I love you too,” she says. “More than I ever thought was possible. And I think I have for a while.”
Her hand finds mine under the water, and I clasp it tight as goose bumps appear on her arms. “Are you cold?”
She shakes her head. “Can we stay here a little longer?”
“We can stay here as long as you like.”
She moves even closer, vanquishing the final inch of space between us as she wraps her arms around my waist. Above us, the sun begins its ascent and as she rests her head against my chest, listening to my heart, I know without a doubt that from now on, every time it beats, it will beat for her.