Epilogue
SEAMUS
I gripped my condensation-wet glass of soda and grimaced as Eli howled at another of our teammates’ jokes. I would have laughed too—it was funny—but I didn’t want to be here on the patio of O’Malley’s pub.
It wasn’t just because we’d just been absolutely trounced by the Greenville Mastiffs in our final championship league game today.
It wasn’t even because half the Mastiffs had decided to stay in Quince Valley for the night and had chosen the Blue Line bar across the street to celebrate in, rather than drive the two hours back to their hometown like a normal baseball team.
Sure, these things sucked. But I didn’t want to be here because socializing made me itch.
I’d gone against my better judgment letting my best friend Eli Dunham drag me for drinks to mark the end of the season, when all I wanted to do was be at home, decompressing from the pressure of that game.
I’d rather be kicking back on my deck, listening to the crickets and watching the glow of fireflies in the trees from the comfort of my hammock.
I loved that hammock. And I loved being alone, too.
Mostly.
“Seamus, you’re seriously not getting a beer?” Eli asked when the server left the patio with the team’s second-round orders.
“I’ve got better beer at home,” I said.
“Is it because we’re at Seamus’s?”
I narrowed my eyes at Eli and he laughed heartily. He knew it drove me nuts how half the team had insisted I had to come out tonight because the bar bore my name. It was stupid. Seamus at Seamus O’Malley’s.
“Yeah, man. That’s exactly why.”
Eli let out another big laugh and clapped me on the shoulder. But I knew he wouldn’t put the pressure on me to join in. He knew it was a big enough deal that I was even here.
The truth was, I was also just bone tired.
I’d been working my ass off all week at the mega-mansion my family contracting business, Reilly and Sons, was building up in the Hills.
Throw a baseball game on top of it—one where we knew we were going to lose, but pulled out all the stops giving the league champions a run for their money anyway—and I was spent.
Eli turned back to the rest of the guys at the table. They were talking about how we’d come so close to schooling the Mastiffs (we hadn’t), and I told myself once I was done with this soda, I’d make my excuses and head home.
Across the street at the Blue Line, the door banged open and a couple of women stumbled out.
They were in jeans and tank tops that hugged their torsos, and I said a silent prayer of thanks to summer.
Not that I was ogling, but they were both cute, and I was a warm-blooded man who happened to not have gotten any for an embarrassingly long time.
The women stumbled, laughing. They’d obviously had a couple drinks.
More than a couple. The first one, who had red hair up in a ponytail, held something up in her hand and started singing.
Then the second one did a twirl, her chestnut hair flowing around her like a mermaid’s. When she stopped, she was facing me. Her eyes locked on mine, even though there was a whole street between us.
Then she waved at me.
Oh shit. I sat up straighter, my stomach doing a little dive.
That wasn’t just any woman. That was Chelsea Kelly, my best friend’s little sister.
I glanced at Eli, but he was deeply absorbed in the conversation next to him. I lifted up a hand—brief and noncommittal—then quickly turned back to the table, taking a long gulp of soda to try to shift my focus.
I knew if Eli saw his sister like this, he’d be pissed. He’d been telling me how Chelsea had been going a little off the rails. I’d noticed. I’d tried to ask her sister about it awhile ago, but I’d been so fucking awkward about it. Then she told me Chelsea had a boyfriend and it got even worse.
But I didn’t know if that was still going on, because Eli had been complaining about her again.
“I don’t know what the hell is up with her,” Eli had said, “but she spends more time out than at home.”
“You’re not her dad,” I’d said, wanting very much not to get involved again.
“But I am her big brother,” he’d said. “Same diff.”
I’d almost opened my mouth again to remind him she was a grown woman, but I didn’t want to bring attention to the fact I’d noticed.
And fuck, I’d noticed. Gone was the little girl with golden brown pigtails and freckles I remembered from when Eli and I were kids.
Gone too was the almost awkward young woman I’d seen here and there on social media when Eli posted shots of one of their family gatherings.
Now, she was a woman. A soft, kind, sweet woman who always said hi when she saw me and asked me about my family, even when I barely gave her more than a few-word answer.
But it didn’t matter. Chelsea was Eli’s sister, and if he saw me ogling his little sister, he’d probably punch me, best friend or not. Maybe especially because I was his best friend.
Thank god his back was to the street now.
I tried to concentrate on the conversation happening next to me—more talk about the Mastiffs and their sad starting lineup—which had just kicked the shit out of us.
But then the first woman—Chelsea’s friend—giggled as she dropped something.
She bent over and picked up an object that flashed in the evening light, shaking them up high over her head.
Keys. I sat up straight.
Were they planning on driving?
The woman held the keys out and a car around the corner chirped—I could just make out the lights flashing too. Then Chelsea’s friend hooked her arm in Chelsea’s and they toddled down the street toward it.
My heart thumped in my chest. I couldn’t let them drive.
“I gotta go,” I said, standing up abruptly. I pulled out a couple of bills and tossed them on the table.
“Wait, what?” Eli said.
But I took advantage of his confusion and slipped between the tables, hopping the patio partition and jogging across the street.
I reached the women as the first one was fumbling with the door handle of her sedan.
“Hey,” I said.
Both of them startled and when the first one tensed, reaching for her purse, I realized I hadn’t thought this out.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Oh,” Chelsea said. “It’s Seamus. Hey Seamus.”
“Hey Chels. You’re not getting in this car, are you?”
“Oh… yeah, we’re going to this party Mia heard about up in the Hills.”
Mia, who’d relaxed once she saw Chelsea knew me, jingled her keys in front of me. “You wanna come?”
I looked at her a moment, assessing, then reached out and grabbed the keys from her hand. It was an easy take.
“Hey!” she’d exclaimed.
“Sorry,” I said, genuinely sorry. I wasn’t a rude person. I didn’t like doing it. But I wasn’t letting her drive like this.
Especially not with Chelsea in the passenger seat.
“I’ll drive you two home,” I said.
“I’m not going home,” Chelsea said. Then she hiccuped.
“I’m driving you home,” I said. I couldn’t in good conscience drive an already wasted Chelsea Kelly to another party. There was no way in hell. I was taking her back to her place, chucking her into her room, and hopefully, she wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning.
“You know what?” Mia said. “I think some of those Greenville guys said they were down to party. I’m going to go back inside. Can I have my keys, please? Promise I won’t drive.”
I unhooked her car fob from her key chain, pocketing the fob and handing the rest back to her.
“You can’t do that!”
“I just did. I’ll give them to Chelsea to give back to you.”
While she huffed, I tipped my head at Chelsea. “I’m right over there.”
My truck, with its Reilly and Sons logo on the back, was up on the other side of the street.
Chelsea studied me, and for the briefest flash, the saddest expression I’d ever seen passed over her, darkening her eyes. Then it was gone, so quickly I was sure I imagined it. She sighed. “I’ll see you later, Mia,” she said.
I had to help Chelsea up into my truck’s cab by grasping her by the ribcage. She was warm under my touch; her tank top slipping slightly so my hands brushed her skin. She laughed like I’d tickled her.
God fucking help me.
Once I was in the truck myself, I had to lean over to help her with her seatbelt. The scent she was wearing was some kind of tropical fruity coconut thing.
I tried to ignore both those things, focusing on getting the truck started so I could get my best friend’s sister home.
“You alright?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm,” she said. She leaned herself against the door of the pickup and stared at me as I pulled into the lane.
Heat crawled up my neck.
Just get her home. That’s all you have to do, buddy. It was a quick drive to the Rolling Hills resort from downtown. I just had to get back onto the main drag, then follow it up and around to the Quince River bridge, then up the hill, and bam, this would all be over.
“You’re a good guy, aren’t you, Seamus? You’ve always been a good guy. So quiet, too. Must be hard being around Eli. He has an opinion on everything.”
“I have opinions,” I said. “I just don’t need to tell everyone about them all the time.”
“Oh, so Eli annoys you too?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Eli was opinionated. But I liked that about my best friend.
He wasn’t afraid to say what he thought.
Unlike other people who trampled over me because I didn’t say whatever was on my mind all the time, he listened to me, gave me a chance to share mine if I wanted to.
Anyway, why was she talking about me? I didn’t like talking about myself.
“How come you’re out partying so much, Chelsea?” I asked.
At this, she scowled. “Who says I’m partying so much?”
“Everyone.”
“Eli hasn’t exactly been keeping on the straight and narrow.”
“He got divorced. Then his—”
I was going to say his mom passed, but of course her mom passed too.
If Chelsea knew what I was going to say, she didn’t show it.
“I’d just rather be out than sitting at home.”
“Funny, I’d rather be at home than going out.”
“I don’t like being alone.”