25. Jax
CHAPTER 25
Jax
T wo weeks.
That’s how long I’d been gone. Fourteen days that felt like a damn eternity.
I’d barely made it through the endorsement meetings in London, let alone the nightmare, which was the Dublin event where Francia showed up. Talk about drama. Give me honest-to-God snake versus puppy theater any day over Francia pretending to be all hurt because I cheated on her because we were at the same event.
“Maybe just talk to the press,” Brad suggested.
“I will not discuss my personal life with the media,” I gave him my canned response.
The thing was that if you did it once, they expected you to do it again. If you just didn’t talk about your life and only stuck to golf, no matter what, they couldn’t hold you hostage. Also, I didn’t give a flying fuck if people thought I cheated on Francia. Could not care less.
By the time I got to Cork, all I could think about was getting to Ballybeg—and her. I’d left Nikolai’s Porsche in Cork on my way to London and had arranged to have it delivered to him in Copenhagen. For the winding, narrow roads of County Clare, I’d rented something more practical—a Land Rover Defender. It wasn’t flashy, but it could handle the rugged countryside and unpredictable weather better than any sports car ever could.
I parked outside The Banshee’s Rest and all but ran inside, like a golfer chasing the perfect drive down the fairway—straight, sure, and desperate to see where it would land.
But the second I walked in, I knew something was wrong, especially when no one responded to my greeting.
The usual warmth of the pub wasn’t there. The regulars barely looked up at me from their pints, and Ronan—who was usually quick with a grin or a sarcastic remark—just gave me a curt nod before disappearing into the kitchen.
Fuck! Did something bad happen? What did I miss? And why the hell was Dee not behind the bar?
I set my bag down near the door, my chest tightening as I scanned the room. “Where’s Dee?” I asked Saoirse, my voice sharper than I intended.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re back now, are you?”
I looked at her, baffled, and then turned to Liam Murphy, who had stood up from his stool. The man didn’t look good. There was a gray pallor to his face. “Maybe it’s best you head back where you came from.”
What the fuck was going on?
“Liam, where’s Dee?”
“She’s in the back,” Seamus said almost pleasantly. “And just to let you know, I don’t believe any of that shite Cillian dropped here about you.”
I gaped at him. “What?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself, Yank?” Liam muttered.
I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I headed toward the kitchen, my boots echoing on the worn wooden floor.
When I pushed open the door, I found her standing at the counter, chopping vegetables with a fierceness that made me think she was imagining the cutting board was someone’s face. Her fiery hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she wasn’t wearing her usual apron—just an oversized sweater that looked like it had been through a war. She was a sight for my sore eyes.
“Dee.” I stepped closer.
She didn’t even look up. “What do you want, Jax?” Her tone was clipped and cold. Not prickly, not sassy, just…devoid of emotion.
I stopped in my tracks, frowning. “What’s going on? Did something happen while I was gone?”
She let out a bitter laugh, finally setting the knife down and turning to face me. Her green eyes were blazing, but there was something raw and painful in them that made my stomach twist. She was hurting. Fuck!
“You could say that.” She crossed her arms as if protecting herself. “Cillian stopped by.”
My frown deepened. “I heard.”
“He showed me some pictures,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Pictures of you with the developers. Smiling. Shaking hands. Made any good deals, did you?”
I kept staring at her. “What?”
“Aye, you thought you could just meet with freaking Shamrock Global Ventures, and no one would find out? You’re all over social media.”
None of this was making sense. I knew who Shamrock Global Ventures was, I’d done my research. It was a company that Big Gil had created along with other investors for his Irish projects.
“Baby, I don’t have social media…I mean, I do, but I don’t look. Someone from Brad’s team manages that shit.”
I wondered if I was imagining, but her eyes softened.
She pulled out her phone from her pocket, tapped on it a few times, and handed it to me. I looked at what was my Instagram profile, the one I didn’t do anything for. Hell, I didn’t even use any of the social media apps on my phone. I stayed away from that shit.
I saw the picture of me shaking hands with some guy I’d been introduced to. I couldn’t even remember his name and then I read the caption. I froze, the air leaving my lungs like I’d been punched. “Dee, it’s not what you think?—”
“Don’t,” she snapped, cutting me off. “Don’t you dare stand there and try to play me, Jax! Cillian told me everything, how you’re working with those gobshites that are trying to buy the land and how you used me to get close to the village, to make this whole damn project go smoother.”
“What?” I said, my voice rising. “Are you out of your ever-lovin’ mind? You think I got the time and energy to come here and…do what? What exactly are you accusing me of?”
“Are you saying you’re not in touch with those people?” she demanded.
“I made a few calls and talked to the guy who heads the venture. But that was…for you, to get a better understanding of?—"
“For me?” she cut me off, her voice dripping with venom. “Was sleeping with me part of the plan, too? Or was that just a fun bonus while you plotted to destroy everything I’ve been fighting for?”
I stared at her, stunned. “You can’t actually believe that,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “You know me, Dee. You know I’d never do that to you.”
“Do I?” she shot back, her voice cracking. “Because right now, I feel like I don’t know you at all.”
That broke something in me.
I’d spent days thinking about her, missing her, wanting nothing more than to come back to Ballybeg and be with her. And now she was standing there, accusing me of the one thing I’d been trying to protect her from?
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “You’ve got this all figured out, haven’t you? I’m just some lying, manipulative bastard who waltzed into your life and used you, yeah?”
She didn’t answer, but the way her jaw tightened told me everything I needed to know.
I stepped closer, my frustration boiling over. “You want to know the truth, Dee? Fine. I love you. There. I love you, and I’ve spent every damn day of the past two weeks thinking about how to help the village, but apparently, that doesn’t matter, does it? Because you’ve already decided I’m the bad guy because your gobshite ex said so.”
Her eyes widened, and she looked contrite for a moment, but she quickly masked it with a glare. “Don’t turn this around on me.” Her voice shook. I hated that she was hurting. In fact, I hated it more than the fact that she was hurting me. “You’ve been keeping secrets since the day you got here, Jax. How am I supposed to trust you when you’ve never even been honest with me about who you are?”
I threw my hands in the air, letting out a bitter laugh. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’ve been nothing but honest with you, Dee. But you? You don’t trust anyone. You’ve built your walls so high you wouldn’t let me in even if I begged. And you know what? I’m done begging.”
“Good,” she snapped. “Because I’m done listening.”
We stood there, glaring at each other, the tension crackling like a live wire between us. My heart was pounding, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to kiss her or yell at her.
Finally, I let out a slow, shaky breath and stepped back. “You need to admit you love me and stop making excuses to push me away.”
Her eyes flashed, and for a moment, I thought she might slap me. But instead, she crossed her arms, her voice cold and sharp as ice. “Why don’t you stick your head where the sun doesn’t shine, Jax Caldwell?”
“Gladly,” I shot back and stormed out of the kitchen.
The pub was dead silent as I walked through it, every set of eyes on me as I headed for the door.
“Now, this is for all of you. I have nothing to do with those arseholes who’re trying to buy up Ballybeg. And y’all should know better than to believe Cillian O’Farrell.” I let out a long, frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair.
“I never believed him,” Eileen Nolan said primly.
“Me neither.” Seamus raised his hand.
Saoirse arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know what to believe.” Then she shrugged. “But you’re good people, I think , so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Liam Murphy looked me up and down. “Boyo, you screw with her, and I’ll finish you. I’m already dyin’, so the garda won’t even bother putting me in prison.”
“She doesn’t believe you, though.” Noreen sauntered to where I stood and put a hand on my shoulder. “She’s had it hard, and those photos…I mean, you know they didn’t look good.”
“I meet a lot of people, Noreen; most of the time, I shake hands, and they take a picture. It’s what I do at these damn sponsor events. I don’t even know the guy…but you bet I’m going to find out and rip his fucking head off.”
This had Big Gil written all over it. He probably had talked about me to Cillian, who’d probably told him that I was holed up here and that conniving son of a bitch put two and two together and decided to use me.
“I’m trying to find a way out of y’all losing your home,” I announced. “I promise you I’m going to do everything I can. I don’t want a resort here. I don’t even like golf resorts.”
Everyone nodded.
Ronan walked into the pub, his hair windblown and his jacket hugging him tight. He grinned at me and hugged me. “Good to have you back, Yank.”
I looked at him, confused. “You’re not pissed with me?”
“About what?”
“The pictures?”
He shrugged. “Don’t believe you’re that much of a gobshite. And you’re in love with Dee. I think you’d cut your arm first before you hurt her.”
So, how was it that Ronan saw it but Dee didn’t? Damn, that stubborn Wild Cat.
“That’s true,” Liam nodded. “I forgot about how he’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to Dee.”
“Or a golfer with a ten-foot putt,” Seamus added, smirking into his pint.
The pub erupted into a few scattered chuckles, and I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t hide the grin tugging at my lips. “Glad to know my love life is everyone’s favorite topic of conversation.”
Liam shrugged, lifting his pint in a mock toast. “Ballybeg’s a small place, Yank. If it’s not your love life, it’s Seamus’s snake—or worse, Geraldine’s dog.”
“Hey, leave Poppy out of this!” Geraldine called from her table, glaring daggers at Liam.
I shook my head, exhaling a laugh as Ronan clapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, mate. She’ll come around. Dee’s just?—”
“Stubborn,” I finished for him.
Ronan grinned. “Exactly. But that doesn’t mean she’s blind. She knows. Even if she won’t admit it yet.”
The people of Ballybeg believed in me, and that meant something. But Dee still had walls up higher than the Cliffs of Moher.
“So, what are you gonna do now, Yank?” Ronan asked, tilting his head.
I straightened, meeting his gaze. “What I always do! Play the long game.”
Ronan snorted, shaking his head. “Hope you’ve got stamina for it. Dee’s a marathon, not a sprint.”
“Good thing I’m a pro,” I shot back, grinning.
Laughter rippled through the pub, but it didn’t ease my heavy heart. Damn but this woman was work! And absolutely worth it.