Chapter 2
TWO
brIGID
“Morning, everyone!”
Grumbles came from behind the front desk as I walked in through the front door of Pathways. I’d volunteered my free time at the rehab center for the past few months now and I couldn’t wait for my first appointment.
“Are those doughnuts?” the intake woman asked.
I sat them down in front of her. “Why yes, they are.”
Another woman rolled over in her chair and sniffed the air. “I smell coffee.”
I set the to-go carafe on the table. “Surprise!”
The women descended upon my offerings like vultures over a dead carcass, giving me just enough time to slip away. The front desk ladies that helped check people in and out would talk my ear off for an hour and make me late if I didn’t bring some sort of sacrifice to put in front of them instead.
But as they flocked to my distraction, I eased around the circular desk and made my way down the hallway toward Lori’s room.
“Please tell me that my girl’s around the corner.”
I peeked my head into her room. “Morning, Lori.”
She smiled brightly at me. “I was hoping you’d be the one coming around today. You weren’t here yesterday.”
I sighed. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry for that.”
She stood to her feet from her bed. “Are you all right? They said you weren’t feeling well.”
I walked up to her. “Can you keep a secret?”
She grinned. “You had a man over and you didn’t want to leave. How close am I?”
I winked at her. “Let’s get you your medication. Tell me how you slept last night.”
She giggled like a little schoolgirl as she followed me out of her bedroom.
She poked and prodded for all sorts of details, but I wasn’t the kind of girl to kiss and tell.
Instead, I listened to Lori rattle on about her nightmares and how her panic attacks were coming back, so I adjusted the dosages of her medicines, signed off on all of the paperwork, then took her to breakfast in the cafeteria.
Her medicine—also known as her strict vitamin regimen—always went down better if we mixed it up with something.
“There you go,” I said as I slid the pudding in front of her. “I also put some graham cracker topping all over it.”
She smiled. “You’re way too good to me, you know that?”
I waved my hand at her. “No need to be so dramatic. I’m just trying to help.”
I liked Lori. In fact, I’d probably go so far as to say that I loved her.
She understood me in a way no one else did, and I swear it felt like she read my mind sometimes.
We had a lot in common, from the kind of life we both wanted to live to the kinds of men we had dated in the past. Both of us had been burned—her more so than me—but talking with someone who understood the kind of manipulation and narcissism we had both endured helped.
And I liked to think it helped her, too.
After my volunteer hours, I headed back to my aunt’s place.
While I had moved out about a month ago, I still had a few more things I needed to pick up before I was fully moved out.
I’d lived with her ever since I could remember, and while I hated it as a child, I had grown to call her place home over the years.
My aunt helped me feel less abandoned by my own family.
She helped me to understand that the only reason I was sent to the states from Ireland in the first place was so that I could have a chance at a better life.
I still didn’t quite understand that since my father was loaded to the brim, but I’d learned to stop asking questions.
Sort of.
“Brigid, is that you?”
I heard my aunt’s voice and I smiled. “Hey! It’s me!”
She shuffled out of the kitchen. “I have your father on the phone. Wanna talk to him?”
I held my hand out. “Of course. When did he call?”
She shrugged as she passed off her phone to me. “Thirty minutes ago? He’s been yakking my ear off ever since I picked it up.”
To this day, her thick Irish accent made me smile. It reminded me of home. I held the phone to my ear as I walked into the living room, scooping up a sweater of mine that I had left behind.
And as I shoved it into my purse, my father’s thick accent soared through the phone.
“Hey, Daddy,” I singsonged.
He chuckled. “Ah, a leanbh. Your laughter is music to my ears.”
“There it is,” I whispered.
“What?”
I clicked my tongue. “Nothing. Just finally found a hair clip I’ve been looking for.”
“You’ve always been so disorganized. Are you sure it’s smart to move out of your Aunt Claire’s house?”
I rolled my eyes. “Ever the protective one.”
“Bah, every time I talk to you, you sound more American. Why, a leanbh?”
“Maybe because my father shipped me off when I was a child and won’t let me come home?”
“Are you done with your degree?”
I sighed. “Almost.”
“Then, you’re almost home.”
I flopped into a chair next to the fireplace. “So, what’s the news? Why were you calling Auntie Claire?”
I heard his grin through the phone. “I’m coming to the U.S. to meet with some new business associates.”
I nodded slowly. “Ah.”
The “family business.”
Or, in other words, more shit to do with the Irish mafia.
I knew exactly what my father did with his life.
I knew from a very young age what he was involved in and exactly how important he was in the underground world.
The only reason why I didn’t fight him on it every time we talked was because he used a great deal of his blood money to fund a wonderful program that helped the downtrodden without any questions asked.
That was why I’d been going to school all of these years to get a double degree in Business and Finance.
Because once I graduated, I was set to run that program.
“So, does that mean I’ll get to see you while you’re here?” I asked.
Dad paused. “No questions?”
I blinked. “Why would I have any questions?”
“No beratement on how your brothers are involved, but you aren’t?”
I giggled. “I can argue if you’d like.”
“No, no, no. It’s a refreshing pace from our usual conversations.”
My voice fell flat. “Oh. Thanks.”
He barked with laughter. “You’ve got that fire in your belly, just like your mother.”
A soft smile crossed my lips. “You know how badly I want to be involved since my brothers are also involved, but I’m at peace with heading up your program once I graduate. So, I feel no need to fight.”
“I never thought I’d see the day, a leanbh.”
I snickered. “Don’t get too used to it because you know I’ll be riding your ass once I get home.”
“Anyway, to answer your question about seeing you.”
I burst out laughing, which made him laugh, and it took us a while—and a glare from my aunt—before we both settled down.
Dad cleared his throat. “If I end up in California, which I honestly might, I’ll make it a point to come see you.”
I sighed. “Can I at least know where you’re going? The stops you’re making?”
“No.”
“Can I know where you’ll be sleeping?”
“No.”
I stood to my feet. “Is there anything you can trust me with that you trust my brothers with?”
He groaned. “I don’t want you getting hurt. You know this.”
I threw my free hand into the air. “How can I get hurt by simply knowing where you’ll be sleeping? I don’t even get to know my own father’s okay while he’s here?”
“What gives you the impression I won’t be okay while I’m there?”
I clenched my jaw to keep from fighting with him. “I know you don’t want me caught in the crossfire, but all I’m asking is—”
“That’s enough.”
I closed my eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, I have to go. I have a meeting to attend. I love you, and if I find myself in California, expect me to show up.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“And Brigid?”
I licked my lips. “Yes, Daddy?”
“Is breá liom tú.”
My heart warmed at his words. “I love you, too.”
After hanging up the phone with my father, I gave Aunt Claire’s house one last walk-through before I convinced myself that anything I’d left behind I’d simply have to repurchase.
I made sure to give her a hug and a kiss—along with the promise of lunch tomorrow at her place—before I left, then I hopped back into my car and headed to my new place.
And just as I walked in, my cell phone rang.
“This is Brigid.”
Maggie scoffed. “Girl, do you ever look at your phone when anyone calls?”
I sighed with relief as I flopped down onto my couch. “Ugh, you’re a voice for sore ears.”
She giggled. “Bad day?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Nah. Just…a lot.”
“Welllll…you wanna go grab a drink? Maybe some food? I’m starving, and I could use a stiff one, too.”
I grinned. “I think we could all use a stiff one.”
“All the more reason to come out with me tonight. Come on, it’s Friday. We always do something fun on Fridays.”
I looked down at my sweatpants and tank top. “I don’t know…”
“Come on, don’t be a damn party pooper. Come make some memories.”
And before I could answer her, there was a knock at my door.
“Hold on, someone’s here,” I said.
“Girl, don’t you keep me waiting for long,” she said.
I held my phone to my chest and crept toward the door.
Dad had taught me all sorts of ways to protect myself, and one of those ways was to silence my footsteps.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, and Maggie rarely ever knocked.
Plus, she always announced herself before she came over.
I racked my brain as to who was standing on the other side of my door as I stood on my tiptoes and peered through the peephole.
Before I unlocked my door and threw it open.
“Really, Maggie?”
She cackled as she hung up the phone. “I see why you were hesitant now. Did you stay braless all day?”
I looked down at my puckered titties. “Hey, I earned the comfy ensemble today.”
She brushed past me. “‘Come on, party pooper. One drink and a meal is all we’ll do tonight.”
“So, does that mean I can just throw on a hoodie?”
She peered over her shoulder at me with a blank stare. “No. Get into some nice clothes. I’m not going to dinner in this when you look like that.”
I slid my eyes down her outfit. She was in a form fitting floral dress that landed right at her knees. “It’s a pretty cute outfit.”
She held her arms out. “Exactly! And with that red hair of yours, those green eyes, and all those curves in all the right places? Come on. That body deserves more than sweatpants and a tank top.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. “Fine. But you’re helping me get dressed.”
She clapped with joy as she followed behind me to my bedroom. “I love going through your closet anyway, so here’s to hoping you have some new outfits.”
And as a smile crossed my face, I threw open the door to the one aspect of this place that sold me on the entire fucking apartment. So much so, that it was the first thing I unpacked and set up.
The walk-in closet.
“You know me too well, Maggie.”
Which was the one and only rule of my father’s that I had broken.
Because my best friend really did know me all too well.