11. A Thousand Nights Without Her #3
“ Americans ,” she sighs, clearly leaning into the jest.
I tilt my head, watching her for a moment. “So, Callan mentioned you’d been away at school.”
Her smile softens at that, touched with something quieter.
“Aye,” she says, but doesn’t linger on it.
Instead, she shifts the conversation with practiced ease.
“That’s part of why I’ve not had the chance to meet Alex.
He moved here permanently a few months ago.
Works with my da, mostly, but he just bought the Sutherlands’ tavern—since they couldn’t pass it on to their son…
” That flicker in her eyes says more than her words ever could.
She still carries the blame. As if the sins of another are hers scars to bear.
“Triona, it wasna yer fault,” I say, more firmly than I mean to. “The things that boy did… what he was up to…”
“I know, it’s just… my mother hired Colina while I was away. Her father’s passed, and her mother has taken ill. So of course my mother’s trying to help where she can. ”
She pauses as if she’s warring with the truth of her words. “But you should see the way she looks at me, Finn. Like I’ve taken something from her and she’s just waiting for the right moment to say it.”
Her words make every protective instinct in my body come alive.
She plays with the loose ends of her hair as she continues. “It’s unsettling. I try not to let it get to me, but it does.”
“Triona, d’ye feel unsafe or—”
“No!” She shakes her head.
“No,” she says, much more evenly toned. “I didn’t mean to sound as if I felt that way. I know it likely saved Dealla.”
Why does she feel the need to reassure me she feels safe? Why does it feel as if she’s apologising for voicing her concerns?
“Tri,” I start, running my hand through my hair again, “if something’s off with her, you need to trust yer gut. I’ve seen what people can do when they’re pushed into corners.” My voice is soft but firm.
She attempts to maintain calm by brushing it off, but she can’t fool me. Her downplayed tone, the casual dismissal—it all feels too familiar, as if she’s trying to convince both of us that there’s nothing to worry about.
But I know that look in her eyes. I’ve worn it myself.
Her unease plants a seed of suspicion deep in my gut—one that takes root fast. And now, the knot in my stomach refuses to loosen.
Before I can speak again, the moment shifts.
A familiar voice cuts through the air, full of swagger and poorly concealed amusement.
“Talking about me, are you?”
Bran saunters up, all effortless confidence and too-perfect charm, flashing the kind of grin I’ve seen disarm more than a few hearts—and test the patience of even more.
Triona glances at him, immediately clocking his energy. She appears unimpressed as she waits for introductions.
“You are quite divine.” Bran announces, voice dripping with charm.
Before I can tell him to behave like a functioning adult, Triona crosses her arms and cuts in with a dry tone. “I’m not buying whatever it is you’re selling.”
Bran chortles, feigning surprise. “These are premium goods, beautiful,” he says as he gestures to his frame .
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Something about her response pleases me more than I care to admit. A warm satisfaction settles deep in my chest at seeing her brush off his usual swagger with such ease. I bite back the smirk threatening to break free, but it’s a losing battle.
Bran, ever unbothered, chuckles and throws me a look. “Oh, she’s immune, Finn. I see. A tough crowd.”
Triona is clearly holding her own—living up to the strong-willed woman he expected her to be.
“This bugger right here is Bran.” I say, even if the statement is pointless.
She extends her hand hesitantly, unsure of his intentions. When Bran leans in to kiss it, I swat him away before he can land it.
“Oi!” he yelps, rubbing his knuckles. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”
Triona crosses her arms, though her grin remains in place. “Finn was right to warn me about you. You are trouble.”
“You’ll give in, eventually. They all do.”
She raises an eyebrow, still grinning. “You sound awfully confident for someone who just faced rejection.”
Bran smirks. “Confidence is key, love. And you haven’t rejected me yet—you’re just playing hard to get.”
Triona scoffs, crossing her arms tighter. “Oh, is that what this is?”
Still watching the back-and-forth with mounting amusement, I step a little closer to Triona, feeling that familiar protective tug. “Bran, ye’re gonna run out of charm if you keep chuckin’ it around like that.”
He chuckles, unabashed. “Not a chance. I’ve an endless supply.”
Triona shakes her head, rolling her eyes but still smiling. “Well, don’t waste it here. You’re chasing shadows, Brannie .”
Bran’s eyes sparkle. “See? You’ve already given me a nickname. Progress.” He leans in a fraction too close. “I’ll wait for you to come around to me properly—I pride myself on being a patient man.”
With one last wink and a devilish smile tossed my way, he backs off, hands raised like a saint. “I’ll leave you two to your fun. But remember, Triona—I’ll be around.”
“He really thinks he’s irresistible, doesn’t he?”
I grin, my heart lighter than it’s been in days. “He does. But you handled him admirably.”
She shoots a sideways glance my way, a spark of something playful in her eyes. “I’m willing to wager you enjoyed watching that.”
I shrug, though my smile gives me away. “More than I should have.”
She laughs again, soft and real, the last traces of tension between us completely diminished. “Him and Casey are going to get along famously.”
I light up with amusement. “I thought the same thing.”
As we stand here, the conversation flowing easily; I feel a sense of balance return, the easy camaraderie between us masking the deeper feelings I still can’t voice.
But for now, this—this ease, this warmth—is enough.