29. Finn
TWENTY-NINE
Finn
PAST
Many people believe Blarney Castle is a waste of time, and I tend to agree if your sole purpose is to kiss the stone.
If you want the bragging rights, then by all means, go for it. Kiss that stone. But be ready to wait. I’ve been told by many of my American guests that the line to do so rivals something right out of Disney World.
Today, in mid-May and close to summer, the estimated wait is close to two hours. When I come back with groups in June and July, it might be closer to three or even longer.
Whether or not you decide to kiss the stone, a visit to the castle and grounds is worth the ticket price. The castle itself is stunning—a true testament to Irish history—and the gardens, with ruins dating back to the Druids, are just straight-up magical.
I can’t wait to take Ash there.
After I distributed all the entry tickets to the group, I made plans to meet up with Ash in an hour. She’s going to grab a quick lunch with her mom, and then they are going to spend some time together walking the castle grounds. When she asks her mom if she minds being left behind, the smile that spreads across her face…
She doesn’t mind. Not in the slightest.
Since I’ve been to Blarney more times than I can count, I grab a sandwich and spend some time with a few other guests so I don’t seem to be neglecting my duties and head out to our meeting spot early. I congratulate myself on the back for this decision a while later; I look up from my phone and get to witness Ash walking down the path.
It’s a sunny spring day, and it’s warm enough to leave coats behind.
And thank God for that.
The jeans she’s wearing hug her curves just enough to make me feel uncomfortable in mine. The cropped sapphire sweater she has on almost reaches them, but not quite, leaving a tiny sliver of skin exposed.
I want to lick that skin.
The moment she sees me, her eyes light up, and she smiles. My insides instantly turn to mush. I am so gone for this girl, and she doesn’t even know it.
Maybe it’s time to change that.
“Did you have fun with your mam?” I ask as she approaches me.
“Yeah.” She beams. “The castle is really beautiful. I think I took at least a hundred photos.”
“Only a hundred?” I tease. We continue down the trail, and I notice the map in her hand. I snatch it, and she lets out a yelp, which causes me to laugh. “You don’t need this. You have me.”
“But what if we get lost?”
I gape at her. “You wound me, darlin’. I know these gardens like the back of my hand.
“All right.” She grins. “Lead the way, tour guide.”
* * *
“Finn?”
“Yes, Ash?”
“I need you to be honest with me about something.” Ancient trees surround us. Birds fly above us as the sound of rushing water echoes in the distance. It’s breathtaking.
“What’s that?” I ask her.
She looks up at me, a teasing smile dancing on her full pink lips. “We’re lost, aren’t we?”
“No,” I lie. “What makes you think that?”
She takes a step closer—so close that I can almost feel the heat radiating off her. So close that I’m dying to reach out and curl my fingers around the bare skin at her waist. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that tree”—she points to the giant yew trees behind me, with their gnarly branches that look like something out of a Grimm fairy tale—“at least three times now.”
“Are you sure it’s the same tree? Because it could just be similar. There are a lot of trees around?—”
“Are you gaslighting me, Finn Larkin?” She crosses her arms over her chest and stares up at me, trying to smile now.
I lick my lips and grin. “Okay, yes. We may be a little lost.”
“I thought you knew this place like the back of your hand?” The way she’s holding back her laughter at me is impressive.
“I do, but you’re a bit of a distraction.”
Her breath catches at my sudden moment of honesty. She gazes up at me and then?—
Someone steps onto the path behind us. The sound of their rustling feet nearly startles Ash, causing her to take a step back, her eyes blinking as if awakening from a trance.
“Should we check the map?” I ask.
“No.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “Where’s the fun in that? Come on.” To my surprise, she takes my hand, and we head down the path in the opposite direction from which we came. The gardens are unexpectedly empty today. They tend to be somewhat sparse on a usual day compared to the rest of the grounds—like a hidden gem just waiting to be discovered.
As we stroll down the path, the scenery begins to feel a bit more familiar, and I suddenly have an idea.
* * *
The gardens are large, and it takes a while to get to where I want to go, but neither of us mind the walk.
Least of all Ash.
Aside from that, one day in Galway, I didn’t see her struggling to walk or seeming to be in pain. She made it clear that she’s usually proactive about managing her pain, so I don’t ask.
I don’t want to be one of those people in her life who coddle her.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” she exclaims, pulling out her camera again. “When you said we were going to walk the gardens, I thought we were just going to look at some plants. Why didn’t you tell me there would be freaking monoliths and ancient stone carvings? Finn, this stuff is like porn for me!”
I choke out a laugh. “Porn, huh?”
She motions and says, “Do you see how massive that stone is? Like how did they get it here? And why? It’s fascinating!”
“Massive?” I reply with a smirk.
“Are you just going to keep repeating everything I say, or are you going to stand next to the pretty rock and smile?”
I do as the woman commands, letting her take a photo of me next to the massive stone, which is actually called a dolmen, but I keep that fact to myself. I then pull out my phone, and we snap one of her and one of us together.
“You really love history,” I say as we keep moving forward.
“I do, yeah,” she replies. “Being here really makes me sad I didn’t continue on to get my advanced degree as I had intended.”
“There’s always time.”
“Yeah.” She nods. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it until now. I’ve been so focused on being angry and miserable that I haven’t even stopped to consider what I want to do with my life. If I had, maybe I would have realized what a huge favor Theo actually did for me.”
“You’re glad he cheated on you?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I mean, no one wants that. But, in the end, it gave me the clarity to see our relationship for what it was. I wasn’t happy. We should have broken up years ago. Maybe we shouldn’t have been together at all. But the bottom line is we were wrong for each other, and I’m glad I realized that before I packed up my entire life and moved across the globe for a man who didn’t put me first.”
“Seems like it’s a good time to focus on putting yourself first. You’ve got nothing but options now.”
“That sounds exciting and overwhelming at the same time,” she says, exhaling deeply.
“Personally, I think you should just skip going back to university and join Riverdance.”
She snorts out a laugh. “Of course you do. Wait, do they still have that?”
“Hell, yes. They’ll be milking that money cow for years to come.”
“Well, as enticing as that sounds, I think I’ll pass. But I did kind of love being back up there. It felt exhilarating.” She pauses. “Is that how it feels for you when you play rugby?”
No, that’s what it’s like when I look at you…
“Used to be,” I say instead. “But I haven’t played in a while. Not seriously. A few of my mates and I try to get together and play on the weekends, but it’s just not the same.”
“What was it like going to college at Trinity? It’s probably the American in me, but I envision something eerily similar to Hogwarts.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that—American or otherwise.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” She wipes her forehead in an exaggerated gesture, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“It does look a bit Harry Potter -like, but there isn’t anything particularly magical about it. It is beautiful and old. Terribly drafty, though. I had to carry an extra jumper in my bag for years.”
“And what was Finn Larkin like in college? Would we have been friends?”
“Probably not,” I answer honestly. “I was kind of an arse.”
“An ass?” she says, imitating my accent, which makes me laugh. “Really? You’re only what, twenty-four? Twenty-five? How much different could you have been?”
“Twenty-five,” I reply. “And you might be surprised. I was a spoiled, self-centered brat during uni.” And for every year before that. “Everything came easily to me. I took nothing seriously, and the only thing I really cared about was rugby.”
“So, what changed?”
“My father wanted me to work for him. I—” I swallow a ball of nervousness, unable to reveal the truth to her. Sure, I promised my da I wouldn’t share the sordid details of my forced exile, but I know that’s not the only reason I’m withholding my real name—my full name.
I’m ashamed.
Ashamed of how I handled myself and how I lived my life with such reckless abandon that my own father walked away from me.
“I didn’t want to work for him, so I decided to do my own thing, and that’s how I ended up here. And then I guess I just grew the fuck up.”
“Good for you for knowing what you wanted—or at least what you didn’t want. That takes guts.”
If she only knew.
“Rock!” Her hand shoots out, and I turn to see where she’s pointing.
“Oh, good. We’re here.”
“Where is here?”
“The Witch’s Stone.”
“Shut up! Are you serious?” Then she grabs my hand and pulls me the rest of the way. The excitement in her voice makes me feel like a fucking king.
Usually, this is one of the busier spots in the gardens—because who doesn’t love witches—but thankfully, we’re the only ones here right now. I offer a brief word of thanks to the witches or Druids or whoever the fuck lingers in these woods, because all I want is some alone time alone with this girl.
“Okay, what’s the story, Tour Guide?”
She thinks she’s taunting me, but strangely enough, hearing her call me that kind of turns me on. “Well, there was this witch—” I motion to the boulder. We’re standing in front of the sign, and from this angle, it’s about five feet tall and maybe three feet wide. The smooth surface on top is adorned with coins from dozens of countries and even a few trinkets and treasures. “They call her the Witch of Blarney.”
“Blarney, you say?” she teases. “Original. What else?
“Legend has it that she has been around since the dawn of time and was the one who informed MacCarthy about the power of the Blarney Stone.”
“That’s one old witch. All right, continue.”
I can’t help but grin as it tugs at my lips. She’s so feisty today. “At some points, she was captured and put into the stone.”
“In the stone? How does that even happen?
“How the hell do I know? Magic?”
“Okay, so she’s inside the stone. Like her spirit? Her ghost? Or her whole damn body?”
“Her soul, maybe? Who knows.” I shrug because, honestly, the entire story sounds made up to me, and I’ll show her why in just a second.
“So, why the coins? Do I get to make a wish?”
“You will, but not here,” I say. This is the only stop I have planned. “The coins are meant to keep her tethered to the stone during the day.”
“Just during the day? Wait, does that mean she can get out?” She takes a step back but ends up slamming into me instead.
I let out a deep, rumbling laugh as my hand wraps around her waist to steady her.
“Are you planning to stay past closing?” My mouth is just inches from her ear. She shivers.
“No.”
“Then I think you’re safe,” I tell her, before adding, “The legend says she only appears at night. I believe it’s all just superstition anyway.”
“Yeah?”
I guide her to a few to the left, my fingers grazing that bare skin at her midriff. I nearly groan. It takes her a minute to register why I’ve changed our position. Maybe she’s distracted by the sensation of my hands. I know I sure as hell am.
“Oh my god!” she says, finally taking in the scene before her. “The damn rock looks like a witch!”
From this angle, the boulder’s shape looks like that of an old woman with a long, pointed nose and a dark, hollow eye.
“You know just as well as I do that back when people didn’t have the knowledge to explain the world around them, they relied on superstition and lore to fill that gap.” I shrug. “The rock looks like a witch. It must be one, or at least cursed with one inside it. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. Or at least it would be for them.”
“I love it when you talk history to me.”
“Yeah? Well, in that case, I’ve got more.”
She turns to face me.“What are we still doing here, then? Let’s go.”
I motion toward the stone and pull a shilling from my pocket. “Okay, but first, you need to pay up, darlin’.”