Chapter Eight
Eight
It was almost difficult to conjure up memories of his brother, or that date. They already felt so distant from this moment between us here and now. “Niall?”
“I was surprised he told you about his family,” Eamonn said. “I always assumed he didn’t talk much about us over there. He seems to want as little to do with Ireland as possible.”
“He did call it a rainy backwater shithole,” I admitted, and then immediately regretted it when I saw Eamonn’s smile, which looked a bit sad.
“Yeah,” he said. “That sounds like him.”
“What is it you…think he would’ve told me?”
Eamonn’s a waste. That was the only thing Niall had really said, with no context. But the way Eamonn had asked that question, it seemed clear that there was something specific he thought Niall might’ve mentioned, something that had some relevance to us now.
Eamonn was watching my face again, like he realized that whatever this was about, he was the one who’d brought it up. He could easily just say, Nothing, don’t worry about it, and I’d never know.
“About my record,” Eamonn said finally, and then when I looked confused, “My criminal record? I figured Niall might’ve told you about that, if he was talking about me.”
I got up so fast I felt a little dizzy, and Eamonn stood up, too, looking for a minute like he might reach out to steady me until thinking better of it. He took his keys out of his pocket, and when I didn’t speak he shifted them in his hand.
“I’m only sayin’ if that’s what’s got you hesitating, no worries. I understand. At least let me give you some money, and I can direct you to wherever you need to go.”
“Anywhere that’s open,” I pointed out.
His eyes crinkled at the corners even though his mouth barely tilted up. I didn’t know how he achieved that. “No more government buildings.”
Eamonn’s a waste. This admission from him did give some context to that declaration from Niall.
The fact that Eamonn figured it was the one thing his brother would’ve mentioned about him if he mentioned anything at all tweaked my heart a little.
So far Eamonn had been so much kinder to me than his brother ever had.
“Niall didn’t mention your record,” I said honestly. And it wasn’t a hang-up for me, per se. Lots of people had criminal records, and I wouldn’t have even known about his if he hadn’t confessed it. It wasn’t like this was a job application and he was required to check a box.
At the same time…it didn’t hurt to get a little more information. “Is it for anything violent?”
“No,” he said. Then, after a beat, “Not as such.”
Well, that wasn’t as encouraging as I’d hoped. “Drugs? Tax evasion? Or something heist-y? Did you rob the British Museum?”
“No,” he said, looking genuinely stricken even though I’d been keeping my tone light. His gaze lifted to mine, then dropped away again. “Nothing like that. It was a long time ago. Ten years ago.”
“Kidnapping? But like, where it was just you taking your stepsister across state lines to get her away from her abusive father?”
He blinked at me. Clearly he wasn’t as up on his Britney Spears filmography as he should be. “No.”
I got the impression that he really, really didn’t want to be having this conversation.
That it had been hard for him to even bring it up, that he might’ve never done it if he hadn’t thought his brother brought it up first. Even if it had been ten years ago, he didn’t seem in a place to joke about it, and I felt bad that I was letting my own nerves add to his discomfort.
“And I didn’t mug you,” he burst out. Those blue eyes were locked on mine now, like he needed me to hear this if nothing else. “I know that’s what the guy who mugged you would say, but I promise I didn’t.”
That had also never occurred to me, but of course I knew full well it couldn’t have been him unless he shared my apparent talent for teleportation.
“I believe you,” I said. I was still wearing his jacket, wrapped snugly around me.
I thought of the apple he’d handed me back at the bus stop.
It was on the tip of my tongue to just ask him outright, So what do you have a criminal record for, then?
but in the end I decided not to. He said it had been a long time ago.
And it turned out, I did trust him—not because of any connection to a person I’d met back home, not even because he’d given me food and helped me out, but because I just did.
If anything, he had far less reason to trust me, because I couldn’t answer any of his questions.
“Where did it happen?” he asked. “Where have you been staying?”
“Not that far from your shop,” I said, hoping that could count as an answer to both his questions, and that he wouldn’t have any follow-up ones.
From the way his brows drew together, he was definitely formulating a few, so I decided to change the subject.
“Before it happened, I hadn’t had the chance to actually go into Dublin and see any of it. ”
“You didn’t come through the airport?”
“Well, you know how it is,” I said. “Like, do you get to count that you’ve been to Dallas if you just had a connecting flight there? Do you get to say you’ve been to South Carolina if you drove through once?”
Technically, I hadn’t lied because technically, I hadn’t said I flew in through Dublin.
But that was the implication and I knew it.
It was difficult to answer his questions when something told me I woke up here in what might be a dream or a mental health crisis or an international event, I’m not entirely sure wouldn’t go over super well.
“So maybe you could show me around a bit today?” I’d said it more to move the conversation along, to get us away from any discussion of how I’d gotten here, but it wasn’t a bad idea. “Nothing that costs money or that you’d have to book tickets for way in advance. Just like…I don’t know. Dublin.”
Eamonn looked up toward the sky, like he had to really think about that one. “What had you been planning to do? The big tourist spots?”
I shrugged. “I figured I’d go wherever my day took me. I’m a very spontaneous person.”
Now he glanced back at me. “I can see that,” he said, and the way he said it, it was like he could literally see it, like there was something about my appearance that screamed out impulsive.
Which was hilarious, because if he only knew how far that was from me in my usual life.
I was the kind of person who brought the same sad little prepackaged charcuterie to work for lunch every single day.
But the way he looked at me, it made me feel like this other side of me was within my grasp, like I could be a more free-spirited version of myself here in this strange country, with this man who was a stranger.
It seemed like he was going to say something else, but then he just gestured toward the road. “I have to move the car anyway, so I’ll try to get us a little closer. It’ll still be a walk into the city center.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. It was amazing how much nicer the day seemed suddenly, now that I had a jacket and someone to talk to.
But he lifted his eyebrows, shoving his hands back in his pockets as he started to head in the direction he’d come from, waiting for me to fall in step beside him. “That’s your first Dublin lesson, then,” he said. “It’s good to not be afraid of some walking.”