pub, wondering why they were watching the sun fight its way out of a foggy Irish morning from the building’s mullioned windows.
During the walk over, a brisk cold nipped at Sionn’s nose and cheeks, slapping them pink with a touch of a breeze coming off the nearby water. It was early—a bit too early for the kitchen—but Kane always seemed to know someone who knew someone, and the burly landlord greeted Kane with a fierce hug, welcoming them to find a place to sit.
Tired and a bit smelly from having Guinness splashed over him during Damie’s brawl, Sionn leaned on the dark wood table, resting his elbows against its heavy grained top. Scrubbing at his face with a brisk pass of his hands only seemed to make his eyes water, and he was grateful when Kane appeared at his elbow bearing a tray of heavy stoneware mugs filled with steaming hot coffee.
“There’s some cream and sugar on the tray, but I don’t know if it’s enough. You know how D likes to pretty much make his into a damned ice cream cone some mornings.” Kane settled down into the chair next to Sionn, giving himself a good view of the pub’s wide main room. “I put an order in for four full Irish with the kitchen. And an extra bowl of mushrooms for the Mick. You’re okay with no beans, right?”
“Totally fine. Extra tomatoes?” The coffee was strong enough to sear off his nostril hairs, and despite the night hanging on him, Sionn felt his blood begin to stir. “God, that’s good.”
“Lots of tomatoes. And D will give you his.” Kane nodded to where the other two men were standing in front of a vintage jukebox taking up most of one corner at the far end of the pub. “I told them they weren’t allowed to play anything. It’s too damned early in the morning for our ears to start bleeding. Volume’s probably set to be heard over a crowd.”
“Thanks for coming to get us. Good thing that cop Damie asked to drop you a call did us a solid or we’d have probably been in there until Monday. The one who dragged us in was an asshole.” He shook his head as the murmured argument over which song had the best bass line drifted over from the corner. “Swear to God in Heaven, I was worried one of them was going to crack if you didn’t get word of us.”
“It’s better now. Not like it was a few months ago. They can let each other out of their sight for more than a day.” Kane murmured a quick thank-you to the bleary-eyed server who swung by to drop off a basket of potato bread wedges on their table. Plucking one of the hot slices out of its nest, he waved it back and forth to cool off. “Miki wasn’t too bad. How was D?”
“Okay. Stressed for a bit once they closed the gate behind us, but I don’t know how much of that was worry over being locked up again or not being able to get word to you guys.” Sionn kept his voice down, not wanting the others to overhear him. “Not a great way to spend the night, but honestly, it was okay. They’re working through things. Damie’s still talking about getting a new band together, and I know Miki’s dragging his feet because he doesn’t want to get attached to anyone else.”
“He hates losing people. It digs down into him.” Kane chewed on a corner of the bread, watching the streets outside beginning to wake. Traffic was picking up, mostly delivery trucks working through Galway’s roads as carefully as possible after a cold night’s rain. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and they’ll find a couple of people for the twins to hook up with. That way, the whole band’s in tight with the family.”
“What? Not Con and Q?” Sionn snorted. “Okay, maybe not Quinn, ’cause he’s never aware when someone likes him, but Con? He deserves to be loved.”
“By a musician?” Kane scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t think so. Con needs someone stable and ready to fight for the home front. He’s married to his star, to the job.”
“You don’t think Con can find love like D and I have?” He glanced at his cousin, amused to find a surprised look on Kane’s face. “What? This thing with him and me? It’s not going to shake loose. One thing’s for sure, boyo, you and I are going