forced himself to get off the couch. He’d napped for a few hours, his body completely confused about what time zone he was in, and he still wasn’t sure whether the short sleep had made him feel better or worse. All he did know was that it felt like there was a small creature repeatedly slamming a pickax into the back of his eyeball.
Thank God he had a full week before classes started. He’d need it to shake the jet lag.
After downing a few painkillers with a glass of water, he showered and headed out into the balmy evening to meet his family for dinner. The walk to the restaurant took a good half an hour, but the air cleared his head, and by the time he made it to the bar and grill—which, thankfully, didn’t have a stupid puntastic name—he was feeling more than ready for a family reunion.
When he arrived, he found his sister helping his grandmother out of her car. The visual struck him deep in the chest. Grandma Orna had always been a fearsome presence in his life—she was a gnarled root of a woman, hardened and impossible to bend. But with that stubbornness came a strength Ronan rarely found in others and a resilience that could only be admired. The last six years hadn’t been kind. Her body stooped more than it did before, and her hand curled fiercely around the top of her cane. Her snow-white hair was still neatly coiffed, however, and she wore her signature slash of magenta lipstick.
“Don’t stand there, Ronan,” she barked in her Irish accent, which was still as thick as the day she’d stepped off the boat. “Come help your sister.”
Keira looked up, her face blossoming into a huge smile. She was still in her work outfit: a tailored navy pencil skirt, a white blouse, and heels that couldn’t have been comfortable for the hour-long drive they’d made from Boston. She must have gone straight from the office to Gram’s house.
“Here, let me get that.” Ronan reached for the large tote bag dangling from Keira’s arm and offered his free hand to his grandmother. “It’s good to see you both.”
He bent down to give the older woman a hug, and she felt smaller than ever. How had six years changed her so much? Would they have to start measuring her height in the doorway, like she used to do when they were kids, so he could tell if she was actually shrinking or if it was simply his worries dwarfing her?
“Would have been better if you hadn’t gone to that miserable part of the world,” she muttered, patting an arthritic hand on his back. “But I’m glad you’re home.”
Keira shot Ronan a look over their grandmother’s shoulder and rolled her eyes. “I see we’re going to continue with today’s theme of deeply ingrained Catholic guilt.”
Ronan snorted. “I expect no less.”
Orna narrowed her eyes at him and stepped out of his embrace. “I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”
It might sound harsh, but Orna had plenty of reason to detest the idea of her grandson going anywhere near Ireland. To her, it was a place full of betrayal and bad memories. She’d immigrated to the U.S. at nineteen, pregnant, claiming she was going to stay with relatives—although it was a lie—and she’d lived in a small, dirty house crammed with other young women who’d been cast aside for various indiscretions. And from nothing, she had forged a life.
“Where’s Mom?” Ronan asked. “Is she heading over on her own?”
Keira’s expression was all the answer he needed. “She’s in the middle of a big project…”
Six years, he’d been away. Six fucking years without his mother returning his calls or texts for weeks at a time. Six years of her likely being happy that she didn’t have to worry about him bugging her for some semblance of a relationship. He should have known she wouldn’t show.
This is it. You’re officially done.
“You don’t need her,” Orna replied in a clipped tone. “Come on. I’m hungry.”
His grandmother would never coddle him—that wasn’t in her character—but he knew that she didn’t support the complete disinterest Merrin Walsh took in her children’s lives. She hadn’t even shown up at the hospital when Keira had given birth to her little boy, Lukas.
So why would she turn up for a dinner to welcome her son home?
“How’re Lukas and Andy?” Ronan asked as they walked into the restaurant and got seated at a booth.