what I had, and it was fucking lethal. Sugar-laced poison that could lure me in and seize my heart.
I schooled myself in any way I could. I lifted weights until my muscles ached and sweat dripped from my body. I ran at the gym until my lungs threatened to burst. I threw myself into my work, leading my brothers of the Clan. I earned my reputation as a natural leader, but they don’t know the truth. They don’t know that I was trying to occupy my mind so I wouldn’t fall for her. They didn’t know I did exactly what I was taught by my mentor and teacher, Malachy, at school. I pushed my body into hard labor to punish myself for the sins of my flesh I had yet to commit.
I never did anything. I never acted out on my longing for her. I never flirted, or even mentally entertained any thought beyond protecting her. For that was my job and is to this day: to devote my life to the safety and well-being of the Clan. Fiona’s one of us now. I threw myself into taking care of Fiona.
She had a guard like all of them did, especially when she fell under the protection and guardianship of Nolan and Sheena. But I was the one who oversaw her guards, who took them to task if they weren’t vigilant. I was the one who saw to her safety, her protection. I still am.
I kept what I did hidden from her, but I knew. I knew who her friends and allies were, and when she was bullied at school by an overbearing arsehole who tried to rough her up, I was the one that paid him a visit. My brothers held me back. We may be above the law, but I could have killed him. I roughed him up. I let him know who I was.
No one bullied her after that.
Tonight, when I saw her arrive with Tiernan, my heart longed to go to her. To gather her in my arms and wish her a happy birthday. To kiss her pouty lips and give thanks to the heavens she isn’t a child anymore but a woman.
But I held myself back. She’s still so young. She’s got a lifetime before her, and I won’t take that from her. In my heart, I know. If I pursued her, she’d let me.
I wish to God she wouldn’t. She deserves more than me. She deserves to follow her dreams and her heart.
Her childhood was stolen from her. I won’t steal any more of what’s hers.
“Lach.”
Boner and Tully sit at the bar when I enter The Craic. Here, the kinkier Irish find their home, in the seductive call of the private club nestled in the back. I jerk my head in greeting and join them at the bar, sliding onto a stool next to Boner. Tall and lanky, Boner’s the Clan’s Labrador retriever, and a cousin of mine. Hell, I don’t even remember his christened name. Malachy gave him the nickname Boner when he was at St. Albert’s, and true to form, Boner rolled with it.
“Another round, Rafferty,” Tully orders in his gruff voice. Much bigger than Boner, Tully dwarfs the barstool and takes up half the counter, and his long hair and beard have a mind of their own. Tully’s older than me by a full decade, but like all men of the Clan, he’s like a brother.
I take the pint Boner pushes over to me gratefully, lift it to my lips, and take a long, cleansing pull from the thick, frothy Guinness. I sigh in contentment when I plunk the pint back on the bar, half emptied.
“Christ, I needed that.”
“Y’alright, lad?” Boner asks, a twinkle in his eye. Short of death or tragedy, Boner’s the most jovial of the lot, always ready with a quick laugh, a sordid joke, or a cold pint.
“Alright,” I mutter. I’ve already said too much. I lift my pint and drain the rest. Silently, Tully lifts a finger to Rafferty and orders me another.
“Saw you at the birthday party,” Tully says, giving me a sidelong look. I don’t meet his eyes, but take the second pint from Rafferty and begin nursing it.
“’Twas an excellent party,” Boner says with uncharacteristic soberness. “The girls did it up right, didn’t they?”
“Aye.”
“You reckon she was surprised?” Tully asks.
I shrug. I don’t want to talk about Fiona.
“By what?” Boner asks. “The party, or her brooding hero?”