come to find peace. And it’s hard-earned. You should announce yourself, or at the very least, make noise. Clear your throat. Something.”
He cleared his throat.
Smart ass. “But no. You asked me if Roisin Ryan was my sister. She is my sister.”
“She was little,” he said.
At least he had a brain and could keep up with the conversation. I was trying to think nice thoughts, I really was, because I could be too hard on people. Especially men. My Mam always told me I was too hard on them. She said that I had probably told my soul mate to go to hell at some point in my life. Seeing as he was too scared to disobey me, he probably did.
I nodded. “She was five. Car accident.”
“Your twin.”
This time I narrowed my eyes against his.
Droplets of water collected on his long black lashes, making his eyes seem fiercer. In the smoky cold, they seemed emerald, but when the sun hit them, I was willing to bet they’d be closer to chartreuse. The oddest color I’d ever seen, but honestly, the most beautiful. And even though he’d only spoken a few words, something about him oozed charm. The same charm I was willing to bet matched his grin.
It was hard to tell if he was trying to charm me or not, and what was even harder, was trying to explain the way he looked at me. He was studying me, but in a way that only seemed to bring up more questions. It was the oddest fucking thing I’d ever experienced. It took every ounce of my self-restraint not to pinch him, to make sure that one of the old ghosts around the cemetery hadn’t decided to talk to me.
Or maybe one of the statues. He carried the strength of one—a perfect, carved stone in a graveyard.
I would’ve called him a martyr, but he was far from it. He didn’t seem like the type of man to sacrifice himself for anything, even something he wanted. Because he probably always got what he wanted.
“I had a twin, too,” he said.
That brought me back to the present. To him. “Is he or she here?” I looked around, feeling foolish after I did, because it wasn’t like he was going to introduce me.
“He,” he said. “But nah. My old man is. He’s buried—” He turned a little, pointing in another direction. “Kelly’s the last name.”
“Ah,” I said, motioning to the bottle of whiskey and the glasses in his hand. “Come to have a drink?”
“You can say that. It’s been a while since the Old Man and I had a chat.”
“It’s cathartic sometimes.”
“Must be the same reason you come to see Roisin.”
For the first time in sixteen years, I felt a sense of warmth settle over me, and I shivered when it clashed with the cold. I’d never felt anything but chilled to the bone when I came here, but in that second, my blood heated, even if only for a second. I motioned to his hand again. “I might need a drink first before we get into that.”
He lifted the whiskey bottle, set the two glasses on Roisin’s tombstone, and poured a glass. He offered it to me, but I shook my head. “It doesn’t seem right,” I said. “She was only five.”
He gave a curt nod before he threw back the whiskey. His throat worked with the fire assuredly moving down his tongue. “I’ve always been the devil,” he said.
It took me a moment to make sense of his comment. “Your twin was the angel—”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s all good, though. The old man had the best of both worlds. He had two different sides to consider before he made final decisions.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That you lost your brother and your dad.”
“Life,” he said. “It’s the most unpredictable thing, but most still try to control it.”
“It’s a wild animal,” I said, and meant it. “Sometimes it’s better to let it run wild.”
“You let life run you?” It didn’t really seem like a question.
“No,” I said automatically. “I’m a fighter.”
“Knew it,” he said, and then the corner of his mouth turned up into a semblance of a smile. It was a grin that was as cocky as it was charming—a fucking winner that stole my breath.
“Unless it comes to death,” I said, refusing to stop the conversation because he had somehow gotten underneath my skin, like the cold, for a brief second. “How can you beat death when it holds all the cards?”