What else were brothers for?
—————
Callum’s eyesnarrowed as he took me in. “What’s happened now?”
“What?” I exclaimed. “I haven’t said a word yet.”
His mouth tightened before he looked down at the bar, spraying it with anti-bac solution and wiping it over with a clean cloth. “You don’t need to. The angst is comin’ off you in fuckin’ waves. I swear, I can smell it and it ain’t pretty.”
I barked a laugh. “That’s a new one.”
His eyes lifted to meet mine again. “Is Imogen okay?”
“She’s perfect, except that Wilder Stone decided to claim her today. When we left Cash’s cookout, he was guarding his bedroom door, hissing at anyone who came close because my girl was holed up in there, tired, and he decided she needed her beauty sleep.”
His eyebrows hit his hairline. “Wait. How old is the kid? Four? Five?”
My insides curled up tight. “Five.”
His hand released the cloth, and it landed on the counter. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” I deadpanned. “Witnessing it was a revelation for this first-time dad to a beautiful baby girl. Thought my brain was gonna implode.”
He turned toward the fridges and grabbed a handful of beers from one before popping off the tops. “Here, guys,” he called out to Karma, who was with a group of younger Speed Demons, sitting at the table in front of the huge TV on the wall, waiting for the game to come on. “Next ones are lined up for ya.”
I grabbed the bottles by the neck and took them over to the table, nodding at the mutters of thanks before heading back to Callum.
“You look tired,” I stated. “Why are you working anyway? You just got back from your honeymoon an hour ago.”
“Maeve’s sleeping, and I’m still on Irish time,” he explained, going back to the fridge and grabbing two more beers. “Adam deserved a night off after holding the fort for so long, and it’s quiet tonight apart from the football crowd, so I thought I’d work the bar. I missed the place.” He popped the tops and handed me a bottle. “Any problems?”
I accepted it and waved a nonchalant hand. “Not with the bar, but life’s throwing dramas at me left and right.”
He gulped down a mouthful of beer, his eyes never leaving mine, before ordering, “Shoot.”
I picked at the label on the bottle. “Rosie’s mad at me and says she wants to end it. Reckons I’m keeping her at arm’s length.”
“Are you?” he asked.
I heaved out a breath, took a swig of beer, and then admitted, “Probably.”
“Typical of you,” he muttered. “You’re a one-man band.”
“No, I’m not,” I argued.
“Right,” he drawled sarcastically.
“I admit I’m not exactly forthcoming with my feelings,” I acquiesced. “But it’s how I’ve always been. You remember what Da was like. We couldn’t show weakness. I get it seems like I’m closed off, but I don’t know how to be any other way.”
“Then you’ll lose her,” Callum stated.
I tipped my head back and muttered, “Fuck.”
“How do you feel about that?” he asked.
“Sick,” I admitted. “The thought of Rosie not being mine makes me wanna puke.”
He nodded because he got it. He came close to losing his woman not long ago, too. The O’Shea boys had a knack for fucking up.
