The pressure in my balls had grown into a storm, and at the exact moment she let go, so did I. We exploded into each other, shakin’ and shiverin’, gruntin’ and screamin’.
Her head fell to my chest, and her soft breath breezed across my skin, like a tepid wind over the lough. I set my hand on her back, gently movin’ my fingers up and down the nubs of her vertebra. She shivered and lifted her head some. Our eyes met before she closed hers and kissed me on the lips.
The night grew silent as my heart beat slower and my breaths came easier. She tucked her head underneath my chin and sighed.
“You know how Dermot Craig was going to force me to marry him?”
I held her tighter, and she made a strangled noise. She wiggled some, to let me know I was probably puttin’ too much strain on her ribs, and I released her some.
“Pauric told us the night he came to the house in Boston.” My voice was shredded and cold. Not at her, but at the thought of the devil’s son havin’ my wife. “You didn’t want him in return, seein’ as your Da came lookin’ for me for help.”
She shook her head, the small tendrils of her hair ticklin’ my nose. “Marriage to Dermot Craig felt like a death sentence.” Our eyes met in the glowin’ darkness.
“We were forced to have dinner at Oran’s house the same night he went looking for you. Oran told me to start planning the wedding—it was going to happen the next week. I was uncomfortable. Didn’t want to be there. I just wanted to leave, but it felt like the evening was timeless in an endless way. Then…”
She took a breath. “One of Oran’s men interrupted dinner. He said,Cillian, now known as Cian, O'Callaghan is trying to buy guns in Boston, and…the dinner was over. My misery was over, for the time being. I guess what I’m trying to say is…Even before I knew you, you saved me, Cian.”
She grew quiet for a minute or two. Then she reached up and set her palm against my neck, over my pulse.
“Even though our marriage isn’t conventional, if I knew you under different circumstances, I would have picked you. You’re mine.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words were stuck in my throat. I had to clear it to set them free. “I was there with you, Maeve O'Callaghan. I’ll always be with you. You’re mine.”
“We belong to each other,” she whispered.
“What’s mine is yours.”
“And what’s mine is yours.” She took my hand and entwined our fingers together. “Not just materialistic things either. I’m talking everything. What happens to you happens to me. Yesterday. This second. Tomorrow.”
She didn’t make a sound when I sat us up and went to the closet, setting her on her feet. I dug in the closet for something for her to wear. I found a white silk slip and pulled it over her head and arms. I grabbed a blood-red cloak with fur trimming. It was warm outside, but she might get chilled if it was windy. I dug in the other closet, where all my things had been brought. I slipped a T-shirt over my head and stepped into a pair of sweats.
I picked her up and carried her downstairs. I stuffed my feet into a pair of boots, not bothering with the ties, and started for the hill.
* * *
Whenever we wentfor walks around the castle, Maeve would keep her attention on the property and me equally, but the entire walk up the hill, her eyes were on my face. She was probably wonderin’ where I was takin’ her.
Maybe she had an idea. Maybe she didn’t.
She kept quiet, though, as we climbed higher and higher, the full silver moon our light. The wind grew stronger with the elevation. The fur on the coat rippled, and her hair slipped free and waved around the hood. When I started to slow, I felt the weight of her stare move away from me and forward.
The stones were still stacked as they were, but Keenan and I had stacked them even higher, creatin’ a fence around the crosses. There were three, two full size and one a lot smaller, names and a shared date engraved.
Conor O'Callaghan
Mona O'Callaghan
Baby O'Callaghan
Instead of climbin’ over with Maeve in my arms, I set her down on the other side, then used my hands and hopped over. My feet were silent as always, as silent as the thing inside of my chest had become. Enterin’ this space was a reminder of who I would never be.
A man conquerin’ normal goals and dreams. A man who had a normal past that shaped a normal future.
I was a dead kid who walked around with a beast-sized vendetta. My future was shaped by a past that had killed me.
Maeve’s feet were bare, and her footsteps were quiet in the waverin’ grass as she moved toward the three crosses buried in the ground. Close enough, her eyes narrowed, maybe tryin’ to read the names and date in the darkness. Even though the moon was bright, it was still hard to see.
I saw the tears, though, when they slipped down her cheeks. They glinted in the moonlight like diamonds. She bent down and picked wildflowers that grew around the stone markers. She placed them in front of Da, Mam, and the baby. The only one who ever did the same was Fiona. She’d come up and visit sometimes. She’d give them flowers, and I’d see her mouth movin’. She talked to them.
