“I'm listening.”
“I’m told you know about aplastic anemia, and you’re renowned for the treatments you provide.”
“Aye,” he says hesitantly. “It’s my specialty.”
“Name your price.”
Another pause, longer this time. “This have anything to do with the Kavanagh girl?”
“Aye. And her sister is dying.”
“Ah.” I can hear the understanding in his voice. “I’ve got surgeries booked until… that’s a full month out, but let me see?—”
“We don’t have a month.”
He sighs. “Right. Alright, let me see. I can… I’ll have to cancel the trip with my wife. You’ll have to pay for the divorce, McCarthy.” He laughs dryly.
“I’ll pay for an all-inclusive, anywhere in the world.”
“I may take you up on that. Alright. I can come to Ballyhock next weekend.”
“That’s bloody brilliant. Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet. Sometimes things are too far gone, and even I can’t do anything to help. But I’ll do my best. In the meantime, have her on continuous transfusion support and keep her in isolation. No visitors except immediate family—her immune system can't fight off a cold right now, never mind something worse.”
“On it.”
I hang up and lean back in the chair, closing my eyes. The tribute deadline is in six days. I can’t pay before or after.
But when I think about Erin's face in the club, the way she looked when her mother called?—
There's no choice at all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Erin
When we walkin the room, Mam scowls at Cavin, and then at me. Turns out Cavin had a backup bag in the car with my signature uniform—yoga pants and an oversized jumper with “Cork City FC”on it. It’s Cavin’s.
“You’re a respectable member of the McCarthy family now,” my mother says. “Cavin, for Christ’s sake, you let her walk around likethat.”
Cavin draws himself up to his full height. “That's my wife you're talking about. She married me foryou lot, and she's beautiful in whatever she chooses to wear. Now, you'll bite your tongue about what she says and how she looks, or you'll find yourself not welcome in her presence. We clear on that?”
My mother stares, and her jaw drops a little bit.
“You wouldn’t dare?—”
“Try me,” he says, hard. “I know what you’re going through is difficult, Mrs. Kavanagh.” His nostrils flare, and his knuckles turn white with the fist he’s holding. “But you’ll not be taking out your temper on Erin, never again, ma’am. Do you understand?”
She purses her lips at him and stares. “Fine. Wear whatever you want. I’m getting a cup of coffee.”
“Go then,” he says. “Text me before you come back in the room, will you?”
“Excuse me?” She turns on her heel.
“I'm with Erin. And you wind her up,” he says. “Unless you learn to treat her properly, you'll be needing my say-so before you're allowed near her again.”
“I have never in my entire life—I’m calling your mother,” she says, pointing an irate finger at Cavin before she slams the door behind her.
