Nana Maeve would’ve been more creative, but I was rusty at the Irish cursing thing.
“At least you’re not as heavy now. I mean, it won’t help much, but every little bit helps.” Bethany crowed her delight in a sing-song. “Lord knows you don’t need anything making you look bigger.”
The door shut, cutting her off.
My chin came up, and I spun away from the salon, waiting until I was out of sight to toss my still wet hair from my shoulders. It slapped my back with a wetthwackbut maybe it would cover the damage until I made it to the apartment.
Tears burned hot and thick in my throat. I’d been made a fool of before, but not like this. This was the Clover Hill Mom warned me about, and honestly, if this was what I’d have to put up with, I understood why she wanted me to go.
If it wasn’t for Nana Maeve’s will about the renovations, I’d be tempted to take off tonight. Then again, I hated being the girl who ran away. They’d fooled me today, but it would never happen again. I kept my chin up and the tears at bay all the way from the salon to the corner of the pub. I wasn’t safe yet. Wouldn’t be safe until I walked into my apartment and closed the door. Just a few more steps. I could do it. I could walk across the pub and pretend like everything was okay.
Except the first time someone asked why I was walking around with wet hair, I’d fall apart. I sucked it up, all the pain and rage and grief, and stuffed it into a tiny box in the center of my heart, then I walked around to the back alley and snuck in through the storage room.
29
RONAN
Finn spun around on his bar stool, treating it like a kid’s toy top as whirled around and around. “The Gallaghers want to bring a keg for the patio opening party.” His face flashed past. “Free of charge. It was my idea, just so you know.”
Declan made a note on the inventory sheet without looking up. “Tell them yes before they change their minds.”
Finn somehow managed to pull out his phone while spinning and typed out a text I assumed he sent to Patrick Gallagher, one of his buddies at the fire house.
I almost shook my head at his antics, but why bother? Instead, I focused on the final details of the renovation that had consumed the better part of two months–not that I minded–-and was finally close enough to being finished that the euphoria of a job well done swam through me. I still needed to do a little touch up painting on the windows and finish the last section of shelving in the back room. Nothing major.
The outdoor lighting fixtures were scheduled to arrive today. Once I installed them, we’d be ready for the grand opening of the patio space.
“Heya, Declan, the guys in the back corner want more biscuits. I’m supposed to be switching to the lunch menu.” Benny propped his elbows on the metal counter in the kitchen and eyed us though the delivery window.
“If you have any leftover, they can have those. Otherwise, they need to come back tomorrow morning.” Declan set down his pen and rubbed his face as Benny grinned and tipped his imaginary chef hat. . He’d been doing that a lot lately.
Finn wound up tight. Declan looking exhausted and worried. I didn’t know what my face looked like, but I’d bet last year’s salary it was a combination of theirs. We all felt it, the tension coiling as bad luck rolled down the pipeline.
Maeve always believed in luck. Good and bad. She made sure we did too, which was why Finn knocked his knuckles on the bar three times every time he spun past.
I didn’t understand how he hadn’t fallen off the fucking stool by now.
The back door crashed open.
We turned at the same time as Bree flew through, her coat hanging off one shoulder and her chin ducked close to her chest. She rushed forward, her steps quick and deliberate, as she stormed toward the stairs, using the hallway connected to the back room and alley to avoid the main pub.
She climbed with a jagged step, skipping every other stair. Her apartment door slammed.
Finn leaped off the stool first, but Declan and I were already standing and joining him before he made it a single step. We rushed the stairs together. The pub went quiet behind us, the heavy weight of watchful eyes tracking our every move. We didn’t look back, didn’t try to come up with an excuse.
I reached the door first and twisted the knob. “Locked.” Why would she lock us out? “Bree? What’s wrong?”
“Go away.” The muffled order came out almost too low to hear.
Declan and Finn crowded in behind me. Finn knocked. “Bree, open the door.”
“No.” More muffled words followed, but her voice dropped out of range.
Finn took a step back. “Move, Ronan. I’ll break it down.”
“No.” I put a hand on his chest and pushed. “You break it down and Bree doesn’t have a door until I can buy and replace it.” I nudged him further back. “I’m a contractor, idiot. I know how to remove a door.” It would take me a little bit longer, but Bree would still have a door when I finished. I’d seen Finn break doors before. It wasn’t a pretty sight. I crouched and examined the handle assembly. “Go get my flathead screwdriver from my toolbox.” I frowned at the knob. “Better yet, bring me the whole toolbox.”
Five minutes later, the knob fell into my open palm and the door swung open.
