Ronan leaned against a streetlight, cigarette in hand. “Welcome to Ballybeg.”
Jax was right; itwascold, the kind that crept into your bones and made itself at home. Usually, this time of year, I’d have a bit of a spring in my step—even if the weather hadn’t turned—because St. Paddy’s was around the corner. And at The Banshee’s Rest, we always made a grand thing of it. But this year, I didn’t feel like there was much to celebrate.
How many more St. Patrick’s days would we have once Ballybeg became something unrecognizable?
I knew that Ronan and I felt the blow of knowing how the vote would go—after all we lived here, but Jax didn’t seem immune to it either. He was on our side. But then again, he was a tourist. He’d be going soon enough, and he’d remember that village where he got stranded in Ireland and wouldn’t care that it had been wiped off the map.
Jax nudged my shoulder with his. “You’re scowling, darlin’ Dee.”
“Am I?”
He raised his glass of Irish Whiskey, from my good stash, mind you. “You certainly are.”
I looked out at the quiet street past Ronan.
The village was asleep; the only sound was the occasional rustle of wind in the trees and the distant bark of a dog, probably Finn.
Angus had told me they both were suffering frominsomnia.
Where would Angus go?
Where would Seamus and Paddy?
They’d lived here their whole life. So many of us had.
Where would we go?
Would we disperse to Cork or Limerick?
What wouldIdo?
I’d have to find a job. I couldn’t afford the taxes on my farm, and the bar was barely hanging by a thread. Once I sold them, I’d probably have enough to start over somewhere else. But I didn’t want to leave. This was my home.
Fresh pain rammed into me.
I shivered.
Jax slid his arm around me and rocked me against him.
“I have an idea of what’s going on. But can someone give me details?” Jax asked.
I hesitated, my fingers curling tightly into his sweater. I wanted to tell him it was nothing, that I was fine, that I could handle it. But the words stuck in my throat. The truth that I was not fine and I couldn’t handle it sat heavily on my chest.
“As you know,” I started. “The county has sided with the developers. Cillian and his lot have their green light, and now he’s going to be breathing down our necks about the land.”
“What does that mean?” Jax looked from me to Ronan.
Ronan shrugged. “They’re gonna start buying up property. They already have bids out, but no one wanted to sell until they knew what the council planned to do.”
“And now?”
“Now, they won’t have a choice. Cillian's land valuation was inflated, which increased our taxes. Some of us can pay it, many of us can’t,” I added.
Ronan straightened. “Cillian is going to come after the Gallagher Farm.”
“Your family’s?” Jax stroked my shoulder.
“Aye.” I leaned into him, taking what comfort I could.
