Page 6 of Faithless Vows

I get out and make my way around to her side before she gets impatient enough to climb out on her own. When I open her door and help her out, a cold gust of wind comes off the water. She shivers, wrapping her arms around herself and pulling her coat tighter. Her mouth twists as she looks up at me, and I know she’s realizing exactly why I told her to dress warmer.

I try to hold back a smirk, but she catches it before I can. The corner of her mouth tugs up before she presses her lips together, trying so hard to look annoyed that I can’t stop the laugh that escapes me. That makes her roll her eyes, but the smile she was fighting breaks free. “Don’t start,” she grumbles.

I ignore her grumbling and take her hand, and we walk across the sand together. The tide’s high today, the waves steadily creeping farther up the beach, so we stop where the sand’s still dry. I step behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, and she leans back into me, her hands coming up to cover mine. We stay like that for a while, just watching the waves roll in and drag back out, the dark blue water stretching ahead of us like it goes on forever.

When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet. “God, I missed this. The smell of the sea. The sound of the waves.”

The way she says it makes me want to bring her back as many times as she’ll let me. “Then I’ll bring you back,” I murmur, brushing a kiss against her hair. “Whenever you want.”

Her fingers tighten over mine. “Thank you, Ronin.”

Before I can answer, a shout carries over the wind behind us, and we both turn as a group of boys pass with fishing poles slung over their shoulders. A couple of them are going back and forth about who’s going to catch the biggest fish, while another trails a few steps behind, insisting they’re not going to catch anything with the waves this high. That sets the others off, and before long they’re all laughing and talking over one another as they head down the beach.

Alannah looks up at me, smiling at their antics, and I can’t help but return it. When I look back at the water, I realize the waves have crept higher up the beach while we weren’t paying attention, closer now to where we’re standing. I give her hand a gentle tug. “Come on. Want to go look at the shops?”

She nods and lets me lead her up the path from the beach. We pass a few small storefronts set back from the shore, then stop at a little coffee shop with fogged windows. I get a coffee for myself and tea for her, and we take the drinks with us, the cups warm in our hands as we wander past a bait shop, a small market, and a window full of postcards and painted shells.

By the time we’ve finished our drinks, we’re near the end of the little row of shops. Up ahead, there’s a line coming out of a chip shop, and I nod toward it. “You hungry?”

Alannah follows my gaze, then smiles. “Even if I wasn’t, I think a line like that means we should get some.”

Even with how busy the shop is, it doesn’t take long before our order comes out. We find a wooden picnic table nearby and sit across from each other with the paper-wrapped chips between us. I peel back the paper and take one, the grease burning my fingers as I blow on it before taking a bite. Salty and crisp. These were definitely worth the line, I decide, reaching for another. Alannah takes one too, and we eat withour fingers, talking between bites. Somewhere in the middle of it, Alannah starts talking about her family back home.

Mick had bitched to me more than once about Ireland, about how living on the same piece of land as his whole family had made him feel like everyone was packed in on top of each other, with too many eyes on him and too many people waiting to put him back in his place. But when Alannah talks about it, she makes it sound different. Not crowded. Not suffocating. Like being surrounded by the people she loved had been the best part of living there. She tells me about her Uncle Conor and Aunt Maeve, who were almost like second parents to her, and their children, Declan and Róisín, who were forever talking her into things she knew she shouldn’t be doing. Then she talks about her grandparents, about how she liked helping her grandmam in the kitchen, and her voice goes soft when she tells me how her grandda would sometimes find them there, pull his wife into his arms, and dance with her. A small smile pulls at her mouth, her cheeks going pink, and I like how much those little memories still seem to mean to her.

The more she shares with me, the more I find myself telling her. I tell her about growing up in Southie, how my da taught me the ropes while my mam still tried to give me as much of a childhood as she could. About the lads I ran around with, most of them sons of my da’s men, and Alannah laughs as I tell her story after story about the shit we’d get up to and the trouble it landed us in. Before long, we finish off the chips, and I gather up the empty paper, crushing it into a ball in my fist before tossing it into a bin nearby. “Want to walk around a little more?”

She nods, and we make our way back along the row of shops, stopping in a few places we’d passed earlier. In one of them, I tell her to pick out a souvenir. She tries to argue at first, but I just nod toward the shelves, telling her it was a good day and I want her tohave something to remember it by. She relents and, after a few minutes of looking, finds a small glass bottle filled with sand and tiny shells, Nantasket Beach painted across the front in bright letters. She takes it down with a smile and turns it in her hands, watching the sand shift inside. I make sure she’s happy with it before paying, and when we leave the shop, she asks if we can go back and watch the water for a little while longer. So we stand near the car, back from the beach this time, where the tide has covered most of the sand, and watch the waves until the sun starts to set. Then I take her home.

I walk Alannah up to the door, already wishing I didn’t have to leave her yet. “Thank you for today, Ronin,” she says, smiling up at me. “It was perfect.” Then she surprises me by rising onto her toes and pressing her lips to mine. The kiss starts soft, almost tentative, and I curl my hands into fists at my sides to keep from grabbing her and taking more than I’m sure she’s ready to give. Then her mouth parts against mine, her tongue brushing my lower lip, and Christ, every bit of restraint I have goes with it. My arms slide around her waist, pulling her closer as I deepen the kiss. For a few seconds, the world narrows to just her—the warmth of her mouth, the slide of her tongue against mine, the way she feels pressed against me. Nothing else exists.

Then I remember where we are, standing on Alannah’s front porch outside her parents’ house, and force myself to pull back. I rest my forehead against hers, feeling her breath against my lips, and I can’t stop myself from kissing her once more before I step back. “Get inside, doll,” I murmur. “I’ll see you soon.”

She bites her lower lip, looking up at me through her lashes. “Goodnight, Ronin,” she whispers, then slips inside. I don’t turn away until I hear the lock turn behind her. By the time I get back to the car, I’m grinning like a damn fool, and I drive home with the whole afternoon replaying in my head.

A couple of hours later, I’m sitting on my couch watching the television when Mick calls and tells me to be ready because he’s heading over to pick me up. Before I can get a word in, he hangs up. By the time he pulls up outside, I’ve changed, annoyed with myself for going along with it, butI still slide into the passenger seat and look over at him. “Where we goin’?”

Mick pulls away from the house, smirking as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Gonna try The Harp tonight. Heard from some of the lads it’s lively.”

The Harp is already busy when we walk in, smoke hanging thick in the air and music loud enough to drown out half the room. Mick heads straight for the bar, ordering for us both without asking what I want. I look out over the crowded room while I wait, my gaze moving over the full tables, the men gathered near the bar, and the dance floor packed tight.

When Mick comes back, he has a tray of drinks in his hand, enough of them that I can tell he doesn’t plan on making another trip to the bar anytime soon. He sets it down in front of me, then leans in, passing me one as he shouts into my ear, “Lads were right. Place is lively.”

As soon as I finish the first drink, Mick sets another down in front of me. I pick it up and light a cigarette, sitting back as I blow the smoke toward the ceiling. He keeps yelling over the music, trying to get my attention, but I only catch pieces of what he’s saying. My head is still too full of today, of the happiness on Alannah’s face when she realized I’d brought her to the shore, the way she turned that little bottle of sand and shells over in her hands, and the feel of her mouth on mine at her door.

By the time I finish my third drink, I’m already thinking about calling it a night. I check my watch. It’s still early enough that if I leave now, I could get some decent sleep before work in the morning. There’s no real reason to stay.

Decision made, I reach for my jacket, ready to tell Mick I’m heading out, when someone steps up beside the table and sets a row of shot glasses down in front of us.

She’s good-looking, with dark hair pinned in big curls, red lipstick bright against her smile, and a dress made to turn a man’s head. “Mind if I join?” she asks, already sliding a shot toward Mick, then one toward me.

Mick picks his up with a grin. “Be rude not to.”

If she hears him, she doesn’t show it. She only nudges my shot closer as she lifts her own, eyes on me like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do. “To the night still being young.”

I look at the glass in front of me, already knowing I should leave it there, but I pick it up anyway, tap it lightly against hers, and toss it back.

***