Page 98 of Wicked Ruin

“They’re on their way,” Erin says.

“Tell them it might be pulmonary edema. History of congestive heart failure. They want oxygen ready the moment they arrive.”

Erin relays the message. Caitlin kneels beside me and takes up the same breathing pattern as I am. “Just like that,” she says, her voice husky but strong. “You can do this. Don’t give in to the fear, Keenan. Breathe nice and slow, like Bridget showed you.”

I watch the color begin to return to his cheeks as the bright flashing sirens pull up to the house. That was so damn fast, but thank god.

They run up the large grassy hill, uniformed medics with oxygen in tow. One falls to his knees beside us and takes over as I step back.

Caitlin hugs me, holding me tight.

“Thank you,” she says fiercely. I feel like I didn’t do much, but I know she needed someone to anchor to.

“Of course.” I hug her back. I love this woman as if she were my own mother. We all do.

“They’ve got him now. It’ll be alright, Caitlin. You’ll see.”

As they load him onto the stretcher and Caitlin follows, cars start pulling up the winding driveway. The family’s been notified.

Erin walks over to me, smiling but still a little shocked, I think. We all are. My heart’s still pounding in my chest. “Brilliant, Bridge. You helped him through it until the medics came, didn’t you?”

I shrug. Maybe, but it doesn’t feel like much.

Erin eyes me curiously.

“Bridge, let’s go back to mine for a bit. Caitlin will go with them, and I’ll update Cavin.” She gives me a meaningful look. “We need to talk.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

DECLAN

I run my thumb along the rim of my glass. Condensation drips down the side. The music on the dance floor thrums, the black interior of The Craic teeming with life.

Christ, I’ve missed coming here. I love The Craic. What I really want is to bring Bridget here. I will. I'm going to find a way, even if I'm playing with fucking fire.

But I’m nervous as a fucking lad facing the consequences of his actions.

Cavin's been distracted since we got here, and I still haven't gotten to the real reason I asked to speak with him because the moment he walks in, everyone wants a piece of him. The bartender has something to discuss; Lorcan greets him and shows him a problem with the security system, and even Ashland says he's been meaning to catch up. Colm’s quiet, talking to no one and listening to everybody as always.

Before I know it, an hour’s passed, and I’ve barely gotten a word in.

Maybe this wasn't the best place to tell him… Bridget’s carrying my baby.

The plan was to tell Seamus. Hierarchy, respect, and all that. Seamus arranged the alliance. Seamus will need to know that his carefully constructed plan has a… complication.

Problem is, I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want to fix this, all of it.

I need to tell Seamus, and I will, but maybe it's better to tell Cavin first. That’s the move. We've always had each other's backs.

Maybe he'll keep Seamus from murdering me when I tell him about my impending fatherhood.

Or maybe he’ll kick my arse and hand me over to Seamus for the kill.

I glance sideways at him across the table. He’s frowning at something on his phone, entirely unaware that I’m sitting next to him, trying to figure out how to be the right man for everyone who needs me simultaneously.

I eye Cavin’s Guinness and imagine what it would be like to take a sip, before I remind myself I broke those bonds that held me to liquor.

“Sorry, mate.” Cavin comes over and sits down at the table. He sees me eyeing his drink and jerks his chin toward the Guinness. “Y’ever feel the temptation anymore?”