The Fire (Hurricane Book 4)

by R. J. Prescott

  “Shit,” Kier muttered as he looked at Driscoll. The pathetic mutt was sat next to a puddle of piss, his head tilted towards Kieran and looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

  “Sorry Danny, we were just chatting,” I said, knowing instantly that I should’ve kept my trap shut.

  “Well how nice. If I’d known that, I’d have brought some cake and a pot of tea with me. As it is, I’ll just have to remind you this is a professional feckin’ boxing gym. If you want to sit around and chat, piss off down the tea rooms,” Danny said.

  “What’s a tea room?” I asked.

  “I think it’s like an old fashioned café, but more upmarket like,” Kier explained.

  “Fuck me backwards,” Con muttered. “I’m going to be training until midnight if you two don’t shut your fuckin’ holes.”

  We all turned to look at Danny. His arms were crossed and a cigarette hung from his lips as he gave us his famous death stare. We were all squirming and cracking under the pressure when he finally spoke.

  “Kieran, clean up my floor and then I want five miles out of the lot of you.” This time he didn’t he raise his voice, and that was even scarier than when he shouted.

  “I’ll take Driscoll with us,” Kier offered. No matter what Kier did he couldn’t train the fucker, yet Danny only had to give the dog a single command and he jumped straight to it. I could relate.

  “Don’t be feckin stupid. It’s freezin’ out there. Driscoll. Office,” he ordered. The spoilt mutt licked Kier’s hand, then sashayed his canine arse all the way to Danny’s office where, no doubt, he’d lay out in front of the nice warm radiator.

  “Well, what are ya waiting for. Move!” Danny barked, and we jumped to it.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph. That mongrel of yours gets better treatment than we do,” I moaned, as we made our way to the changing room.

  “You make a good point Tommy. Why don’t you go back and tell Danny how you really feel?” Kieran suggested, sarcastically.

  “Don’t you have dog piss to clean?” I replied, grinning when he gave me the finger. “Besides, I might not be the sharpest tool in the box, but even I ain’t that stupid.”

  Two weeks later I was like a kid hyped up on sugar, I was that excited. When Evie had a day off, we’d gone to Ikea and picked out a sofa, some chairs and a load of other shit. Since I mentioned to her that I need help decorating, she’d downloaded this app on my phone called Pinterest she’d found, and had saved loads of idea pictures on it. I’d taken that straight to Liam and Albie who hooked me up big time, and while Evie was working, they helped me pick up the furniture we’d chosen, plus a bunch of other stuff, and had spent the rest of the day helping me ‘dress’ my apartment. I didn’t have a clue what the fuck that was, until Albie explained it meant moving shit round until it looked nice.

  Kier ripped the piss out of me for asking the only two gay guys in our group for guidance with the decorating. I explained that it was fuck all to do with them being gay. I just saw the way Con and Kieran dressed and firmly believed the only evidence in existence of them having anything resembling good taste, was their wives. Lucky for them it was Marie and Em who’d decorated their homes, but not even I was enough of a dick to ask the girls for help. They would’ve done it in a heartbeat, but both of ’em were spread thin enough as it was having to look after their babies. I briefly considered bending Earnshaw’s ear. I’d only been to his place a couple of times, and it was seriously nice, but man did he have expensive taste. My decorating budget extended to Ikea and charity shops, and there was more chance of Earnshaw trying on dresses than shopping anywhere on my list.

  Liam and Albie left with a couple of cases of beer as my thanks for their help. Despite giving Con and Kier shit, I owed them a drink or two as well for their carpentry skills. My apartment looked un-fuckin’-real and I seriously couldn’t have done it without all of them. Despite my not wanting to bother them, the girls eventually caught wind of my surprise and left me some shit at the gym. I was now the proud owner of three scented candles, two plug-in air fresheners, a lint roller, vases and a ton of other shit I would never in a million years have thought to buy.

  “What are you doing here? I was going to get the bus to yours. You didn’t have to come and pick me up. It’s your day off,” Evie said, her face flushed with excitement as she raced down the library steps.

  “I had some errands to run and I didn’t tell you I was coming because I wasn’t sure I’d finish on time,” I replied, giving her a quick kiss when she reached me. Relieving her of her heavy bag, I threw it over my shoulder.

  “Jesus, what do ya have in here? It feels like house bricks,” I asked.

  “Just some new books to read. We had a new delivery in today so I stocked up. I feel guilty for not putting them out on the shelves for a bit first, but they looked really good,” she replied.

  “Babe, you have issues,” I said.

  “I do not!” she protested.

  “A fiver says you mention the books in your next confession. Issues,” I replied. She slipped her arm through mine as we walked, and bit her lip between her teeth as she mulled over what I’d said.

  “Fair enough. Maybe it’s not exactly a sin that needs confessing, but then again I always feel better when I’ve got it all out, don’t you?”

  “Love, as it is Father Pat treats my confessions like a soap opera. If I gave up any more sins, he’d want to put me on series record. Get me into the box on the daily like,” I explained.

  “He does not. Father Pat takes confession seriously,” she argued, giggling.

  “Evelyn, I shit you not, he once brought popcorn and a cup of tea into the confessional. I don’t even bother going into the booth now. He takes it in the vestry when we go before a fight, so at least I get to share the snacks now.” She burst out laughing, and didn’t stop all the way to the car. I couldn’t really be sure whether she knew I wasn’t joking. Although I don’t entirely blame him for the food and beverage situation, given that our meetings were sort of on the lengthy side.

  I opened the door for her before walking around to the driver’s side.

  “Would it be okay to take a shower at your place please? I brought a change of clothes with me, but I always feel a bit dusty when I finish work,” she asked, as I started the engine.

  “Babe, you have my unconditional permission to strip naked and get wet at Casa Del Riordon any time you like,” I replied, making her roll her eyes.

  “I don’t know why I bother. Does everything have to have sexual innuendo with you?” she asked, smiling.

  “What are you talking about? I just gave you permission to shower at my place anytime you like. It’s your dirty mind that went straight to sex. You know, I’m beginning to think you’re a wee bit of a hussy you know,” I replied, trying desperately to keep a straight face.

  “Well, you really should watch yourself around me Tommy. I’ve been known to be quite loose with my morals from time to time, and I wouldn’t want to taint your otherwise pristine reputation,” she said. Fuck I loved the banter with this girl.

  “And an example of these ‘loose morals’ would be?” I asked.

  “Well, I don’t want to scare you away or anything, but I cheated on Scrabble once. I misspelled a word and convinced the teenagers I was playing with at the library that I was right so I could land on the triple word score,” she admitted.

  “Probably set their education back years that. Honestly, I’m really starting to re-evaluate this relationship you know,” I replied.

  “I don’t blame you. Like I said. Loose morals. So what’s this surprise you have to show me?”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise now, would it?” I said. I had to bite my lip for the rest of the journey to keep from blurting out what I’d been up to. Instead, I asked her as many questions as I could about her day.

  She literally lit up when she talked about the library. I was more than a little worried when she first went back. Admitte
dly there was no sign of smoke damage to her lungs, and I’d taken her to a couple of medical check-ups so I could be sure. Mostly, I was concerned about post-traumatic stress syndrome. It wasn’t uncommon after such an upsetting incident to have anxiety attacks, and of all places, the library would hold the most triggers for an episode. I encouraged her to talk about the fire as often as she wanted and to admit if anything happened to cause her unease, even to get some counselling if she needed it, but in the end I had to trust her to deal with things her way and to communicate with me if she had problems.

  It felt like every traffic light along the way turned red the minute we rocked up to it. By the time we got home, I was climbing the walls with excitement. When we were finally standing at my front door, I took out a scarf and tied it around her eyes.

  “Why do I need to be blind folded? This is beginning to feel a little Fifty Shades of Grey,” she said.

  “There you go with the sexual references again, pervert,” I replied.

  “Where did you get the scarf from anyway?” she asked.

  “It was a Christmas present from Ma. Never in my life have I worn a scarf, but she buys me a new one every year,” I answered, and grabbing her hand I led her into my apartment and removed the blindfold.

  “Ta, da!” I said with flourish.

  “Oh Tommy. This is amazing! When did you do all this, it looks so beautiful!” she replied, her eyes darting from one side of the room to the other with excitement as she tried to take it all in.

  “I showed the boys those pictures you saved for me and they hooked me up. Even with the girly shit like pillows and that. The girls gave me a load of stuff to make it feel more like home as well,” I explained, loving the look on her face.

  “Well, you all did a fantastic job. It looks like a show home from one of those interior design magazines,” she said.

  “There’s something else I wanted to show you,” I replied, pulling her over to one side of the living room where Con and Kieran had constructed floor to ceiling bookcases, filling the whole wall. I’d purposely kept them completely empty. “These are for you.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, turning her adorably confused face to look at me.

  “Babe, as far as decorating is concerned, all I need is a beer fridge, a microwave, a decent tv and a comfy sofa. And I ain’t tryin’ to pressure you into movin’ in with me or nothin’, ’cause I know you wouldn’t want that unless you were married. But I want you to want to be here. To feel like this could be your home too. Anyway, I saw that bookmark you left on the coffee table a few weeks ago. You know, the one from Beauty and the Beast that says ‘Marry the Beast and get the library,’ and I thought, shit, that’s a great idea! You know, get the library, marry the girl. I know all your books are in boxes at your brother’s place, so I figured if I built you your own little library, you might put up with this beast, and stay. Maybe move some of your stuff here, so that, when the time comes, you’ll already feel like you’re home.” She covered her mouth with her hand and looked at the bookcases before looking back at me with tears in her eyes.

  “So?” I asked, nervously. “What do you think?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  EVELYN

  “Oh Tommy. You did all this for me?” I asked.

  “Well, I didn’t exactly build it, but it was definitely my idea,” he replied, rubbing his neck anxiously.

  Without warning, I turned and literally jumped on him. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I smothered his face in kisses.

  “You like it then?” he asked, a huge smile spread across his face.

  “Like it? I love it. Tommy, this is literally the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. But you know you didn’t have to right? As beautiful as the bookcases are, where you are is always where I’ll want to be,” I replied.

  “You might like me best but the books come a close second, so I’m hedging my bets and keeping both your favourites in the same place from now on,” he said, his hands caressing me as he held me up.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind keeping my books in your living room? Quite a lot of them are romance novels and I’d hate for them to embarrass you in front of your friends,” I replied, voicing my concerns.

  “Babe, nothin’ about you will embarrass me. First, the whole point of this is that I’m hoping one day this place will be as much your home as it is mine, and having your books here will help you feel that way. And second, I’m pretty sure none of those fuckers can read anyway,” he reassured me.

  Cupping his face reverently, I leant forward and kissed him gently.

  “You really are the best Thomas Riordon.” As usual, his cock thickened as I whispered his full name, the slight smirk I was sporting telling him I knew exactly what I was doing when I said it.

  “Fuck me, I’ve created a monster. You keep sayin’ my full name like that and one day I’m gonna take out some poor unsuspecting old lady’s eye with this beast,” he joked, looking down towards his dick.

  “Well, let’s hope for the sake of that poor old pensioner, that you manage to keep it in your pants when we’re out in public,” I replied. I squeezed my thighs together, making him groan as he pressed even tighter up against me, before jumping down.

  “As opposed to at home, where you’re perfectly happy for me to let it hang free?” he asked, hopefully.

  “Only with you can a conversation run from literature to the amount of personal space your reproductive organs require,” I replied. Wrapping his hands around my waist from behind, he nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck.

  “You say the sexiest things, baby,” he told me.

  “What? Reproductive organs, or literature?” I asked, laughing.

  “Damn you and your filthy mouth,” he said, and grabbing my hand, pulled me towards the front door.

  “Where are we going?” I replied.

  “We’re going back to your brother’s flat to pick up all your books, so I can listen to him bitch and moan about what a pain in the arse I am. Then, we’re grabbing a takeaway, a few beers and a bottle of whatever you’d like on the way back. Once I’ve fed you, we’ll unpack your stuff and then I’m going to feel you up while pretending to cuddle you while we watch a movie.”

  “Wow,” I said, smiling. “Books, food and a good movie. I really have hit the trifecta of dates this evening.”

  “Don’t forget about the groping and cuddling,” he pointed out.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied, letting him lead me out the door.

  Fed, lazy and a little sleepy from the glass of wine I’d drunk with our Chinese takeaway, I lay out on the sofa with Tommy spooning behind me, and stared at my books. As I glanced across the spines of some of my favourite titles, a feeling of complete contentment washed over me. All my life I’d been reading great love stories, and now there I was living my own. There were a million romantic things that Tommy could’ve done for me, and believe me he did them regularly, but this one showed just how much he knew the real me. The skinny, freckled, ginger girl with glasses, that sat at the front of the bus with a book in her hand. Tommy knew exactly who I was, and embraced it.

  The things about me that most men would try to change, he celebrated. His friends told him constantly that he was lucky I put up with him. Usually after something came out of his mouth that he completely regretted, which happened more often than not given that he had very little filter. But the truth was, I was the lucky one. It wasn’t just that there were scores of women who wanted to be me, and believe me, I met at least one every time we went to the pub. It was that he gave me the confidence to love the parts of myself that I’d always tried to conceal. Perhaps that was the trick to happiness. Don’t look for a man that will make you fall in love. Look for a man who will help you love yourself.

  “What’s got that big brain of yours thinkin’ so much? I can hear the cogs turnin’ from here,” Tommy asked, the rumble of his chest as he spoke vibrating through my body.

  “I was just think
ing about how happy I am, that’s all,” I admitted. When we’d cuddled in next to each other, he’d slipped his hand beneath my top and had spent most of the movie drawing lazy circles across my midriff. He was obsessed with the curve between my hip and my breast, his hand always gravitating back there. At my words, it stilled and he flattened his palm to rest on my belly, sending a tingle of pleasure right through to my core.

  “I’m glad to hear it, love. But you sure you’re okay? I know you were upset after I fucked things up for you at church with your Ma, and with Anne that bitch ex-friend of me Ma’s,” he asked.

  “Anne doesn’t go to St Paul’s anymore,” I told him. “I don’t know if it was the embarrassment of having the congregation know what happened between you both or if it was your Mam’s threat, but she hasn’t been back to mass since.”

  “I didn’t think you heard Ma going postal?”

  “I didn’t. But your Mam came up to me at the next mass and apologised for the things Anne said. She told me you weren’t that person anymore, and that I shouldn’t hold the sins of a horny, feckless teenager against him. That you cared about me and respected me, and that I should give you a second chance. I explained that we were still together and that she had nothing to apologise for,” I said.

  “What happened then?” he asked.

  “She hugged me so hard I thought she was going to break a rib, then sat next to me during the service and spent the next hour giving my mother the evil eye,” I replied.

  “That’s me Ma,” he said, proudly. “You spoken to your Ma since?”

  “I haven’t built up the courage yet. She always looks so stern and angry. And honestly? I don’t know what more we have to say to each other. She’s my mother, and I do love her, but I want to have a relationship with her where she can accept me for who I am and the choices I make, instead of trying to control me.