by Dee, Cara
Even so, she’d been fucking malicious about the whole thing. I didn’t wanna believe it.
There was a lot of shit I was struggling to believe.
One year. My world had turned upside down in just a year.
I’d barely begun to process it all.
Patrick’s photo stared back at me. It’d been taken at the wedding. The photographer had captured a rare glimpse of a softer smile when he’d looked down a bit and loosened his tie.
I shook my head and sniffled.
It was difficult to watch Colm these days too. Conn’s death was so fresh to me, and they were carbon copies of each other.
A hand slipped into mine, and I mustered a small smile for Autumn.
She rested her head on my arm and gazed at Patrick’s picture too.
“I’m gonna miss him,” she said softly.
“Me too. So much.” I kissed the top of her head, lingering, and closed my eyes. “We need some good news in our lives, I think.”
There’d only been one thing that’d brought a genuine smile to Finnegan’s face in the past few days, and it was when I told him we were expecting a boy.
I should probably inform him we were likely expecting a ten-year-old girl too.
Finnegan’s house was a two-story building in the heart of town that he’d inherited from his grandparents. It’d originally been six apartments, five of which had been reserved for visiting family, but he’d turned it all into one big condo with lots of nooks and crannies and guest rooms.
The rain had stopped, so I waited outside as Finnegan guided Shan and a couple others indoors. I knew he worried about Shannon and didn’t want to let him out of his sight. He gave me the same treatment, and I had to reassure him every time I spent more than five minutes away from him.
It was my husband in a nutshell, particularly when he was grieving. He was constantly herding his family together so he was able to keep an eye on all of us.
Autumn stayed outside on the sidewalk with me, and she stepped forward and picked a flower from the pot below one of the windows. Viv had told me the old lady who ran the pub next door with her husband maintained the flowers when the O’Sheas weren’t here. Bright purple and yellow flowers hung below each little window in wooden boxes. As if the old stone façade weren’t countryside enough. There was even a wrought-iron sign above the front door at the center that read “Anno 1813.”
It was a town that breathed history, and the O’Sheas had been here for centuries.
“We fought for independence against the British here,” Finnegan had told me last night. “It was how the Murrays and O’Sheas met and joined forces, first in the rebellion in the late 1700s, then as an established clan that assisted the Republican Army during the Civil War.”
Now more than ever, I could see how this was “home” for Finnegan, and I hoped we’d spend a lot of time here.
When he returned outside again, he took my hand and managed a tired smile for Autumn. “Ready to see Uncle Eric, blue eyes?”
“Yeah.” She skipped over to his other side and grabbed his hand too.
Together, we walked up the road toward the hospital where Eric had been admitted for “gastrointestinal-related issues” by a doctor whose last name was O’Shea. A distant cousin of sorts to Shannon.
Up until yesterday, Sullivan had been a patient of his too. Now, he was resting up in one of Finnegan’s guest rooms.
Our guest rooms, as the hubby loved to remind me.
Finnegan draped an arm around my shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “Thank you for everything these past few days. It’s the third time you’ve thrown together a funeral for our family.”
I turned my head and kissed the hand he had around me. “Don’t mention it. I’m just glad we could bring him here. I can see Patrick preferring the pubs here to the places in Philly.”
Finnegan smiled to himself and stared at the ground for a bit while he walked. “He was lost for a few years. Philly does that to all of us. We love it there, but you gotta find your footing.” The memory of when he’d first brought me to Philly came to mind. Finnegan had struggled then too. It’d been the first time he’d really opened up to me, and he’d said he needed me to ground him. “You’re right,” he murmured. “He did love Killarney. He was…calmer here. More at ease and family-centered.”
I wished I could’ve experienced Patrick that way.
Eric winced and sat up in his bed when we arrived. “You had to wear black? I feel like I’m dying.”
I stifled my amusement and kissed his cheek.
“You look the part too, mate.” Finnegan grinned faintly and sat down in the chair. “We came straight here from the church. Well, we ate first.” He patted his stomach. “How’re your anal fissures?”
I snorted and slapped his arm. I swear, every time we stopped by, there was a new gastrointestinal issue slapped to Eric’s name. It was a good thing he had a private room.
“How about I put a fist up your—”
“Whoa, hey, okay.” I gave Eric a pointed look. “How bored are you, hon?”
He made a face and welcomed Autumn to his side when she climbed up on his bed. “I’m ready to wear actual clothes.” He eyed me as I sat down on Finnegan’s knee. “I see you’re legit waddlin’ these days.”
I scowled.
Finnegan did his best to hide his amusement, but he fucking failed.
I was sorely tempted to bat away his hand when he snaked his arm around me to stroke my stomach. Ever since we’d been reunited, he’d fall asleep with a hand on me so he could “feel the kicks.”
The humor faded some with Eric’s sober expression, and he asked how the funeral had been.
Finnegan leaned back in the chair and shrugged slightly. “Pat would’ve wanted a party, so we gave him the opposite.”
I grinned at him over my shoulder, and he sent me a quick wink.
Eric glanced down at Autumn, pensive and wistful. We’d all been through so much, and he could be thinking about a million things, and yet I knew. For him, securing stability for Autumn was his one and only goal after a year of chaos. Of loss and fighting.
I wouldn’t have to bring up what I’d promised Autumn; Eric was about to do it for us.
“Hey,” he murmured and stroked her hair. She looked up at him. “Remember the playroom next to the nurses station?”
“Yeah?” She sat up and smoothed down her hair.
“Think you can hang out there for a bit? I wanna talk to Finn and Emilia about something.”
Yup, this was it. My stomach tightened with nerves, and I threaded my fingers with Finnegan’s. He was the only one out of the loop for this, and it was where the nerves stemmed from. I needed him to react well to our plan. Having spent those two months alone with Autumn, I was with Eric. I agreed with him.
Autumn gave me a shy glance on her way out, and I smiled reassuringly. She could trust me. One way or another, she would be by my side.
Eric pulled himself up to sit straighter, so I walked over and placed a pillow behind his back.
“Thanks.” He took a breath and looked to be fighting through the pain. “Remind me never to get shot in the stomach again.”
I squeezed his hand before I returned to Finnegan’s lap.
“I think I know what you want to talk about,” I murmured.
“I figured.” He was as amused as he was uncomfortable. It was, after all, a weird situation. “She told me about…you know. Everything.”
I nodded. I’d told Autumn she could.
Finnegan cleared his throat and lifted a brow pointedly. My impatient husband wanted to be clued in.
Eric was hesitating, or rather, unsure of how to phrase himself, so I spoke.
“Before you guys rescued us,” I said, placing my hand on Finnegan’s, “Autumn asked me why I can’t be her mom.”
“Oh,” he mouthed. His brow furrowed, and he looked to Eric.
“She’s reverted a lot this year,” Eric admitted. “Most of it
is because of how messed up everything’s been. But some of it—I mean, fuck, I don’t want this to sound like it’s your fault. It sure as fuck isn’t. It’s just, living with youse—she’s gotten her first glimpse of what it’s like to have parents.”
Finnegan’s gaze flicked between Eric and me a few times, and I scooted out a bit so I could face him easier. He cleared his throat and nodded with a dip of his chin. “You said adoption was out of the question and that you might sign over custody to your folks.”
“Because I don’t want her out of my life,” Eric replied. “I don’t wanna give her up—or have her raised by just anyone.”
“She would never want to be far away from you either,” I told him, then addressed Finnegan. “But she wants a mom and a dad.”
I watched him mull things over. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and jaw, making eye contact with Eric and me every now and then, and he started tapping his foot a little.
A beat later, he gestured for me to stand up. He was gonna pace; the hubby was a pacer. So I took his seat, and he paced in front of the bed.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” he said. “Every child is a blessing.” He came to a stop and faced Eric. “You know I adore Autumn, mate. But do you fully grasp what this would mean? Emilia would fill a position that’s been empty for as long as Autumn’s been alive, but whether you wear the title or not, you’ve been the girl’s father. And I’m not intimidated or worried about protecting some turf. I’m concerned about how Autumn will adapt to listening to me instead of you.”
“I get that.” Eric nodded slowly. “It would be a major adjustment for her. But it’s ultimately what she needs. Stability. Structure. I’m not saying a single parent can’t provide that—I’m saying I can’t. So, in the end, I think she’ll take to you pretty naturally.”
“And you want this,” Finnegan stated.
“It’s for the best.” Eric’s voice was resolute. “I can be her uncle forever—I wanna be close to her forever—but she needs more than that. And I can think of no better two people to fill the shoes my brother and sister-in-law left behind. Two people who always liked you, for the record. You know Jackson was as traditional as you are.”
“He was a great man that I looked up to.” Finnegan pinched his lips, thinking. He slid me an uncertain look, silently asking what I thought.
“I think we can give her a good home,” I said gently. “I think she’ll make a wonderful sister to any future children we have. And I think we can find a balance over time. We will be her primary guardians—her parents—and her home will be with us. Eric will, of course—” I raised a brow at him “—live in Villanova too. In fact, he will make sure to live in our neighborhood. That girl deserves to have her entire family gathered close.”
Finnegan’s mouth twitched, and he addressed Eric. “I reckon the wife just told you to sell your condo in the city.”
I beamed at Eric’s bashful smirk. Only these Irish fuckers could cram some cockiness into their expressions even when they felt out of place and unsure.
“Is this a yes?” he asked Finnegan. He already knew my response.
Finnegan offered a look that, surprisingly, reminded me of Autumn’s expression when she said duh. “It’ll be our honor, mate.”
Oh hell. I hadn’t expected the tidal wave of emotions. I sniffled and couldn’t help the big smile.
“Check you out, baby.” Finnegan walked over to me and bent down, and he lifted my chin. “Did you honestly think I’d say no?”
I chuckled tearfully, and he gave me a loud smooch.
“Family’s just everything,” I said.
He hummed and straightened up. “I’ll drink to that in the pub later.”
Autumn became impossibly shy the following days. Eric and I had talked to her; Finnegan had bowed out to give the girl some breathing room, and it made me wonder if his method had been best in the end. He was ridiculously good at reading people, and his own approach had lasted about fifteen seconds. It was all he’d needed to let Autumn know what was up. He’d come down for breakfast one morning, dropped a few catalogues on the table, and said, “Since Emilia and I own you for life now, you gotta decide how you want your room to look in the new house for when we go home.”
It’d just been so easy and breezy, and though Autumn hadn’t lost her blush for over an hour, it seemed, she’d also felt at ease and playful.
Or maybe she needed a mix of both? I’d been clearer with her, letting her know we all loved her, and she could set whatever pace she felt comfortable with. No one was expecting her to start calling anyone anything new overnight, and—fuck. I was overthinking it. I sighed and tried to relax.
“What’s got you fidgeting?”
“I’m relaxing!”
“Whoa, okay—easy, princess. Yeah, you’re definitely relaxed.”
I huffed.
Maybe I was a little restless—not to mention not used to being alone with Finnegan outside of our bedroom. The house was completely empty for the first time in probably ever, and I had nothing to do. Everything was set up for the memorial tomorrow. It would be held in the pub right next door, and it was where several of our family members were having dinner right now. Eric and Autumn were celebrating his being released from the hospital, so they were at McDonald’s.
Perhaps I should double-check—
“Where are you going? You’re the one who suggested a movie.” Finnegan yanked me down on the couch again, and I couldn’t help but glare at him. Did he not understand how difficult it was for me to get up from the couch by myself? I weighed a freaking ton! “Retract the claws, my love.” He leaned in and kissed me softly, waiting me out. “There’s nothing else you can do.”
“But the list—”
“Fuck the list.” He pecked me again and slipped his hand past my jaw and back to my neck. “You gotta unclench. You’re always on my case about taking it easy. It’s your turn.”
He was right.
I released a deep breath and leaned back against the couch.
He coaxed me into a slow make-out session that drew shivers from me, and with each drugging kiss, I melted further into the couch.
“I miss you,” he murmured.
An unexpected bolt of desire tore through me. I missed him too, and the urgency to show him rose within me rapidly. Locking my arms around him, I kissed him back harder, and he groaned lustfully. With the tension shifting, the worries disappeared and the priorities changed. “Right here?”
No matter how crazy life got, we had to make time for each other.
He was already going for my tank top. And all he did was nod, need clouding his eyes.
I lifted my arms above my head, and he pushed the top off, only to go for my pajama bottoms next. Then it was his turn. Between kisses and slow touches, we got naked on the couch, and I ended up flat on my back.
“Christ—these…” He hovered over me, his thick cock hard, heavy, and aligned with my pussy, his lips brushing over my left nipple. “I fucking love your body.”
I pulled him down as much as I could and kissed him hungrily, and I guess I got a little demanding. I guided his hand between my legs and nearly arched off the damn couch when he slid two fingers toward my clit.
“God,” I exhaled shakily.
It’d been too long. Everything had been up in the air since we’d been rescued; we hadn’t found the time…
“I missed you so much,” I whimpered.
He sucked lightly on the dip between my shoulder and neck, and his fingers… I moaned when they curled inside me. His thumb circled my clit persistently, knowing exactly how to make me beg for his cock.
“I love you.” He covered my mouth with his and withdrew his fingers. Then he guided his cock to me and waited a beat.
“Love you,” I gasped. “Please, baby.”
“Look at me.” He rested his forehead to mine, and I swallowed dryly. The look in his eyes was almost too intense.
He pushed in, burying himself in o
ne swift push, and I couldn’t help it. My eyes fluttered closed, and I dug my heels into his ass.
Christ, we wouldn’t be able to have sex in this position much longer. He didn’t get as deep as I needed him, because someone’s stomach was in the way.
“Jesus fuck, you’re wet,” he whispered raggedly.
I flushed and threaded my fingers through his hair. “Lower,” I breathed.
His eyes lit up with dark desire and challenge. Then he ducked his head and returned to my breasts. He sucked on my nipples and fucked me with purpose, the euphoria quickly washing over me. I moaned and raked my fingernails up and down his back, and I arched into him. Holy shit, that felt amazing. My skin was super sensitive and desperate for rough holds.
I hissed in pleasure. “You feel so…”
“So do you. But I need more of you now.” He pulled out and sat back on his heels. “Get on all fours for me.”
Fuck yes.
He helped me get into position, and he got perfectly handsy. His firm hands stroked and parted my cheeks. I wriggled my ass at him, in love with the urgency between us, and one of his hands came down on me. Hard.
My yelp morphed into a drawn-out groan, and then he was slamming his cock deep inside me again. The heavy pounding would leave bruises on both of us. His grip got rougher, a little painful, and more than a little arousing. And while he pounded, pounded, pounded, I cried out and fisted the couch cushion.
I felt feverish, flushed, and like I was about to explode—like I needed to scream but couldn’t.
Finnegan groaned and sped up.
With one hand between us, teasing and manipulating my clit, and the forceful fucking, I was shooting straight toward my first orgasm in months. The buildup was already more intense than I’d ever experienced, and add a hormonal roller coaster to that…
“Too good,” he panted. “Too fucking good.”
“I can’t—any longer,” I pleaded. “Make me come. Oh God, almost.”