by KT Webb
“If this isn’t what you want, I respect that. We can leave Galway and go right back to Kinnitty right now. I can forget about the last few days if that’s what you want.”
His voice is ragged. I’m torturing him, and I don’t even mean to. When I don’t offer another response, he brings his lips to mine again. This time, the kiss is slow and gentle. It feels like he’s trying to pour everything he has into this one gesture. Suddenly, my brain snaps out of whatever ridiculous stupor it’s been in. I have no idea if it was a defense mechanism or if I am just that afraid of what will happen if I share my feelings. Gannon’s lips disappear, and my eyes fly open. He’s staring at me, silently begging me to say something.
“Gannon, I’m terrified,” I whisper. His hands fall to his sides.
“You’re afraid of me? Why?”
I shake my head, “No. I’m not terrified of you. Well, I mean, I guess in a way I am, but that’s not the point. The point is that I’m afraid of what this is becoming. I have never felt for anyone the way I feel for you.”
It’s his turn to stare at me. I bite my bottom lip again as the rain goes from a few drops to a steady downpour. Neither of us moves to shelter ourselves from the rain. This is one of those moments that defines a relationship. Just days ago, I was harboring a crush for him that I was reasonably sure would never amount to anything. Now, I’m standing in the middle of a ruined family relic, trying to find the right words to express myself. Nothing seems quite right. There aren’t enough words in the English language to encompass the way it feels when he takes me into his arms. I don’t know if seconds have passed, or minutes. It feels more like hours. Finally, Gannon shakes his head.
“We need to get out of this rain. We can talk in the truck.”
Thunder rumbles overhead as he turns to walk away from me. Fuck. No. I have to stop him.
“Gannon!”
He turns to face me, his face a dejected mockery of what it was just minutes ago.
“I love you.”
It’s the only thing I can say. It doesn’t seem sufficient in any way, but before I can worry that it’s the wrong thing, Gannon has pulled me into his arms, capturing my lips in a fervent kiss. We’re both soaking wet and shivering when he lifts me into his arms and carries me to the oversized hearth. Our lips continue their entanglement long after we’re sitting beneath the shelter of the alcove. When he finally releases me, breathless and still holding my face in his hands, I know I said what he wanted to hear.
“Say it again,” he whispers as his thumbs stroke my cheeks.
I grin like an idiot, but I quickly oblige, “Gannon Fitzpatrick, I am hopelessly, completely, and ridiculously in love with you.”
His lips find mine again, this time the kiss is deeper, more passionate than it was moments ago. Alarm bells are going off somewhere in the back of my mind. I can feel it in the way he touches me, in the way he throws everything he has into making love to me. But he hasn’t said it yet. I push down my fear for now. I have to, or I’ll lose my nerve and try to take it all back. The rain is still coming down in waves, and I’m not sure how much longer I can sit in these wet clothes without freezing. Gannon pulls away abruptly, causing me to open my eyes. His blue eyes somehow look even brighter than usual as he looks into my eyes in the wake of my confession.
“I love you too, Blake.”
“Oh, thank God,” I exclaim.
I didn’t mean to say that out loud, and we both know it. The following giggles feel better than any we’ve shared. He pulls me in for another kiss, then stares into my eyes again. The way he’s looking at me tells me my brain finally found the right words to say to him to communicate what I’ve been feeling for longer than I care to admit.
“I have so much I want to say, but I think we need to brave the storm to get out of here before it’s too muddy for us to get back to the truck,” Gannon takes my hand in his, kisses my knuckles, and pulls me into the downpour.
We’re laughing as we try to run back to his truck. Both of us slip and slide on the boggy ground more times than we can count. The rain washes away the tears we’re undoubtedly shedding with our giggles. We’re covered in mud and soaked through the skin when we reach the gate we must climb to get back. Neither of us seems to care about our physical state. I know all I’m thinking about is how much I love him, and the fact that he loves me back.
When we return to our room, Gannon and I take a hot shower before changing into comfy clothes. I pull my laptop from my bag and open the browser to my blog site. Gannon comes up behind me on the bed, kisses my shoulder then uses it as a chin rest.
“I have a confession to make,” Gannon’s breath tickles my neck.
“Oh, really, what’s that?”
“I’ve been reading your blog posts religiously. It helped me get to know you a bit more. And gave me the first indication that you were into me too. That night at the pub when Old Roald showed up, you wrote a post. It was the first time you included me, or at least my name, and I could read between the lines.”
I shift my body on the bed so I can look him in the eyes, “And what lines were you reading between?”
He grins and plants another kiss on my shoulder, “Well, you said what happened in Dublin wasn’t bad, and that you felt like you should keep me in your life. Like I’d be the one to show you, it was okay to make connections with people.”
“You know before I posted that one, I wondered about the implications of what I said. I decided the worst that’d happen would be people finding out I want to be your friend.”
Gannon smiles at me again, “Well, that’s not what I read. I knew then and there that you were interested in me too.”
I can’t remember the exact moment I decided I wanted to pursue something with him, but he’s probably right. Even though I was trying to downplay my budding feelings, I knew something was growing between us. To think that he had been interested in more, even then, makes me wonder how much time I wasted being afraid.
“How long have you wanted me?” I say with a slight shake in my voice.
“I’ve wanted you from the beginning. As much as I wanted you to think that the first kiss was a result of alcohol, it had much more to do with you. Every moment I spent with you in Dublin showed me just how different you were from any woman I’d ever been attracted to. In fact, before you, there was only one other woman who stirred this kind of feeling in me.”
As much as I love hearing how long his feelings have been brewing, I know the other woman he’s referring to is Madigan. She was his first love. He still hasn’t told me about her in his own words, and that makes me wonder if he’s still holding out hope that she might return. Am I the poor man’s Madigan? What is it that song says; if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with?
“I know I’ve never told you about Madigan, but I will. To be honest, since I met you, she’s actually been on my mind more than in the eight years since she left.”
Well, that’s reassuring. I do my best not to let that rattle me. Instead of accusing Gannon of anything, I decide it’s best to let him explain what he means. Jumping to conclusions isn’t going to help either of us.
“Oh? Do I remind you of her?” That seems safe.
Gannon barks out a single laugh. Clearly, he finds that question ridiculous. Now I’m wondering just how much there is to this story that Molly didn’t tell me. Or maybe there are things Molly doesn’t know.
“Sorry. No. You are nothing like Madigan. She was. . .not the person I thought she was. No, the reason she’s been in my thoughts has more to do with how much clearer I am that my feelings for you are more profound than my feelings for Madigan had been. I thought that was love. We were young, and I didn’t know anything but her. Now, I see the difference between what I feel for you and what I felt for her,” Gannon touches my cheek. “Blake, I don’t think there’s anyone else in this world that could ever make me feel the things I feel when I’m with you.”
The truth in his eyes melts
my heart. It was stupid for me to think I was his second choice. There’s obviously more that he’s not ready to tell me about his history with Madigan, but that’s okay. We’ve only just started our story, theirs ended years ago. I lean in and kiss him slowly. I have no intentions of letting this get out of hand, I’ve got a blog post to write about Menlo Castle. As if on cue, his cell phone rings from the nightstand. Gannon sighs with his forehead resting against mine.
“Hold that thought,” he whispers, kissing me once more before he answers the phone.
I can’t help but laugh at him when I turn my attention back to my computer. Before long, I’m lost in writing. Gannon is murmuring in the background, so I put my earbuds in and turn on my favorite playlist.
To Grandpa,
I don’t even know where to start. I’m in Galway with Gannon. He brought me here to show me Menlo Castle, the ruin that was once occupied by grandma’s great grandparents. It was magnificent. The experience of being there, thinking about the tragedy that drove them from their home, filled me with a strange mixture of feelings.
Nothing can describe how incredible it was. I wish there was a way to see what it was like before the fire. I imagine that it was once a well-kept, beautiful monument to the wealth and power of the Blake family. When the fire raged through it, all that it left behind was an empty and charred shell. Over the years, as nature began to overtake the crumbling walls, it slowly became an enchanting place.
Now that I think about it, Menlo Castle is a lot like me. I was once whole and happy. Then something struck me down and left me feeling empty. But things change. Something I didn’t anticipate has helped me to be rejuvenated. I no longer feel like an empty husk. I think I’m on the way to becoming whole.
You helped me get here, grandpa. Because of you, I’ve found love and support in my life when it’s been missing for so long.
With love,
Blake
Just as I hit “post”, Gannon taps me on the shoulder. When I turn to look at him, I feel instantly panicked. The color has drained from his face. A sheen of sweat covers his forehead. The phone in his hand is still showing who the caller was. Pat. My panic level increases as I run through all the possibilities of what may have happened in Kinnitty to cause Patrick to call and leave Gannon in this state. Had something happened with Pat’s wife? I know she’s carrying their second child, but she isn’t due for months. No, I don’t think Patrick would have called to tell him something like that. My mind immediately wanders to Aoife. Who else would she have in Kinnitty if we’re not there? Obviously, she’s lived there her whole life and has people to look out for her, but the first person they’d notify if she was in peril would undoubtedly be Gannon.
I start to travel down a darker path, thinking about the threatening letter I received from Old Roald just the other day. Could he have tried something, thinking I was home? What if he vandalized the B&B or burned down my cottage? All those thoughts raced through my mind in a matter of seconds before I finally found the words to ask Gannon what happened.
“I’m sorry to do this, love, but we need to get back home. Tonight.”
The finality in his words freaks me out, “What happened? Is everyone okay? Tell me no one is hurt.”
“No! No, it’s nothing like that. There’s an issue with the pub that I have to attend to,” Gannon runs a hand through his hair as though the thought of whatever is waiting for him is too much to take.
“Did Old Roald do something?”
Gannon shrugs, “I can’t say for sure. Patrick said a number of the windows were broken.”
The knot in my stomach tightens to the point that I fear I may burst from the tension. Having Old Roald attack Molly and me was bad enough. The idea that he would lash out against Gannon because of me terrifies me. How long will it be before Gannon decides I’m not worth the trouble? I know he loves me, but this is still so new, and it wouldn’t be hard to walk away. I wouldn’t blame him. I take a deep breath, right now, my only option is to push my fears aside and throw my things in my suitcase. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen. Maybe having Gannon square off with Old Roald is what needs to happen to get this man to leave us alone.
“I’m sorry, Gannon,” Blake says quietly as she stands next to me.
We’re surveying the damage at the Wolfhound in the morning light. Pat boarded up the broken windows as soon as the damage was discovered, so the pub looks like it’s ready to weather a severe storm. I know Blake blames herself, but there’s nothing either of us can do about Old Roald until someone takes his behaviors seriously.
“Blake, this isn’t your fault. Roald is a wanker,” Pat tells her.
There was a time when I’d have thought vandalism was below Old Roald. With recent interactions, I know that simply isn’t true. Since I recently learned that he was physically and emotionally abusive to his family, I know he’s not worried about the repercussions of terrorizing others.
I’m not worried about the cost of fixing the damage. My primary concern is whether or not the old bastard will become bolder in his actions against Blake. I refused to let her go to her cottage when we returned late last night. The possibility that Old Roald could have some nasty surprise waiting for her there was too high. We still haven’t made our way over there. The pub was our first stop after breakfast, and we’re still staring at the boarded windows now. Blake is keeping her distance. I know she’s got a lot on her mind and she’s probably unsure of letting others know that we’ve made things official between us. All I really want now is to feel her close to me, to reassure her that I could never blame her for what someone else has done. The tears brimming in her eyes tell me she isn’t going to believe that right now.
“I think I’m going to head to the B&B and check in with Aoife. I’ll see you guys later,” Blake’s voice is shaky.
We look at one another, she’s pulling away from me. I can’t let that happen. I close the distance between us and take her in my arms. The kiss I boldly leave on her lips is the first public display of our new relationship status in Kinnitty. When I release her, Blake gives me a small smile and rolls her eyes at Pat. When I turn around, Pat is practically jumping up and down like an excited puppy.
“Alright, knock it off,” I tell him as I walk past him toward the front door.
“I knew you took her to Galway to seal the deal!” Patrick said, “I’m happy for you, mate.”
“Listen, I didn’t take her to Galway to seal anything. We’ve been heading in the same direction for weeks, we both just decided to stop holding back.”
“I’m going to let you pretend I didn’t have anything to do with this, but we both know I talked some sense into you while she was in Belfast. You needed the push. Maybe Molly did the same for Blake,” Patrick shrugs before heading to the back room.
“You’ll believe whatever you want, either way, Pat!”
I know he’s right. If he hadn’t pointed out just how different things have been for me since meeting Blake, I probably wouldn’t have gotten up the nerve to really go for it. Though, there may be some truth to his statement about Molly talking to Blake. Part of the reason I felt bold enough to pursue Blake was a result of her call to me that night. She may have been inebriated, but Blake knew what she was doing when she called me.
It takes longer than I hoped to arrange everything at the pub so we can still have business as usual. We can’t close down the Wolfhound on a Friday night. Part of me wonders if that was what Old Roald was hoping would happen. The Garda won’t be at the station until Monday. I was instructed to take pictures of the damage and see if I can round up any witnesses. Since Pat found the windows broken when he arrived to open the pub, I’m not sure who may have been around. My first visits are to some of the surrounding businesses that may have been open. By the time I’ve finally done everything I can for today, it’s late afternoon.
I haven’t heard from Blake since she left, and I’m worried that she’s wallowing in undeserved guilt. She said she wanted
to go check in with my mum, so I make my way over to the manor house and go right inside. There’s evidence that new guests have arrived, but it appears as though everyone is out exploring. Blake may have gone to her cottage. Before I can cross the spacious grounds surrounding the house, I hear a voice call my name. I whirl around, thinking I’ll find Blake returning from a walk, but my eyes land on my mum.
“Gan, when did you get back? How was Galway?”
As much as I want to talk to Blake, I’ve always made time for mum. She’s doing something in the shed between the manor house and cottage. It’s still too cold to be working on the garden, so I’m not sure what she’s working on now.
“Galway was lovely. We had a nice time. I took her to Menlo Castle,” I stop short as the memory of our time there catches me again.