“Best of luck, lass,” Keenan says, giving me a big brotherly hug. “It’s been a pleasure seeing you grow, how well you’ve done. You’ll take Boston by storm.”
I feel my cheeks flush a little. “Thank you,” I say bashfully. He’s Clan Chief, older than Nolan and Lachlan, and he’s stern but kind, with a decided paternal air about him.
“If you need anything at all, you just say the word. And you’ll always have a home here,” Keenan says. “I mean it, Fiona.”
I nod. “Thanks so much.” God, I love this family.
I’ve got a bank account and a debit card, and my belongings should be waiting for me on campus.
Sheena and Nolan drive me to the airport.
“I’ll miss you,” my little brother Sam says. His wide eyes look woeful, a shock of red hair falling across his forehead.
“I’ll call you all the time,” I promise. “And send you loads of things.”
He nods, but his tear-filled eyes make my own water.
I release a deep breath. I’m looking forward to a little freedom. A chance to spread my wings. My grief at what happened between me and Lachlan lingers, and will for some time, but right now, I’m trying to be hopeful.
“On the plane, your guard will be on your left and right,” Nolan says from the driver’s seat. And my mind comes to a screeching, stuttering halt.
“Excuse me?”
My guard?
He looks at me in the rearview mirror. “You know your guard will accompany you to Boston, don’t you?”
“Oh. Okay, and then leave me there, right?”
Sheena looks over her shoulder at me. “Of course not, Fiona. Are you out of your mind?”
“I’ll have a guard in Boston? Are you kidding me? Nolan, tell me it isn’t so!”
“Of course it is,” he says, half-glaring at me. “And why bloody not?”
I open my mouth, then slam it shut. I need to think before I speak. I sigh. “I just… didn’t know I wouldn’t have any freedom.”
“You’ll have freedom, lass,” Nolan says. “Promise. But you’ll also have protection. The McCarthy guard will bring you to school, and we’ve connections that will see to your guard at school.”
Of course I bloody will. I stifle a groan. Why didn’t I think of this?
“Alright, then,” I say. “Though I don’t know how that’ll work in my postage-stamp-sized bedroom.”
“We’ll make it work.”
I mumble under my breath but don’t respond. I don’t want to fight with him, not when he’s given so much.
When I board the plane, I recognize the suited guard, though thankfully they’re discreet. No one knows the man on my left and the man on my right bear McCarthy Clan ink and loaded weapons. I have no idea how they possibly got through security, but apparently, they have ways.
I can’t help it. I look around the plane for him, but he isn’t there.
Of course he isn’t. He’s away on international business.
Still, it feels as if someone’s watching me the entire flight to Boston. I tell myself it’s my guard, since they’re watching my every move, but it’s unsettling.
I’m exhausted when I get in, and I’m so thankful Tiernan’s waiting at the gate. I’ve missed him so. I run to him, and he gathers me to him in a big bear hug.
“Ah, look at you,” he says with older brother pride. “I’m so happy you’ve come here, Fiona. You’ll love Boston.”
It’s hard to love anything when you’re heartsick, but I’ll do my best. He takes my bags and leads me to the parking lot where a sleek black car awaits. Who’d have known this was where we’d end up? Two kids from Stone City, globe-trotting, their every need met.
Well. Almost every need. I can’t dull the ache in my chest.
“Aye, I bet,” I tell him. “Aisling’s going to show me around. Can you join us?”
“Wish I could,” he says. “But I’ve got work.”
“Ah. Next time.”
We chat easily about life at home, who he misses and how everyone is. Everyone but Lachlan. He doesn’t ask questions, and I don’t supply answers. I wonder if Sheena’s said anything to him about us.
I’m utterly shattered by the time we make it to the bustling, teeming campus. Aisling runs up to me, and I’m instantly enveloped in a sea of wild blonde curls. Tiernan grabs us both before we tumble to the ground.
“Easy, there,” he says. “Might not want to get a concussion your first day here, eh?”
Aisling lets me go and stares at him with wide eyes. “Fiona,” she whispers in a stage whisper. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing Tiernan with you. And you furthermore didn’t tell me how hot he got now that he’s all grown up and… hairy… and inked.”
I can tell he heard her by the way his lips twitch and he looks away, the way all the men of the Clan do to give you the illusion of privacy while they listen to every word and note every detail.
I snort. “First, since when is hairy sexy?”
“When he’s a bearded god of a man,” she moans.
“Jesus, get yourself a vibrator, woman,” I mutter. “Ew, that inked, hairy god of a man is my feckin’ brother. Tiernan met me at the airport, but believe me, he wants nothing to do with young folk like us.” I give him a teasing wink. “He’s got manly business to attend to.”
Her eyes rove over him, and for the first time in probably ever, I realize what he might look like to someone else. Tall and muscular, stern and unyielding, the very stance he takes imbued with latent power and strength. To me, he will always be my older brother, the one who’s looked out for me since the day I was born.
Though he’s only three and a half years my senior, it’s often felt as if he were much older, since he carried the weight of so much on his shoulders. At only sixteen years old, the men of the Clan welcomed him into the fold. He now stands as proud as any of them, trained in self-defense and the Irish martial arts, marked with McCarthy Clan ink.
Tiernan bends down and gives me another hug. “I’ll leave you two to do your… college thing,” he says with a grin. He winks at Aisling and to her utter horror, ruffles her fluffy blonde hair before he goes. “Check in, sis?” he says over his shoulder, and I know him well enough to know it isn’t a suggestion.
“Aye,” I say. “Will do.”
“Jesus, Fiona,” Aisling says, watching wistfully after Tiernan. “He’s bloody hot, isn’t he?”
I cringe. “Oh, God, shut it, Ais. Still my brother.”
“Don’t I know it,” she says with a sigh. “But it seems last time I looked at him, he was all gangly and freckly, no? Now look at him, all… muscles and ink.”
“All the men of the Clan are muscles and ink,” I say, immediately wishing I hadn’t, as my own bloody words conjure up the image of mesmerizing hazel eyes, powerful inked arms, and a lopsided grin that would melt my knickers.
I cringe harder. “Can we please stop talking about my brother?”
Or any men of the Clan, my mind supplies.
Aisling and I have been friends since I first moved to Ballyhock, and her very presence brings a touch of solace to the homesick pain of my heart. She knows I’m associated with the Clan, but I don’t think she’s ever fully processed what that means. In her mind, as in the mind of so many residents of Ballyhock, they’re sort of superheroes.