Old habits die hard, though, and Tiernan and I remember. Everything. Nights our bellies gnawed with hunger for we had no food in the house. The lewd, manky men my mother brought home, not even bothering to hide the fact she slept with them for drugs. The filth and squalor we lived in. It was an unspoken rule that if you lived in Stone City, you never left, that you remained mired in destitution and that you did not rise above. Those who did were never forgiven.
We broke that rule. But we haven’t forgotten.
We never had birthday parties. Our birthdays were any old day for my mum. There were no cakes, no presents, and certainly no fancy celebrations.
We weren’t made to feel special, and I suppose when you’re raised like that, it’s difficult to believe that you are.
“I don’t deserve this,” I whisper. “I don’t, Tiernan.” I’m not fishing for a compliment. I need his assurance.
He puts his arm around my shoulder and gives me a sideways hug. “I know exactly what you mean,” he says. I’m grateful he doesn’t try to tell me I’m right or wrong, or to silence the inner critic in my head I’ve given voice to. He just understands. Sheena moved out when she was younger, and Sam was only a baby when we moved. But Tiernan and I remember it all.
“Do it for them,” he says with a rakish grin. “You know the McCarthy family will do damn near anything for an excuse to party.”
I smile. They will. The women especially love a reason to spread tables with food, pipe music through speakers, and kick up their heels.
“Who’s there?” I ask. For some reason, Tiernan doesn’t meet my eyes, but shades his and looks in front of us.
“Oh, looks like loads,” he says. “Maybe they’ll even let you have a drink tonight, eh?”
“Maybe,” I say quietly, but I’m still hung up on his evasive answer. Maybe he knows there’s one person I really want to see.
“There she is!” Cormac’s booming voice carries through the air, and cheers erupt as everyone turns to face me. I’m so grateful Tiernan’s with me.
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath, but I don’t get a moment’s reprieve. In the next second, the whole swarm of McCarthys surrounds me. Nolan and Sheena with my younger brother Sam, Nolan’s brother Cormac and his wife Aileen, Clan Chief and eldest brother Keenan with his wife Caitlin and their children. Maeve, the clan matriarch, her arms laden with flowers and all the little toddlers at her heels. She’s like the pied piper, and they follow her everywhere.
“Happy birthday, love,” she says, kissing my cheek. “I know you hate surprises, but I couldn’t bottle them up.” She rolls her eyes, but I know she loves it.
I give her a brief hug, both to silently thank her and for a bit of quick assurance. She hugs me back and whispers in my ear, “You deserve this. We love you.”
I swallow hard. Maeve is mum to all in the clan, and I’m no exception. I love her for it.
I scan the crowd, and can’t help but grin in spite of myself. Wow. So many are here. Carson and cousin Megan, with little Breena holding their hands. Nolan joins Maeve and kisses my cheek.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he says. He’s been something between a father figure and older brother to me since he and Sheena adopted us. I lean into him and give him a massive hug, squeezing him around the neck.
“Thank you,” I tell him, and my voice is a little shaky. I hope he knows it isn’t just the party I’m thanking him for.
Tiernan joins his brothers, and the band they’ve hired kicks up. Before long, I’ve got a pint in my hand while I watch the children dancing up a storm. I’ve got a plate heaped with food, and I sit at a little white table with Nolan and Sheena.
I keep scanning the crowd and pretending like I’m not. I wait for Nolan to join his brothers for a pint before I speak in a low voice to Sheena.
“Sheena,” I say quietly. “Many are here, but not… not all?”
She sighs. Why does she sigh? “He’s here.”
Why is her voice tight? And dammit, how did she know exactly who I’m looking for?
Whatever. I’ll go with it, then, because I want to know.
“Where is he, then?”
He hasn’t come to see me, to greet me, or to wish me a happy birthday. His absence only confirms my biggest fear.
Though I’ve experienced vivid, visceral pain, unrequited love may be the most painful.
Sheena jerks her head toward the very back of the tent to where the green grass and flowers lead to the fullest part of the garden.
And then I see him. He’s got one hand in his pocket, the other holding a pint, but he doesn’t sip. And he’s staring out beyond the garden to the depths of the Irish Sea.
I’m on my feet before I know it. Trembling.
“Fiona?”
I walk away from Sheena. I don’t want my older sister’s admonition, not now. I don’t want her warning or a lecture. Sheena’s been as good to me as a mum, but there are things she doesn’t know.
When I’m only paces away, he turns to me.
Lachlan McCarthy. Though he isn’t one of the sons of Seamus McCarthy, he’s related by blood, second cousins. He’s so tall he has to duck to bend under the loping branches of the willows, his large frame dwarfing the small, private space. He’s grown into manhood over the years, no longer the young, jovial youth I met when I was a child. A scruff of a beard lines his sharp jaw, and his muscles are harder and more defined, but his sharp, endless hazel eyes are the same. My heartbeat races and my mouth goes dry. Never in my life have I met a man more beautiful, more rugged, or sexier than Lachlan.
Lachlan looks my way, and a muscle twitches in his jaw.
Why does he look so angry?
My heart sinks. I wish I hadn’t come over. I’d nearly resigned myself to unrequited love.
He’s a man of the Clan, and a high-ranking one at that. And I’m just—just a girl.
But Lachlan’s my friend, and has been ever since the day he joined the others in rescuing me from Stone City.
Just a friend.
My heartbeat accelerates just being near him. Normally, I wouldn’t even have the courage to come this close, he intimidates me so.
I wonder now if I’ve imagined the way he’s looked at me. The way he’s gone out of his way to protect me, to teach me the ways of the Clan. Is it just a schoolgirl fancy that he has any feelings for me at all?
I can still remember the first day we met.
I was only a child. Thirteen years old, trapped in the hovel of a kitchen in my home, surrounded by squalor and filth. He came in with his brothers, fellow men of the Clan. He barely fit in the doorway, and his eyes met mine across the room. He’d come to rescue us.
“Hey,” he said. “Name’s Lachlan. What’s yours?”
I’d never talked to such a hot guy before. He was a powerful, masculine force of nature, handsome even then, long before he grew into the man he is today.
I opened my mouth to speak, then looked to Sheena. Could I trust him?
“Go on,” Sheena said to me. “It’s okay.”
“Fiona,” I whispered. It took effort to say my name.
“’Tis a beautiful name.”
It was a brief conversation, but I never forgot it.