I press my lips together and shake my head. “No. That’s all me,” I admit, my voice quiet because he’s right. I’ve been a terrible employee. I don’t think I’m cut out for the restaurant business at all. Maybe I should work with kids instead, they’re really the only idea that seems interesting to me…
“Well,” he says, giving me a pointed look. “Show me you’re responsible, and then I’ll start trusting your judgement. Until then, you might want to bring this boy to the restaurant to meet me. I don’t like the idea of you sneaking around with someone I don’t know about.”
“No,” I say quickly. “I mean, there’s no boy. This was all just a hypothetical. I was…I was reading an article online, and it got me thinking.”
He looks at me for a long time, that look he uses when he thinks I’m lying and is trying to read the truth in my eyes. It makes me sweat, but I stare right back, willing my expression to remain blank. “OK,” he mutters. “If that’s the case, I’ll leave you to get some rest.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, smiling at him as he closes my door and his footsteps retreat back downstairs. The moment I’m sure I’m alone, I lie back on the bed and close my eyes. That was stupid. Now dad is going to be watching me even closer than he was before. And for what? Cillian doesn’t want me, anyway. I’m tired of everyone telling me I’m still just a kid. Well…I’ll just have to show them that I’m not.
Cillian
I don’t know how many times I’ve typed out a message, or how many times I’ve deleted it now. But once again I’m hitting the back button, erasing the whole thing. As much as I want to apologize, messaging Hazel won’t do a single bit of good. All it will do is pick at an open wound I’m responsible for creating in the first place.
I hate what I did to her. I hate the way I spoke to her. But at the time, it felt like the only way.
In truth, I would never take a woman to bed then discard her like yesterday’s news. It’s just not in me to be like that. I’ve had a handful of meaningful relationships in my lifetime, zero flings, because I’m an all or nothing type of guy. I lied through my teeth to hurt her. And I hate hurting people.
Which is why it’s tearing me up inside each time I picture the pain I put in Hazel’s eyes. It’s like the image is etched on the inside of my eyelids, and every time I close them, it’s all I can see. I feel like a right cunt, and I can barely look at myself in the mirror. I keep telling myself it’s for the best. But as the days roll by, I wonder if maybe I just took the easy way out. Getting her to hate me was the fastest way to put a stop to whatever was going on between us. But now I just feel empty and alone.
I know it was selfish of me. I do. But I don’t want to lose my job. I’ve worked my entire life to get to where I am. And I’m so close to getting what I want. I can’t throw it all away now. Especially over a girl who is almost half my age. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? Of all the women in the world, I had to get a raging boner for her, my boss’s eighteen-year-old daughter. Fuck. I hate this.
As Saturday rolls around, I haven’t seen or heard from her at all. I’m relieved and anxious at the same time. On one hand, I keep checking my phone, hoping for a message or a missed call from her, and I’m constantly hoping I’ll run into her at work. But on the other, I’m glad she’s staying away. I don’t know that I’m strong enough to push her away again. Not after how badly I wanted her at that farm. I almost lost control. And I don’t know how much I have left.
Lining tickets up on the kitchen side of the food warmer, I call out the dishes that need plating up, glad for a busy night to keep my mind occupied. Just as the height of service starts to wane, Rosalee comes in and tells me I’m wanted in George’s office.
My heart jumps into my throat. “Did he say what it was about?”
She shakes her head. “He just said to come and get you. Said it’s urgent.”
Fuck. I run my hand over the top of my head before I remove my apron and get someone to take my place so I can go and face the music. I don’t know how the hell he found out what was going on, but if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say I upset his daughter a little too much and she’s broken down and told him. Great.
I was already an asshole. And now I’m going to be a jobless asshole.
I should’ve just claimed her like I wanted to. Then at least I’d have something worth losing my job over. Because she is worth it. I’m miserable without her.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask, tapping on George’s door to get his attention.
“Ah, yes, Cillian,” he says, barely glancing up at me. “Your brother called. Said you’re needed urgently at the pub.”
“The pub?” I frown. As much as my brothers give me shit for leaving the pub kitchen to work in a fancy restaurant, they’ve never called me away from work. Now my stomach is bottoming out too.
“Did he say—”
“He said nothing,” George says. “But he sounded concerned. You should probably get there fast. And take tomorrow off if you need it. Family first.”
“Thanks,” I say, backing away from the door before practically running out of the restaurant, the apron still in my hand as I sprint towards Kelly’s hoping to god nothing terrible has happened.
When I get inside, the strings of Irish pop music hits my ears, coupled with crowded chatter. The place is as busy as it always is, Branagan standing behind the bar pulling a beer like I didn’t just get an urgent call and come racing here in a fecking panic.
“Bran!” I gasp, out of breath as I place both hands on the bar and meet his eyes in question. “What the fuck?”
He holds up a finger as he finishes serving. Then he grabs a shot glass and a bottle of Grey Goose, filling the glass and placing it in front of me. “Drink,” he instructs.
I frown. “You pulled me out of work on a Saturday night to come and get drunk on top-shelf vodka?”
“No. But once you see why I called you, you’ll be wanting that to calm you down.”
“What in heaven’s name are you talking about?” I barely finish my sentence before a squawk of laughter catches my attention. Bran nods to the space over my shoulder and I turn toward the noise, half knowing what I’m about to see before my eyes find it. Still, I’m not quite ready for the vision I’m delivered. “What the actual fuck, Bran?”
“Want this yet?”
When I turn back to him, he’s holding the vodka out to me. I take it and down it in one gulp, the back of my throat burning as I try to calm the seething rage building inside me. “Jesus, Mary and…” I stop and close my eyes, pressing my thumb and forefinger against the bridge of my nose. “How could you let her get like that? She’s eighteen.”
“Wasn’t me, brother. She was like that when she got here. I called you right away since I’m assuming this is your mess.”
“Fuck,” I breathe, my entire body shaking as I try to get control before I approach her.
“You need to get her out of here, Cill,” he states. “She’s making a scene.”