Page 70 of Devilish Ink

I patted my friend’s hand over the umbrella. He looked distant for a moment, but then shook it off.

“Really,” he said, the tightness falling away from his voice, “why not stay in Dublin? The parlour could use your talent. Even with me back.”

I was quiet. Rian didn’t know how complicated the answer to that simple question really was. How much I wished it were different.

“I mean, I know you said it was just to cover my chair, keep it warm,” he continued, oblivious to the sting in my jaw, “and I know there’s that big old world out there to explore, but…”

Don’t say it.Please, don’t say it.

“…but Ireland is your home, Ry,” he said.

Home.

I swallowed thickly.

“Dublin Ink could be your home,” he said. “Me and the boys. Aurnia. Rachel. Eithne. Home, Ry.Home.Don’t you want a home?”

I remained silent as we ascended the steps to his apartment.

“What are you chasing out there all alone?” he asked.

It was the wrong question.

The right question was what was I running away from?

Under the small canopy in front of the door, he closed the umbrella as I pawed through my bag for keys, avoiding his eyes.

Rian grabbed my upper arm and turned me round to face him. His eyes still held the clarity of sobriety, but now they were laced with something far too close to a drug: love.

“Ry,” he said, fingers squeezing my shoulder, “when Mason and Conor dragged me out of that hellhole, I didn’t think it was possible. To find home again. I thought… I thought I would always be lost. Always be on the outside looking in…”

He dropped his eyes for a moment and I grabbed his hand.

“I thought there’d been too much damage done,” he admitted. “I thought the best that could happen was a few sober weeks and then a relapse. And then that would be it. That I was just…too broken.”

His throat worked as he swallowed back emotion. I squeezed his fingers. He did the same back. The rain fell heavier, a curtain around our intimacy.

“But I learned home is not something you earn,” he said at last, cupping my cheek. “It’s something you accept. A gift you take. And hold onto the best you can.”

Rian searched my eyes. He wanted to know if I understood.

I did. I wanted—so desperately wanted—Dublin to be my home.

I wanted to tell him everything. What had happened. Why I left. The nightmare that was haunting me.

But my throat wouldn’t work, my lips frozen. Instead of speaking I just nodded.

For a second, disappointment crossed Rian’s face. I hadn’t opened up. But that was replaced with acceptance.

“No matter what, Ry,” he promised, “I’m here for you.”

Rian pulled me into a hug and I let him, turning my head to the side to rest my cheek on his chest.

That’s when I saw him. Collar turned up. Pale as a ghost. Alone in the rain, staring at us as if I’d betrayed him.

Lee.

LIAM

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