A weird feeling slid through me. “What do you mean what have I done to Maeve?”
“She’s allheppedup and causingructionsin your da’s study. Something about you, Paddy, and a fecking contract.”
My gut dropped like a lead weight, and my lungs tightened from the panic starting to grip my chest.
Jesus. Fuck, no.
“Tell me,” I urged, jumping out of bed and clicking my cell on loudspeaker before propping it up on the nightstand.
“I don’t fecking know,” Ma hissed. “She turned up here five minutes ago looking for Patrick. As soon as he came downstairs, she wentloo-lahat him. Something about the bar and a debt and a contract. What the hell’s going on, Callum?” Ma’s voice lowered to a whisper. “What did you do?”
I tugged on a tee, then hurried to my dresser for some sweatpants. “I’ll be there in five.”
“I’ve never seen her like this, Son,” Mam told me. “You better move your arse.” A click sounded, and I got dead air.
Parking my ass on the edge of the bed, I pulled on my sneakers, grabbed my keys and phone, and headed out. I raced down the stairs with my blood pounding in my ears at the thought of what was to come.
How did Maeve find out?
The bed was still warm from where she’d slept by my side, so how the hell could she have all the information about my fuck-up, when just minutes before, she was asleep next to me. While I was snoring my life away, my entire world had been imploding around me.
I ran out back to the courtyard, not even stopping to lock the doors behind me. Beeping the locks of my truck, I jumped inside, started the engine, and peeled outta there like a bat out of hell. Ma lived about seven minutes away to the north of town, not far from the gated community and the country club. I could do the journey in around four minutes if I put my foot down. I just hoped there were no cops out this early. The last thing I needed was to get involved in a high-speed car chase because I had nointention of stopping my truck until I held Maeve safely in my arms.
My gut filled with nausea, and bile rose through my gullet, but I tamped the sick feeling down, breathing through my nose and out my mouth. I had to keep my shit together, get to Ma’s without totaling my truck, and make sure Maeve was okay.
I rounded the corner to Mam’s street, wondering how the fuck Maeve even got there without me, when I saw Tristan’s canary yellow BMW 3 series parked outside.
“That answers my question,” I muttered sarcastically to myself, maneuvering my truck into a spot where I blocked Tris’s car. The last thing I wanted to do was give Maeve a means of escape. From what Mam said, my wife was mad as hell, and I understood why, but I couldn’t apologize and explain where my head was at if she kept taking off.
Cutting the engine, I threw the door open and jumped down, striding toward the house with my mouth set determinedly.
The front door flew open, and there stood my ma, glancing nervously over her shoulder and wringing her hands together.
“What’s going on?” I demanded, approaching her.
“Maybe you should tell me that?” Mam retorted, her eyes flashing as she watched me slip past her into the foyer. “From what I’ve heard, you, Patrick, and your da have been keeping some secrets, haven’t ya?”
That’s when I heard Maeve’s shriek come from Da’s study at the end of the hallway.
“Fifty grand? That’s all I was worth to you? Fifty measly grand?”
I scraped a hand over my jaw and muttered, “Shit.”
“Oh, Callum,” Ma breathed. “What did you do?”
I thought about lying to her, thought about trying to get out of it and smoothing things over, especially since she’d been struggling after Da’s death. But I couldn’t. Everything wascoming out now. The least I could do was be honest and hope the truth of what my aul fella had done to us didn’t send my beloved mother to an early grave.
“Da owed Patrick money,” I scraped out. “I had to marry Maeve, or I would’ve lost the bar.”
All the color drained from her face. “What?”
I jerked a nod. “Three hundred thousand. Paddy’s given me a year to repay it and knocked fifty thousand off the debt for Maeve’s dowry.”
I watched, fascinated, as the paleness of Ma’s skin turned an angry purple color. “That fecking lying bogger bastard,” she snarled. “That lying, manipulative weasel.” Her arm stretched out, and she pointed toward the study. “He’s fecking played ya. Him and your da, they both played ya, Callum, like a goddamned fiddle.” She swung around and stomped into the living room.
My mouth went slack, and I followed her, my brow furrowing in confusion while she went directly to the sofa where Tristan sat with a cuppa on the side table. “What do you mean they played me?” My eyes slid to Tristan. “What’s Maeve said?”
“I’m not talking to you,” he sniped. “You hurt my BFF.”