Page 86 of Verses Of Us

“You have houses all over,” she replied, remembering a rumour that he owned five properties spread around the world.

He rubbed the back of his neck and turned his attention toward the fireplace tucked in a corner.

“Not anymore.” He busied himself preparing a fire, stacking some wood into the hearth. “I, um, had to sell them. This here’s my only home. I stay in hotels when I need a change, but that’s rare.” Dusting his hands off, he stood up, crossing his arms, his cream sweater stretching across his broad back, but kept watching the fire build, the flames flickering. “Things went sour a few years ago.” The low rumble of his voice lured her to his side. “I made some foolish mistakes. Almost lost it all.”

She reached for him, touching his arm, and felt him startle. “What happened?”

As he considered this, his glare slid from her hand up her chest, along her neck to rest on her face, then he tilted his head. “That’s better discussed over some pizza, don’t you think?”

TIPTOEING

Ciarán

Abreezewaftedupover the fields, bringing a chill with it, but Alexis looked anything but cold. In fact, she looked damn near at peace. Amber liquid swirled in her tumbler and caught the firelight as Ciarán added logs to the fire. Wrapped in a pair of his thick woollen socks, she rested her feet on the curved stone ledge of the fireplace.

Pulling his chair closer to hers, he sat down and lifted his pint of Guinness. “To new beginnings.”

She smiled warmly and met his glass with hers. “Is that what this is? A new beginning?”

Over lunch, he’d confided about his drinking and how it had become a crutch in his life and career. The drink was his way of dealing with what truly bothered him—his lack of say, the absence of trust he had in his entourage, but mainly his overall feelings of inadequacy. And as he’d expected, Alexis kept her mind and heart open, allowing him to let it all out, even the parts about how at his lowest he’d faced bankruptcy, but had been smart enough to sell everything before it was too late.

He told her about the program he’d found, the one that focused on healing and therapy. A program that had taught him there was no shame in losing possessions. His therapist taught him they weren’t his life’s work, only representations of it, and that’s what really mattered.

But he knew that wasn’t the only thing that mattered and when he admitted that to Alexis, that having her here was like old times, he noticed a gleam in her eye.

But those memories were the ever-present elephant in the room that kept knocking into things. And each time they skimmed over what was bothering her—what she wanted to say, but what he could tell she kept holding back—it returned. In every sigh and awkward silence that forced its way between them, he could see their past shoving in, too. They would need to talk about it, about him leaving, about the hurt he’d caused her, eventually, but until then, he kept chickening out.

“I hope this is the beginning of a new chapter for us, yeah.” Ciarán dropped his eyes to the fire. “Maybe we can find some things that made us great.”

She tilted her head. “I remember exactly what used to make us great,” she said, her tone heavy with implication. The alcohol was loosening her lips and turning her cheeks a beautiful shade of pink. “I think we found some last night.”

She laughed, sticking out her tongue in the cutest way. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“No, I don’t mean that. Thatwasgreat, but we had something extra, don’t you think?”

His hand landed on her knee, his thumb rubbing, but she jerked her leg away, a dark shadow dropping over her face only made worse by the shadows cast by the flickering flames.

She cleared her throat. “I guess.”

“I never found that extra with anyone else.”

“Then you haven’t tried hard enough.” A subtle dip formed between her eyes.

“Oh, trust me, I’ve tried.”

A warm blush ran up her neck and she moved in her seat as if no longer comfortable. A deep anxiety crept over him.

“Why are you saying this now?” she asked.

He shrugged, but he knew why. It had to come out, but he was terrified. Somehow, even if he had written hundreds of songs, he still couldn’t find the words.

“I’m only saying I’ve missed this.”

“Me too. It would have been nice…” She stopped talking, staring out at the fields.

“What would have?”

“Had it never ended.” She turned her gaze on him, her green eyes searching his.

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