Page 101 of After Indigo Irish Nights
Sometimes he hated when Eoghan called him that.
“Go gcuire dia an t-ádh ort, Declan,” Donal said and let himself out.
He’d take all the luck he could get. He paced some more and drank his final allotment of water before the fight. His heartbeat ticked like Eoghan’s ancient timepiece, wrapped around his bony wrist. He was going to go crazy.
“Tell me about your new girl, Eoghan,” he said, desperate for the distraction. “The one you took a fancy to in France.”
The older man’s face turned up like wattage on a lightbulb. He lowered back into his chair as if settling in for a long talk. “A fine way of passing these moments, I’d be thinking. Her name is Sandrine, and she works for Sophie Giombetti, the artist we’re hoping to bring here. We’ve talked every night on the phone.”
Declan angled a chair across from the man and sat down, planting his hands on his knees. “Has she agreed to be your girl yet?”
Eoghan got a gooey smile on his face. “She has and is eager to join me here in Ireland. Declan, my boy, I’m in love. I swear these passions have been deeply buried for decades, since my poor wife passed away. It’s a marvel to feel this way again. But you know that for yourself. Isn’t love wonderful?”
“It is at that,” he said, his mind filling up with an image of Kathleen, her brown eyes alight with tenderness. “Love looks good on you, Eoghan. Tell me more.”
For a while, he put away all thoughts of what was awaiting him outside the green locker room. Except his father opened the door not long afterward, sheet white. Declan immediately stood.
“What is it, Dad?”
He closed the door slowly and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Son, we debated over telling you something fierce, but the crowd is buzzing with— There’s no easy way to say it.”
His stomach dropped to the floor.
“Owen Kincaid is telling anyone who will listen that Morag slept with Jimmy before your last fight.” His father gripped the back of his neck. “Declan, I suspected something odd but not with Jimmy himself—”
“Believe it then from my own mouth,” he ground out, anger searing his very skin. So he’d been right to fear Owen and Jimmy—only he’d been their target this time and their weapon had been disgrace. “Goddammit! He won’t rest until I’m humiliated before the entire village publicly.”
Kathleen would hear now. Everyone he knew. He couldn’t take it, them knowing what a fool he’d been. Being laid out like gossip, it would be sifted over like old belongings.
He started toward the door, but Eoghan moved over to stand beside his father to block him. “No, my boy. It’s a cowardly way to throw off your balance but going off half-cocked as a mad lunatic before the fight isn’t the way. Save it for the ring.”
Turning around, he gripped the chair he’d vacated. Then he lifted it up off the ground. He was close to heaving it against the wall before reason prevailed. He set it back down. He’d known Jimmy would pull something dirty, but somehow he hadn’t expected this. More fool he.
He sucked in a breath, telling himself to be grateful Kathleen had been safe from them. That had to be a comfort in this moment.
“Let’s wrap your hands and put your gloves on,” Eoghan said, coming toward him, his wrinkled face lined with pity. “We don’t want you hurting your hands before the fight, now do we?”
He wanted to bury his head in his hands. How was he supposed to hold his head up after this? No man wanted his family and friends to know that his fiancée had slept with another man, least of all his most bitter rival. “Dad. Is Kathleen out there?”
Eoghan paused in reaching for his gloves. They shared a look before his father nodded. “She is to be sure, son. Of course she’d be here, cheering you on. Now, she’ll understand—”
“What?” he demanded. “That Jimmy made a fool out of me? He’s disgraced me in front of the entire village. The woman I love. You don’t know what I’m feeling. What I’ve felt since Jimmy whispered that news to me moments before our last fight began.”
Eoghan made a very Irish sound and crossed himself. “The devil will surely be waiting for him in hell for such a thing.”
“Declan, he’s a small man,” his father told him, crossing and laying both of his hands on his shoulders. “People know who you are. They respect you. Don’t you forget that, Declan McGrath. I’ll be leaving you to prepare yourself. Knock Jimmy Slavin’s head off, will you?”
He swallowed thickly and nodded, watching as his father let himself out.
Declan eyed the door. On the other side was a world of people who knew his deepest and darkest secret, the one he’d never wanted to be spoken. Jimmy had ruined that. He was going to pay.
Eoghan got him ready in silence. The ticking of the older man’s timepiece seemed to blare in Declan’s ears, so loud he wanted to throw open the door and rush out.
Not to escape. No. Only to be alone. He tapped his foot on the concrete floor to a different beat to cover up the sound of the clock.
“I’ll give you some time to yourself now, I’m thinking,” Eoghan said, rising. “I’ll only be outside if you need anything.”
Alone in the silence at last, he could lower his head into his gloves.
