Page 184 of Dirty Eoin

Who would have thought we’d ever see the day that Ma would appear happy about Eoin and Jaine spending time together.

So, Plan A. had some success, but it wasn’t the momentous occasion it could have been, but I guess this isn’t a movie. This is real life.

So, it’s on to Plan B.

I follow Eoin into his bedroom suite then quickly set up the laptop I’ve brought with me. A laptop that contains all the footage from when Jaine was at the hospital.

We had armed security outside the ward. Surely, she must have known that we’d also have surveillance installed throughout. He’s the future Da Duster. He’d just been shot.

He was never going to be left unattended without top-of-the-range security.

I guess what none of us realized was that he had the most lethal of guardians holding his hand and sitting by his bed the entire time.

I watch as he lies back on his bed. He looks fucked. This whole thing has knocked him for six.

“What are you doing, Dylan?” He huffs as he covers his tired eyes with the back of his hand.

“I need you to watch something. Or at least listen to it.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“It’s important, Eoin. Really important. I know you’re not feeling great. I know you’re tired. I’m not saying that you need to listen to all of it in one sitting, but you need to hear it. It’s about your Florence Nightingale.”

He removes his hand and frowns at me as I start playing the audio.

There’s a pause before it starts.

“I love you, Eoin. I sent you a message…it was from my burner, so you probably didn’t….”

I watch as he starts looking around. He’s searching for his phone because he can scarcely believe his own ears. He wants to see the physical proof. I can’t say I blame him.

I pass him his phone with a grin on my face.

Jaine:I love you.

“She’d obviously sent it just as you got shot, then when she got yours, she’s assumed that you’d never seen it or that you no longer cared, so she let you move on. Your happiness took precedence over her own. It always will. That’s just how Jaine works.”

“Shite.” He runs his hand through his hair. It’s difficult to describe how he looks.

Happy. Sad. Annoyed. Frustrated.

Hopeful.

“I should go to her.”

I sit on the edge of the bed. “This footage contains her whole life story. She knew that you wanted her to let you in and that she deliberately never did. So, now that’s exactly what she has done. She’s let you in. This is warts and all. She went to the effort of saying these things, so you need to take the time to listen. Watch it. Absorb it. Digest it. Find out who Jaine Jones really is and then go find her. Because she knows now that you know.”

“How?”

And then it dawns on him. “The song that was playing.”

“It was your song.”

CHAPTERFIFTY-EIGHT

JAINE

The O’Connell Home, Darling, New York

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