Page 56 of Dirty Eoin

The rest is personal.

The rest is between me and Eoin O’Connell.

St. Peter’s Church, Upper East Side, New York

I park up my hog, which I’ve had transported to New York. I figured I’d just use Ace’s whenever I’m back home in Rising. It’s not like he needs it anymore, and it’s not like I’ll ever allow anyone else to use it. It would be a crying shame for that classic never to be ridden again.

Taking off my helmet, I shake my hair free. Then, running my hand through its mid-back blonde length, I stare at the building I imprinted to memory the last time I was here.

This is all wrong. This is his place.

Regardless of how Irish feels about me now, it still feels like I’m betraying him. Not only by marrying his eldest brother, but by doing so in a building that he holds so close to his heart.

I’m glad he didn’t marry Sophia here.

Maybe one day this place could be for me and him.

I curse myself inwardly. It would seem I’m living in cloud cuckoo land with all the pipe dreams and wishful thinking that I’ve got going on given what I’m about to do.

It will never happen.

I stare up at the church, and a feeling of déjà vu washes over me.

Ancient grey stone walls and a spire that reaches into the night sky as though to part the very heavens themselves form the imposing building. The same bats as before flit playfully around my head as I raise my face and gaze up at a festoon of glittering stars. I inhale the same earthy smell of freshly dug soil. A smell that lets me know that the small graveyard with the uneven headstones has a few more permanent residents to help push up daisies.

The O’Connells should be grateful that, thanks to The Exterminator, it’s not their names on the newly-etched grave markers.

With a shaky breath and a heavy heart, I start my journey toward my doom. Do they have cameras trained on me?

Most likely.

They’ll no doubt be able to witness the dead woman walking as she drags her reluctant feet. That I’m doing this against my will, despite the speed with which I accepted.

But this isn’t about me. It’s about Fin. It’s about JJ. Among other things. What I want counts for nothing. What I’m about to do I have no choice in.

It’s all a means to a fitting end for a well-deserving individual.

I continue towards the most aged of imposing doors. They’ll all already be inside, I’m sure.

Watching. Waiting. Wondering if I’ll even show up.

Anger suddenly barrels through me at the unfairness of my situation. I didn’t ask for any of this. To lose Irish. To lose Ace.

It quickly dissipates, calmed by the realization that my forced desperate measures at least have a silver lining.

I place my hand on the black circular metal handle before turning it and pushing the door forward. It creaks loudly in protest, its weight pressing against me as though to keep me out before finally relenting and letting me in. It’s clear The Almighty doesn’t want me inside the walls of his place of worship.

This time around, it’s him and me both.

The bright lights inside contrast the darkness I leave behind as I once again take in the place that’s been a staple to Irish throughout his life.

My chest feels hollow. Empty. Tears prick my eyes. Full. Unlike last time, I can’t smell him. Unlike last time, I can’t feel him here.

But then, the connection we shared has gone. Ripped apart and tossed aside by him because after two years of deceit, he then decided that he no longer needed it, whereas I need it now more than ever.

He doesn’t miss me. He doesn’t love me. He loves her now. Sophia.

I told him I didn’t love him. That I never had. Would telling the truth back then have made any difference? The Dusters backed me into a corner until my freedom of choice was no longer my own.

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