Page 11 of Dirty Eoin

Right now, she’s on the opposite coast having to go through all this alone at a time when she needs him more than ever. Her Irish. Her confidant.

It will be tearing her apart as it is him.

Thousands of miles may separate them, but still they maintain their connection. I felt it when they collided recently. Subconsciously or otherwise, their souls still cherish each other. Their intangible link may be thinner, more brittle, stretched to full capacity, but it’s there all the same. Both have stubbornly refused to let the other go. Both have insisted on clinging on. Both have offered a life raft to the other in this tempestuous sea of outlaw life, even if for the past two years it’s meant swimming through ever-increasing waves of lies and deceit.

But in a little over three weeks, he’ll be wed, and it’ll be game over.

And that’s when our Paddy will drown. When this connection they both cherish will be ripped apart whether they want it to be or not. When all they’ve shared will sink once and for all.

What’s going through his head now that the woman of his dreams is now a widow? Now, that she’s no longer married? If they wanted to, they could wed tomorrow. No one could stop them. No onewouldstop them.

There’s just one Sicilian fly in that ointment.

Sophia.

Then again, I’ve been selfish with Jaine. I’ve ignored my brother’s needs and focused on feeding my infatuation with her. I’m not proud of that fact, and I’m sure one day soon I shall have my comeuppance served to me by my youngest brother. Deservedly so.

I regret the past, but I can’t change it. I can only try to make amends and influence my future.

I turn my attention to my da. He’s in the winter of his life now, and still he has to come to work most days. He shouldn’t have to at his age. He should be spending every precious moment he has left with Ma and little Caoimhe.

“After our Paddy’s wed.” My firm words are stark against the blinding silence. I pause as they both turn to stare at me. “I will wed Molly McGrath as soon as possible.”

And I mean it.

It’s time for me to step up and do my Duster duty. Prepare for my future role as the next Irish king.

And for that, I need a wife.

CHAPTERSIX

JAINE

Rising Cemetery, Rising, California

As a child,I used to love the peace and tranquility this place offered and spent hours rubbing the moss off the older headstones to reveal the precious story the passage of time had hidden underneath. The inscribed final words silently spoken between the living and the dead, telling them how loved they were and how missed they’d be.

It’s been over two years since I buried my pop on this hallowed ground. Too young to die at fifty-eight, or so I thought.

But Ace. My beautiful boy will only ever be thirty-one years old.

I blink back tears as I sit cross-legged at his final resting place, my hands sifting the still unsettled soil through my fingertips. I never thought I’d be burying anyone else in our family plot. Not for a long time.

I guess God figured I only deserved to borrow Ace for a short while. That he wanted him back. That he needed that beautiful soul of his by his side more than I did.

More than his infant son did.

It doesn’t feel real. I keep thinking I’ll wake and find that it’s all a bad dream. Then I realize it’s not. That this is now my everyday waking nightmare.

I’m throwing myself a pity party because I’ll never get to see him again. I’m alive. Ace is dead. At least I’ll get to see our son grow up.

Tears flow freely. There’s no need to hide them here. There’s no one to witness one of my many moments of weakness and fragility.

It’s just me, Pop, and Ace.

Lifting my hand, I trace the scrolled letter A behind my left ear. I don’t need to see it to know its exact outline.

It’s forever inked on my skin, but also on my heart.

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