Page 59 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

It’s my thinking that we’ll be reviewing said document within a matter of days because it’s clear Sophia wants me any way she can have me, and it would seem her brother wants my offspring even more.

The O’Connell Home, Darling, New York

It’s been one day since Sophia paid me my visit. I’m expecting the contract to arrive from the Ruoccos imminently. At present, I have the upper hand, but I know it’s only until Sophia falls pregnant.

Then all bets are off.

Luciano will no longer need me for an alliance with my family when Sophia hands him his very own Duster heir. Achieving her desired result is not an act I’m looking forward to participating in, however, which speaks volumes about how much I detest the girl, given I’ve fucked my way across Manhattan.

It’s also been three days since Eoin and Jaine split up.

My eldest brother immediately took himself away to the containers to lick his wounds in private. No one’s seen him since. Jaine’s pretty much locked herself away in the safe space with the kids. She’s been working from home, so no one’s seen much of her either.

Is it a temporary split or permanent?

It isn’t easy to predict. They’re both stubborn. They’re both set in their ways. They’re both more alike than they realize, not that either would ever admit as much. Neither will back down. They’re extremists. It’s either black or white with them both.

What they need is an infusion of grey—something to balance them out.

He wants to protect and possess her, and she wants neither. He’s trying to tame the untamable.

Eoin always left the handling of the MC side of things to Cillian, so he has no real experience when it comes to dealing with bikers. What he doesn’t realize is that they’re a different breed. They’re free spirits. Jaine will never be a mobster’s moll. She will never be content wearing finery and being surrounded by the luxury and trappings of wealth.

Like Molly would. Like Sophia would.

Given her vast personal wealth, Jaine doesn’t need a man to provide her with such comforts. She needs so much more. Eoin’s been trying to squeeze a square peg into a round hole, and for the first time in his life, something’s backfired on him. I knew better than to attempt to change her, as did Ace.

I think back to the recent meeting. She’s clearly never told Eoin about her alter-ego, and now I suspect I know why. Subconsciously or otherwise, she’s had doubts.

About him. About their relationship. About their future together.

It’s evening when I knock on the door to the safe space.

If Sophia has it inserted into the contract, I’ll have no choice but to cease face-to-face contact with Jaine. Maybe even all communication. At least temporarily, and until Sophia’s pregnant.

I need to speak to Jaine before then. To make sure she’s okay. To be there for her if she needs someone to talk to or vent at. Because it’s true what I said in the meeting. Idoknow Jaine Jones almost as well as she knows herself.

Her life raft. Her sounding board. Her confidant.

I was all three for her once upon a time, as she was for me. I want to offer to be all of those things for her today if she needs me to be.

The door swings open.

“Irish.” It’s barely audible.

Does she have a nickname for Eoin? Ace had one. I have one.

I have so many unanswered questions, but now is not the time because if I ever doubted Jaine’s love for my eldest brother, then I was wrong to.

In three days, she’s lost weight, her eyes are red, and she’s pale. I’m not sure how it makes me feel. That I was never her first thought or her last thought every day like he clearly is, so letting me go didn’t make her weep.

She was able to walk away from me without a backward glance or second thought because she never loved me the way she loves him.

My heart physically aches in my chest at the realization. That I was never enough. That I was never her end game the way she was mine.

“Are the kids in bed?”

She nods.

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