Page 3 of Aidan

“Let’s get going. I don’t want your head to get so big it explodes and I’m left cleaning up the mess.” Sorcha grins and hops off the stool.

Together we wipe down all the tables and stack the chairs on top of them. I sweep and mop while she does a quick inventory and double checks that the kitchen has been put to rights. At least the one employee she has is competent. She wipes her brow and sags against the bar. I stand next to her and lean back.

“Thank you for your help.” Sorcha shoulder bumps me.

“You’re welcome.”

Pounding footsteps filter through the ceiling and we both glance up. She tilts her head and glances over me. “I better go and make sure they’re not destroying anything up there.”

“Breakfast tomorrow?”

“Same place as usual. I’ll see you at nine.” Sorcha turns and hugs me. “I’m really glad you’re here, Aidan.”

I hold her for a minute, the faint scent of her coconut shampoo reaching my nose. She lets go and walks toward the door. I’m right behind her as she opens it, and I step out into the late evening air that brings with it the briny scent of fish and ocean water.

“Get some rest.”

“I will.” She gives me a small wave and then slowly closes and locks the door.

I stand there until the interior goes dark, and then I make my way down the street toward the small bed and breakfast where I’m staying. The tiny fishing village of Burtonport on the northwest coast is a far cry from Dublin. The people here keep to themselves. It’s the one place where I can disappear for a while when I need to get away from everyone. Andeverything.

No one here knows who I am. Or the family I belong to.

Not even Sorcha.

CHAPTER2

Sorcha

Aidan couldn’t have comeat a worse time. No matter how much I might want him here. I climb the stairs up to my family’s flat, alternating between wanting to cry and wanting to curse my Da the entire way. Except I can’t cry, because every time I do I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stop.

I reach the landing and the sound of the TV and arguing filters through the wood barrier. Taking a deep breath, I open the door. Kellen is sitting on the floor leaning against the sofa, while Carson sits on it and stomps his feet a couple times. They’re playing a video game and trash talking each other or whoever’s on the other end of their headsets. I step around to stand in their line of sight and both of them jerk their heads in my direction.

“Did you finish your homework?” I interrupt their game. I love my brothers, but I hate being their parent.

“Yes.” They nod and reply in sync then turn their attention back to the TV.

It’s a bald-face lie, but I’m too tired to call them out on it. Instead, I head to Aisling’s room. Her twinkle lights are lit and projecting shining stars onto the ceiling giving her room the appearance of an enchanted forest with the murals I drew on both it and the walls. I quietly walk over to the bed. She’s lying on her back, sleeping, and hugging the book she picked out for me to read to her.

I’d planned on being upstairs a little earlier, but tonight had been busy and even with Aidan’s help, it had taken longer to clean up than it usually did. Gently, I take the book from Aisling’s arms and bring the blanket up to her chin. She stirs and blows out a heavy sigh, but her eyes remain closed. I ghost a kiss over her forehead and go back out to the living area.

The twins have turned off their game in anticipation of me telling them it’s time to go to bed. They know they have school in the morning.

“Aisling said Aidan’s here,” Kellen says.

I nod. “He came in about an hour before the dinner crowd started trickling through the door. I’m sure he would have liked it if you’d come down to say hello.”

“We’ll see him tomorrow,” Carson adds. “We figured you’d want to spend some alone time with him tonight. Or at least as alone as you can with a pub full of people.”

My cheeks heat, which is ridiculous. The boys don’t have any idea about the stupid feelings I have for my best friend. We’ve been friends for five years, which isn’t long in the grand scheme of things. Especially since we only see each other when he comes to visit every four to six months or whenever he can get time off from work. But he’s been my closest and dearest friend during that time. Over the years, for various reasons, I’ve drifted apart from everyone else. Which is why I refuse to ruin our friendship by doing something as monumentally dumb as telling Aidan how I feel.

“You didn’t have to do that on my account, but thank you. Now, it’s time to go to bed, please.” I shoo them off. “And I’ll be checking your homework tomorrow.”

They wince and scuttle off to their room. Once they’re gone I grab a beer from the fridge and bring it back to the living room where I collapse on the sofa. I toe off my shoes, stretch my legs out in front of me, and almost sigh with relief. My feet ache and throb. What I wouldn’t give for a nice foot massage. After I’ve washed the stink off first, though.My back hurts along with them.

I take a sip of my beer and drop my head to the cushion behind me. Tears threaten, but I squeeze my eyes shut as hard as I can to push them back. Twenty-eight years old and I’m not only a parent to a pair of twelve-year olds and a six-year old, but the owner of a pub I’m probably going to lose. This place had been everything to my Da. Except he’s dead.

I didn’t just acquire kids and the pub. I also acquired debt I’ll never be able to repay. What was Da thinking? How am I supposed to keep this place running when I can’t afford to pay anyone to help me? How am I going to buy supplies with the ever rising costs? What am I going to do?

---