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I took a deep breath, fighting the sudden urge to walk out. Sometimes crowds became more suffocating than I could handle, and the bar was full of burly men tonight. “Do you realize it’s taken me months to keep from bursting into tears every time I walk into a room full of people? Do you know how many times I almost jumped off the highest platform on the rig, hoping the turbulent waters of the great ocean would take me to a moment of peace? The only reason I didn’t was because… because of my father and Aiden. Otherwise, I’d be lying in the second gravesite next to my husband. You know, the one who died because God doesn’t give a shit about me and certainly didn’t about him?”
The slight uptick in my voice was still drowned out by the raucous laughter of the three dozen men inside the claustrophobic joint.
“You’re a Debbie Downer tonight,” Fallon huffed.
“Fuck off,” I told her, only half playfully. I could tell by her sigh she continued to be worried about me.
“Oh, honey,” she said quietly as she placed her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. I know it’s been rough but maybe, just maybe living is exactly what you need to do.”
“Someone will need to explain to me one day in a step-by-step manner how I’m supposed to accomplish that. Surviving is just dandy by me. And all things considered, especially after what happened to my father on top of everything, I think I’m doing a pretty damn good job.”
“I didn’t mean anything by that.”
I closed my eyes briefly, uncertain I could handle the extreme testosterone in the place. “I know. I just… Just let me do this my way. It’s the only way I know how to heal. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Maybe she’d stop bringing it up. I knew I was a fuck-up as a human being, but I truly was lucky I hadn’t fallen completely to pieces. I wasn’t as strong as everyone believed me to be. They weren’t forced to hear my raging sobs or my cursing to the heavens about the horrible suffering. The loss. The missing. The angst.
The fear.
They didn’t know.
“Uh-oh. You’re being checked out like a piece of meat,” Fallon said, now in a singsong voice. Now that I could handle.
“Hmmm…” I scanned the area, shoving the sadness aside.
“Aye. She’s a stunning looker but I’ve heard she has a tongue of a serpent.”
I was used to the taunting words of men almost wherever I went, especially when I frequented a pub or other bar considered a man’s hub. My reputation preceded me in most locations, especially since my father was well known in Cork.
And not always favorably.
He’d rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, just as I was currently doing. So what?
As soon as I turned my head, one would have thought I had flames erupting from my throat by the way two of the men shifted backwards. “Yeah. Crack on the lot of you,” I snarled, even baring my teeth in a vicious manner and howling like a wolf. Why not? I was in the mood for some mischief. Telling them to move on wasn’t going to work. I knew that better than most. I’d been the brunt of jokes for years.
The reason could be because of the profession I’d been wrangled into, but the ocean was in my blood. My father had once told me I’d been born at sea, my blood infused with salt water. I liked to think it added a little magic to the O’Rourke surname.
Even if I was a girl and I continued to go by my married name.
“Don’t mind them, girlie. They’ve got their dicks in a vise,” Fallon huffed from beside me.
“Whoa,” two of the jerks said at the same time.
I gave both men a hard onceover, flipping several of my long strands of hair. “You sure you can even see their dicks? I heard they’re pretty small.”
“What a little bitch.”
“Hey,” I barked. “Careful, boy. I might challenge you to an arm-wrestling match.” While the banter was mostly in good fun, there were times I hated being the brunt of their jokes. I tossed another dart, hitting the bullseye for the third time in a row.
“Not a girlie girl,” the ringleader of the group of them said. I’d known Rory for as long as I could remember. We hated each other, although he’d tried to get into my tight jeans on several occasions.
“Feck off.” I lifted my middle finger in appreciation of his Neanderthal style.
“What’s gotten into you tonight?” Fallon asked as she leaned against one of the standing tables, watching while I walked to grab the darts from the board.
“Nothing. Why?” I was doing my best to adhere to my sister’s advice.
