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I looked back over my shoulder as I brushed tears from my face. My vision was blurred by tears, but could it really be him? Here?
“Hi.” Adam’s hands were at his sides as if he was trying to keep his cool and remain casual before my mom. He looked out of place in here, even though he was wearing jeans and a navy T-shirt. Although I had told him not to come, all I wanted to do was run to him and tuck myself inside his arms.
I pushed off my knees and up to my feet, worried that my legs would buckle and I’d collapse. “You came.”
“I wanted to be here for you.” He took a small step forward and hesitated, looking for a cue on how he should act around my mother.
I crossed the stable to meet him near the arched entrance, and I did the only thing that made sense. I pulled myself against him. A hiss escaped his lips as his arms went to my back and held me tight. His hand cupped my head, his fingers slipping through my hair as I cried into his chest.
I was crying for Java, of course. But I think I was also crying for myself—for the tears I had never shed in front of my mother, for the truth I had kept bottled inside me. Only Java had known. He had been my only confidant.
“Anna?”
I stepped back from Adam, and his arms fell to his sides. My mother’s green eyes studied me, a mask of confusion swirling in the faint lines on her face. “What’s going on? This man said he knows you from Dublin?”
“Um.” I dragged my palms down my face and tried to catch my breath. My chest vibrated as the emotions continued to swell inside me.
My father was walking down the hill toward the stables.
My tall, strong, silver-haired father still thought of me as a six-year-old with pigtails. When I’d told him about my sudden decision to go to Ireland, he’d about lost his mind.
“And you might be?” My father crossed his arms, standing rigidly next to my mom. He must not have been in the house when Adam arrived.
“I actually work at the company Anna interns for.” Adam approached my dad and extended his arm.
My dad’s gray brows came together suspiciously as he eyed Adam’s arm.
I breathed a sigh of relief when their palms clasped.
“Adam actually does a little more than that.” My voice was raw from all my crying. “Adam owns the company. He’s Adam McGregor, as in McGregor Enterprises,” I said with pride in my voice.
“Since when do billionaires cross an ocean to visit an intern because her horse is dying?” My dad’s eyes were sharp on Adam, trying to stare him down, but Adam remained standing tall. His sexy Irish voice would have probably had my mom swooning if she weren’t mourning Java and worrying about me. “Anna’s special, as I am sure you are fully aware.” Adam tucked his hands in his pockets.
His response had my heart flipping in my chest.
“Hm. Well, I came down here to tell you the doc is in the house. I told him to give you a few more minutes before he comes down,” my father said in a low voice—completely shattering me.
* * *
The stable felt empty.
It wasn’t, of course. We had several other thoroughbred horses inside, but without Java, it wasn’t right. Even the other horses were in mourning. All were lying down with their heads tucked to their chests. They knew he was gone.
I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to come back here again.
I shut my eyes, and my mind drifted to memories of my time with Java. I remembered his power and strength—his beautiful soul. I could see it whenever he had looked me in the eyes. There were those who would say an animal doesn’t have a soul—well, I disagreed.
I looked out the window of the stable. The cool air on my arms was barely noticeable. I felt so numb.
Adam was stuck inside the house with my parents, but I knew he could handle my father. The man went toe-to-toe with business people all over the world and thugs in the ring.
But I needed to be alone.
The sun had set, the sky was dark, and there were no stars in sight. My world was tilted off its axis.
Something didn’t feel right, and it wasn’t only because of my loss.
I wasn’t “Kentucky Anna” anymore. I’d been in Dublin for five weeks now, and whether it was Dublin—or Adam—I had changed.
