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Sucking in a sharp breath when my eyes landed on his gaunt, beautiful face, I masked my devastation with a steely look of determination.
That was the thing about Joey Lynch; he couldn’t handle weakness.
It wrecked him.
He spent so much of his life caring for his family, fending for those weaker than him, that he didn’t have any room left for vulnerability.
He needed a strong partner.
Someone who could look after themselves.
Someone who didn’t need to be treated with kid gloves.
Enter Aoife.
“I told you not to come.”
No hello, Aoife, or anything.
Just blunt honesty.
He wanted to say goodbye this morning.
But I couldn’t do it.
I needed another minute.
Steeling my nerves, I arched a brow, burying down my insecurity and replacing it with feigned bravery. “And I told you to save your breath.”
“Aoife.” Pain encompassed his features and a shiver racked through his lean frame. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not good for the—”
Baby.
Yeah, I knew all about the old piseog, another old wives’ tale.
Stare at the face of death, never feel your baby’s breath.
Thing was, I was more in love than I was superstitious.
“I don’t care,” I shot back defiantly. “As if I wasn’t going to come, Joe.”
We had been through hell and high water together.
I wasn’t about to let him bury his mother alone.
“Still.” His eyes continued to search mine—for what, I had no idea, but he seemed to find whatever it was, because he exhaled a sigh of what sounded like relief.
“So, are you ready?” I clasped my hands together to stop myself from reaching for him. In truth, I wanted to snatch him up and lock him away in my bedroom.
So I could keep him safe.
So I wouldn’t be alone in this.
I forced a small smile before adding, “For what comes next?”
Lonesome green eyes seared something deep inside of my soul. “No.”
More blunt honesty.
