“No, Pat. Bébhinn told me they weren’t in Ireland. She wouldn’t lie. They’re somewhere else. I just wish Jo would tell me, damn it! I wouldn’t follow her. I just want to know.”
His dad only grunted. Fifteen minutes of tense silence later, Pat slid a platter of eggs, toast, bacon, and bottles of water between them before taking his own seat.
“Do you think Raven will talk to you?”
Patrick was piling food on his plate. His voice held little inflection. He was probably afraid to show too much emotion in case the news wasn’t good, and Bran might want to avoid answering.
“She needs a couple more months, Bébhinn said. Two more.” Bran’s fork was digging painfully into his middle finger. He loosened his grip before taking a bite of over easy eggs. “I understand. It’s just... damn it, I want to see her.”
“Why two months?”
“Bébhinn told me that it’s been two months since I accused her of cheating, and Raven believes that had James not come forward and got me to consider that the photos were faked, I would not have wanted to talk to her now. They all knew she was innocent, but I needed the evidence.”
Bran grabbed his half-eaten breakfast off the table and took his plate to the sink to start washing Patrick’s dishes. “Jesus, the amount of stupidity and arrogance I managed to hold onto over the past months is shocking. I don’t blame Raven for not wanting me back right away. If ever.”
“Two months is a whole fuckton better than never, brother. You’ll win her back.”
“And if she says no in two months, we do what I suggested two weeks ago,” Dad grumbled. “We hire a private detective, circumvent Josephine, and track them down. If we’re standing in front of them, they’ll have to talk to us.”
“I agree, Dad. I’m hopeful River will let me have her number before then, though.”
Dad brought his own plate to Bran, handing it over. He asked what Bran planned on doing with his time while he waited.
“I’ve got to make a run to the Oklahoma Historical Society in a couple weeks to make the final selection of professors that are going to speak at the fundraising this winter. Then there is Wolves grand opening. It was originally scheduled for this weekend to celebrate the Labor Day crowd. You put it off. O’Connors are pushing for a date.” He looked at his dad, raising his eyebrows... well?
Hugh O’Faolain crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest, affecting a casual lean against the refrigerator. “I’ll have a date within the week, and I’m paying the O’Connors extra for the delay.”
He walked out of the kitchen and the front door without uttering another word.
“Jesus, he’s a moody bastard. Beat the shit out of me, Bran, if I ever start acting like our old man.”
Patrick was joking, of course. They loved and respected their dad above all others, but he was right about the moody bastard part. Dad exuded a fuckoff vibe more than usual.
Pat went on, “I already texted Jo to put in a good word to River about me. She told me to fuck off, but she didn’t say she wouldn’t... winning. What else do you plan on doing while you wait for— what is it,” looking at his watch, “the beginning of November?”
“I put a countdown in my phone. October 31. I’m trying to be optimistic. If River does give up her number, and you guys talk once in a while, if anything is brought up about Raven, you’d tell me, right?”
“You know I will, Bran. The Byrne sisters aren’t the only close siblings.”
Bran smiled. True. “As for plans. I’m calling a landscaper today. Gran sent me the name of a woman who’s lived in Oklahoma for twenty years but is originally from Ireland. Raven wanted to plant a wild garden of flowers here, and I’m going to make it happen. I’m also going to reach out to the chef that cooked for us the night I... destroyed our relationship.”
“Why? He probably heard enough that night to scare him off the O’Faolains for good. You probably don’t know this, but the chef opened the door to Dad’s study that night to bring in dessert. He quickly backed out, and I’m sure even more quickly left. He may not be interested in hearing from you.”
Bran cringed. “I don’t care about being embarrassed. I’ll apologize to him. Raven loved the bread he baked that night, and she and her sisters talked about some fucking starter or something. I don’t really understand what it is, but you make thebread with it. I’m going to learn how to make it and give it to Raven as a gift.”
“Wow, okay. You’re serious. Noted.”
“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to prove myself to her.”
Jo calledPatrick three days later while he, their father, and Bran were eating dinner and having drinks on the deck.
“Jo, it’s good to hear from you.”
“Pat. It’s your lucky day. River consented to give you her number. I’m texting it to you now.”
“Any other news?” Bran asked. Not expecting anything, but hopeful as shit.
“No, that’s it. Hey Hugh, do you have an idea when you’ll let us open at Wolves?”
