“I don’t need a sleeping pill.”
“You do.”
“And I’ll turn this loveseat into a comfy bed for you,” Raven added.
They’d just taken off. River desperately wanted to be home and forget Oklahoma ever happened.
Brenda came rushing back. “Sorry, Mr. O’Faolain, for the delay. I was just serving Bobby a coffee.”
“Not a problem, Brenda. Do you happen to have any sleep aids available?”
Brenda’s eyes briefly landed on River’s puffy eyes and tear-stained face before quickly looking back to Hugh. River would be embarrassed if she wasn’t so numb.
“I have a personal prescription for Ambien, sir. I don’t sleep well in hotels.”
Rowan asked, “Would you mind sparing one for my sister?”
“Of course. I will get it now, along with water. It works faster on an empty stomach.” Before she left, Hugh also asked her to get every spare pillow and extra blankets for her and her sisters. Brenda spoke directly to River. “I’ll get the bedding, but first, I’ll grab your pill so you can start to relax while I get everything situated.” Her smile was kind. River mouthed a thank you as she didn’t trust her voice.
Brenda was back in a flash, pill and water in hand. “You know, there is a small bedroom behind the partition,” she said, pointing over Hugh’s head.
Her sisters both said, “Here will be fine,” at the same time. They wanted her surrounded by everyone. River nodded in agreement. Rowan sat back by River while they waited.
“Raven, while Brenda gets the bedding situated, come sit down and put your feet up for a moment. You keep rubbing Baby O, and it’s freaking me out.”
Raven smiled softly as she moved to do as he asked. “Your son is doing somersaults.”
Once her couch was made up and the lights dimmed, the Ambien started to do its thing. Her sisters kissed her goodnight. “When you wake, we’ll have shit figured out. Just sleep now, and know we are close.”
* * *
It tookfive days for the weather to clear enough for flights to safely resume. Five fucking days. Patrick was going out of his mind. He’d stayed in Tulsa during the snowstorm, doing nothing but sitting in the dark brooding over all the ways he’d wronged River— and there were many.
She‘d blocked him from her phone and social media. Her sisters blocked him too. Patrick assumed his dad and brother would like to block him as well, but then they wouldn’t be able to yell at him. He deserved it. He deserved worse.
His dad was so angry that the first time he called Patrick, he only said one word.Why?He asked if Bran was there. He was. He asked to be put on speaker. And then he told them every way he’d had hurt River. He attempted to explain his irrational fear about commitment, but he floundered for words.
He told them about Miranda. That she was someone he’d hooked up with before. He admitted to being confused by his feelings for River and had made the worst possible choice. When Miranda asked him to step outside in the garden, he agreed. He regretted the decision immediately but allowed her to climb on his lap.
He’d kissed her.
He was so ashamed.
He believed River would never speak to him again. Forgive him.
They were silent as he tried to get hold of his emotions— to stop crying.
Finally, Bran broke the silence. “You aren’t the only O’Faolain around here to fuck up. I lost Raven for a while and almost lost the chance to be a part of my son’s life. I understand screwing up, Pat. It’s what you do from here on out that matters now. I’ll stand by you because we’re family, and I love you, but I won’t step between the sisters.”
“You have an uphill battle, Son, but I will never hold your mistakes against you. We all make them. I agree with Bran, though. I won’t go against what the sisters want. River needs time to heal, and they’ve thrown up barricades all the way around her, even from us. It will take time.”
Knowing his family was disappointed but still loved him meant everything to Patrick. If they abandoned him— he didn’t even want to imagine it.
So, here he sat on the O’Connor’s private jet, wanting to vent his rage at how long it would be before he reached Dublin— before he was in the same city as River. However, desperate anger wasn’t any more productive than despair. River was a planner. She was the best at it. He needed to become a better planner. He needed to spend every hour of every day working toward winning her back.
Josephine O’Connor was distracting him from his thoughts. She sat facing him. And she looked like she was half a second from flying across the aisle to bash his head in. He’d tried to talk to her three times already, and she’d refused to speak.
“Thank you again for letting me share the flight.” He sounded as stiff as his father. His emotions were so raw. Barely leashed.
