Ciar: I won’t speak for Daniel and Jon, but I will never bring another person into your home that might do something, anything, to hurt you four.
Ciar: Tell me you forgive me.
Ciar was the oldest of the guys and absolutely covered in tattoos. He looked more Irish gangster than businessman. He worked for an uber-wealthy real estate shark from London. He was a closer, whatever that meant. He could have lived anywhere but refused to leave his best friends. He also happened to be one of the sweetest of men.
Daniel: You’re my aunt and cousin, but you feel like my sister. Talk to me.
Daniel: Jon and I have an important Three Wolves board meeting this afternoon, and I won’t be able to concentrate if I haven’t heard from you.
Jonathan: Don’t you fucking dare go on this two-week fucking hike without forgiving me.
Ciar: We ruined your night. I KNOW THAT! Why won’t you or the other girls text me back?
Daniel: If you don’t respond, I will admit to Dad that I hurt you and your friends’ feelings. And you know what that would mean?
She groaned at the threat. And itwasa threat. If Bran knew she was upset and alone, he would bombard her with texts and calls. Not only that, but he would also tell everyone, and then they would be relentless.
Jonathan: I’m sorry I made you bring up Grandpa. I’m sorry you cried.
Daniel: You cried over Grandpa last night. It killed me. I miss him desperately, but he was your dad. Damnit, Bébhinn, fucking text back.
She had to press her fingers tightly to her eyes to head off the building tears.
She wanted to text them back that all was forgiven, but after witnessing Blair’s hurt and then forgetting herself and acting as though her father was a phone call away… Well, her feelings were raw.
She wanted to call and tattle on the boys to her dad so bad it was physically painful to stop her fingers from pressing his contact.
The truth was, the boys made poor choices with their dates, but they would never, not ever, do something to hurt her or her friends. Blair said last night that she wasn’t mad at the boys at all. The only wrong they committed was having poor taste in women.
They all agreed on that.
Blair said she was embarrassed that she’d used her voice in front of strangers. They didn’t bother to coddle Blair or try to tell her she was wrong to ever be embarrassed. It was her truth. It was how she felt, and only her opinion mattered on the subject. They’d learned that lesson years ago.
She knew the boys had gathered up the clone Brits immediately because they texted. The girls had already ditched the party to congregate in Blair’s garden. The mood for partying was past rallying. As soon as they found Blair, Mags tattled about Bébhinn forgetting that her dad had passed and the nightmare that ensued, where she burst into tears, and Mags and Gray yelled at the boys to get out.
Bébhinn would have gotten pissed at Mags sharing something so devastating, but one, they didn’t keep secrets from each other, and two, Mags and Gray were sniffling, which meant they were just as affected by her memory slip as she was. If one of them was hurt, they all hurt.
Still, she hated any discord in the family, including Ciar Murphy. So, instead of texting the guys back individually, she texted their group chat—Devils & Angels.
Bébhinn: You didn’t hurt me. I hurt myself. Let it go.
She would not comment on Blair’s situation. Her friend could join the chat or not. Instant bubbles appeared.
Mags: Fuck up like that again and see what happens.
Mags’ vicious streak always made Bébhinn chuckle. Her friend could always be counted on to make dire situations appear less harsh than her tongue.
Ciar: Jesus, Mags.
Gray: Your taste in women offends.
Daniel: Not always, Gray, but after last night…
She watched as bubbles started and stopped from Blair.
Jonathan: I’m not letting shit go. Try again.
Bébhinn was about to text again when Blair showed back up—and again didn’t leave a response.
