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I did a hell of a lot more than touch her, but he couldn’t say the word “fucked” and I didn’t blame him.
“I can’t change the past, blondie, but trust me when I say that when I see, or think, of Alannah, it is purely platonic. She is me friend, and that’s it. Ina is the only woman I think about, the only woman I want. End of story.”
We stared off with one another for a dozen or so seconds.
“Look,” I said. “This might sound stupid, but since we’re apparently havin’ this out, I want to thank you.”
Damien’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Thank me? For fucking what?”
“For comin’ back to Ireland.” I shrugged. “No offence to Lana, but I think if ye stayed away, we would have turned into somethin’, and if that had happened, I would have missed out on havin’ a life with Ina, so … thank you.”
Damien processed this, and after a moment, he stuck his hand out. Relief I didn’t know I’d feel slammed into me. I shook his hand firmly and nodded.
“I still think you’re a prick,” he said, “but I can tolerate you now.”
I laughed. “Ye took the words right outta me mouth, blondie.”
After our hostile past, I knew we’d never be the best of mates, but I knew we’d be good friends in some capacity, even if it was only to slag one another and scrap a little when the need arose. To me, that was much better than having an enemy.
“She phoned me up recently,” I said, dropping his hand. “I believe congratulations are in order for a weddin’ and a baby. What’s this, the twentieth Slater kid?”
Damien snorted. “Sixth, but some days, it feels like twenty when they’re all in a room together, and one sets them all off crying.”
I chuckled. “Jax and Locke together give me grey hairs, so good luck with that.”
Damien laughed, then wordlessly, we got back to work. A few minutes after I changed out the tyres on the car I was working on, JJ appeared at my side.
“Good man.”
I looked at the tyre I had just fitted onto the vehicle’s wheel rim.
“I do know what I’m doin’.”
“No.” JJ snorted. “I heard what you and Dame were talkin’ about. Ye squared your shit away like men, and I’m proud of you.”
I wanted to smile, but I didn’t. I smirked instead.
“I’ll piss him off before the week is out.”
JJ laughed. “I don’t doubt it, and I’m sorry to spoil your kissin’ and makin’ up with Dame, but Ina overheard most of your conversation.”
I froze. “What?”
“She came out here with her tablet, likely to ask ye somethin’ about your log, but she saw you and Damien talkin’. She got that worried look on her face like she thought the pair of ye were goin’ to have a scrap. She stopped, listened for a bit, then went back inside. She definitely heard the mentionin’ of how many women ye’ve been with and that fact that you and Alannah Ryan were once a thing.”
My stomach dropped. “No.”
“She didn’t look too happy about it either.”
“Bollocks.”
“I reckon she’s in the staff room makin’ a cuppa to calm herself down.”
I felt myself move without putting much thought into it. I walked out of the hangar, by the empty reception desk, made my way down the hallway, and paused when my father walked by me. I grabbed his arm, bringing him to a halt.
“There’s goin’ to be some shoutin’ comin’ from the staff room. Ina’s pissed at me … Make sure everyone gives us privacy.”
Da glanced behind him, then nodded. I let go of his arm, inhaled and exhaled, then walked into the room. She was standing near the kettle, stirring a teabag around her cup. I closed the door behind me.
“Heya, country.”
She didn’t answer, but she did stiffen. Fuck.
“I know … I know ye heard what Dame and me spoke about.”
She nodded slowly.
“I’m sorry, honey.”
Her silence was hurting my chest.
“Let’s talk about it,” I said gently. “We’ve talked about your past, but never mine. It’s about time we did, don’t ye think?”
“I’d rather not know the gory details of how ye fucked your way through the female population of Ireland, thank you.”
Fuck. She was pissed.
“Ina.” I sighed. “Come on, specs. Talk to me.”
She spun to face me, and while there was hurt in her eyes, there was fire, too. Shite.
“Ye’ve been with a thousand women?” Her voice was almost a growl. “D’ye know how much that hurts to think of all those women touchin’ ye? It makes me sick!”
I could imagine.
“I haven’t been with a thousand women. Gav’s estimate is off.”
“How many have ye been with then?”
Like seven hundred. Maybe eight. Eight fifty at most. Fuck. I couldn’t tell her that. I once thought such a high number was something to be proud of and brag about, but I now found no pleasure in my tally. In fact, it made me a little sick.
