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Lauren is sitting at the breakfast bar, a mug of tea in front of her, hunched over, her face screwed up as she sobs. Tiggy is standing across from her, patting her hand awkwardly. Her eyes turn to us.
“I made her a cup of peppermint tea, and she started crying. She mumbled something about ‘killing Mrs. Dawkins’, but I didn’t understand much more than that. Does anyone know what that means?”
There are shaking heads as I drop onto the barstool beside Lauren, carefully lifting her into my arms, nuzzling my nose into her hair.
“Mo chroí, what’s going on? Why are ye crying?”
“Peppermint!” she wails, sobbing harder. I look around in alarm. But no one else seems to have a fucking clue either.
“The tea!” Tiggy blurts out, pushing it across the breakfast bar to us. “I made peppermint tea.”
“Ye don’t like peppermint tea?”
I’m at a fucking loss. This seems an overreaction to someone making tea you don’t like. Maybe Lauren is still emotional from her breakdown last night?
But she’s shaking her head, trying to swallow down her sobs, digging her hand into her purse, and pulling out her phone. Tapping around, Lauren shoves it into my hand, burying her face into my neck again. My eyes dip to the phone.
“Jesus fuck,” I breathe, my jaw clenching.
ANDIE: The Italian guys came back. They killed Mrs. Dawkins. I’m so sorry. Cops are here. Can’t talk. Stay hidden xx
“Andie, that’s yer neighbor back in Dot, isn’t it, lass?” I ask, and she nods against my neck, still sobbing.
I throw the phone to Seamus, who curses as he reads it.
“Who is Mrs. Dawkins,mo chroí?” I murmur, stroking her hair. Lauren lets out a small wail, burying her face in her hands. After about a minute or so, she calms down enough to talk, her cheek resting against my collarbone as I stroke her hair softly.
“She used to look after me. When Josh was busy. She’s the closest thing to a mother I had.” She sounds on the verge of breaking down again, and I can’t blame her.
“Hey!” Liam snatches the phone off Seamus, brandishing it at Lauren. “You got this message just before I got to Paddy’s last night. I’m not the reason you fucking lost it after all.”
He sounds relieved. Tiggy shoots him a glare, and he mouths something at her as she rolls her eyes. Before she can tell him off, Ronan grabs him by the scruff of his neck.
“Feckingapologize,” he growls at the lad.
“But…it wasn’t my fault,” Liam starts, falling silent when Ronan shakes him like a dog. “Sorry, Lauren,” he chokes out before Ronan drags him from the room.
“Come on, lass. Let’s get ye home,” I murmur against her ear. She sniffs, nodding and clinging to me as I lift her into my arms.
Chapter Eighteen
LAUREN
Paddy carries me out of the house to the SUV. I feel wicked awful for losing it in front of everyone, but when Tiggy gave me the peppermint tea… the smell, I was back in Mrs. Dawkins’ apartment, and then I fell apart.
Lucky climbs in the front and drives us, but we don’t head back to the city. Instead, we drive for maybe five minutes, pulling into the driveway of a gorgeous three-story house with a porch, bay windows, and a garret roof.
Paddy gathers me in his arms, carrying me inside, up the gorgeous mahogany stairs, and into a bedroom. He tucks me into the double bed and crawls in beside me, snuggling up against my neck.
This is all I wanted before we went to see Tiggy and Fitzy. I wanted to stay curled up in bed with Paddy, mourning Mrs. Dawkins and dealing with the idea of Paddy loving me.
I bury my face in his neck and sob again. I’m not sure how long I cry, but I eventually fall asleep to the sound of Paddy whispering to me in Irish.
I’m lying on Paddy’s chest while he strokes my hair when I wake up. He’s propped up against the headboard, one arm behind his head, staring at the faded rock band poster tacked to the wall across from the bed.
As I sit up, Paddy’s hand falls away from my hair. I glance around in surprise. This room looks like a time capsule to a teenager. From maybe fifteen years ago. Oh my god. I know where we are. I can’t believe Paddy brought me here. My heart thuds painfully in my chest.
“Is this your bedroom?”
