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I roll my eyes. “Shane wants to see all of us.”
“Why?” he asks, his handsome face pulled into a frown.
“I’m not sure. Everyone is okay, though. Mikey and Conor are in his office waiting for us.”
He sits up quickly, throwing the covers off himself.
I sit on the sofa between Conor and Liam while Mikey hovers nervously near Shane’s desk as he watches his eldest brother pulling a bottle of Midleton, Chapter One, out of his bottom drawer. I swallow hard. That is a forty thousand dollar bottle of whiskey, the kind you drink on very special, or very sad occasions.
As soon as Conor sees the bottle, his entire body tenses. Lifting his arm, he reaches behind me and places his hand on Liam’s shoulder. There are five crystal tumblers on Shane’s desk, and we all watch in silence as he pours a generous measure into each one. When he is done, he nods to Mikey, who passes a glass to each of us on the sofa and it’s only when we are each holding a drink that Shane finally speaks. “Patrick Ryan died two hours ago,” he says as he looks between his three younger brothers. Then he raises his glass in a toast. “May the evil cunt rot in hell for all eternity.”
“For eternity,” Mikey echoes before we each down the expensive whiskey. The brothers down theirs in one gulp while I take two. Mikey slams his glass down onto the desk. “Cunt,” he mutters under his breath.
Conor has his eyes closed and his fist clenched as he keeps one arm behind me with his hand on Liam’s shoulder. Liam stares into space while Shane sits back in his chair and rubs a hand over his jaw. The room is thick with tension and emotion and I can think of nothing else to do other than sit here with them and let them feel whatever it is they need to. I place one hand on Conor’s thigh while I reach for Liam’s hand and he entwines his fingers with mine, squeezing softly and then we all just sit there quietly.
It’s Conor who eventually breaks the silence. “I’m not going to his funeral,” he spits.
“I know,” Shane replies softly.
“Me neither,” Mikey snarls. “I’m never setting foot in Ireland ever again.” He looks over at Liam, who nods his agreement.
“I know,” Shane says again with a heavy sigh. “But I’ll have to go. I need to sort out his estate. And…” he shakes his head and pours another shot of whiskey.
“One of us needs to,” Conor finishes for him. “If only to make sure that the fucker is really dead.”
“Exactly,” Shane replies before he downs another shot.
“You can’t go on your own,” Conor shakes his head.
“I’m not planning to. Erin will be coming.”
I tense instinctively at the mention of her name. Despite the circumstances, I hate that she’s going to Ireland with him.
Conor reaches across and squeezes my thigh as Shane looks at me and I swallow, wondering if he noticed my reaction and whether it’s going to be an issue. I promised him I’d let the Erin thing go, but I can’t help how the thought of him and her alone together makes me feel.
“The ice queen?” Mikey snorts. “You might as well be going alone.”
“Well, I was also hoping for some warmer company too,” he replies, still looking at me. “You fancy a trip to Ireland, Jessie?”
“Me?” I blink at him.
“Yes,” he frowns.
My mouth is suddenly incredibly dry. This seems like a big thing for us, but there is only one answer to his question. “Yes. Of course I’ll come with you.”
“How long will you be gone for?” Conor asks.
“A week. Maybe. Ten days, tops,” Shane replies.
“Fuck!” Mikey hisses. “Ten days? You make sure you look after our girl if you’re taking her there, Shane.”
“I will,” he frowns.
“I can look after myself,” I remind them.
“We know,” Conor whispers as he kisses my cheek. “You make sure you take care of our boy too,” he whispers in my ear.
“I will,” I whisper back.
