Page 10 of Stronger Than Love

I glared at him before draining an entire bottle and throwing it into the glass bin. “Nope.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“You’ve spent ten years planning your big reunion and all I get is a ‘Nope’?”

I glared at Callum who stared back at me. He was worse than a father, because he was too like me and was privy to all my secrets.

“She accused me of leaving her to go and whore it up with you in the city. The bitches that used to live next door to us told her that I used her for her parents’ money and that she was nothing more than an easy target for me to get into my bed. That was why she left and ignored me. Oh, and all the packages I sent her for her birthday every year? She thinks they were from Niall. Happy?” I demanded.

His wide eyes, elevated eyebrows, and open mouth met my tirade.

Silently Declan went to the fridge and replaced my beer.

“Are you going to tell her the truth?” Callum asked in a hushed tone.

“Nope,” I replied, making the word pop. “The boy who made excuses for who he was died a long time ago.”

Callum swung around in his chair to study me. “That boy didn’t die. He grabbed life by the throat and changed it forall of us. He worked hard to drag his family out of poverty and ensure we all stayed together.” He stood up and grabbed my shoulder. “And he did all of it so he could claim the love of his life. You’ve been head-over- heels in love with that girl most of your life. Are you really going to walk away because of a misunderstanding?”

My eyes narrowed at my brother and I swiped his hand away as I trailed my hand through my hair. Callum had been my confidante since I could walk and talk. He’d had to listen to every one of my childhood fantasies about the girl who lived in the big house.

“She walked away first,” I muttered, bringing the bottle of beer to my lips.

“Yeah, but being right doesn’t keep you warm at night,” Callum retaliated.

Maybe he was right, but tonight my heart felt shredded by her words and my temples throbbed with a headache that threatened to incapacitate me.

After dinner, I dragged my miserable ass to bed. Dreams of Oonagh tormented me, and images of us together that last summer haunted me until I ended up sitting on the back step to watch the sun rise over the horizon.

Since sleep was no longer an option, I grabbed a cup of coffee and headed to my workshop at the back of the property. Inside was my own private area containing all my art supplies. I’d loved to draw as far back as I could remember, sketching the ocean and the raw wildness of the waves.

In university, I’d sold some paintings to pay for food. At the time, I didn’t know the buyerowned a gallery. He approached me a few months later about commissioning an exhibition. No one ever came here but me, and many of my private paintings that adorned my walls featured Oonagh in them. She was depicted as a mermaid in some, her eyes incorporated into the ocean in others.

My rage and disappointment were released onto the canvas in front of me, the paint dark and oppressive. Time became irrelevant as I lost myself in the creation process, emerging hours later, my torso covered in paint since I still wore my pyjama bottoms.

Everyone had left the house already to go to work, so I stood under the shower, allowing the water to cleanse me. For the first time in nearly ten years, tears streamed down my face into the water where no one would ever see them.

Yesterday replayed in my head and I screamed my rage into the torrent of water. The man who emerged from the shower was the calm businessman the world saw. I would always love Oonagh, but I would never let her anywhere near my heart again.

***

Chapter Six

Oonagh – Ten years ago

Three summers I hadn’t seen Liam. I was so excited that my skin felt tight and I could barely sit in the car. My seventeenth birthday was spent in Donegall with my paternal grandmother, who hadn’t been well, Mum nursing her. My eighteenth birthday heralded a rocky period for my parents when they separated before deciding they belonged together. I went to university that September, and the summer of my nineteenth birthday had been spent touring Europe with my new roommates.

We wrote to each other all the time, and I sent him a postcard from every city in Europe we visited. Every one ended withI wish you were here to see this with me. It was true; my greatest wish was that Liam could have walked along beside me, his fingers intertwined with mine.

The house still looked the same, but it felt different after being away so long. The wallpaper in my bedroom felt childish and my books had evolved to medical textbooks.

Niall was away in Australia this summer, so it was just Mum and me since Dad was working and coming down at the weekends.

Desperately needing to clear my head, I wandered down to the beach to watch the waves crashing to shore. I squealedwhen strong arms circled my waist and spun me around, making my feet leave the ground.

“God, I missed you,” Liam growled in my ear, sending shivers trickling down my spine.

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