Page 14 of Beer & Broomsticks

Bridget scowled. “What do you mean, ‘you always do’?”

“Just that you like to have a plan,” her friend hedged with another swipe of the dust cloth.

Giving Roisin a look to silence her, Bridget plumped a pillow. “I’m going to find the sword.”

“What?”

“I said—”

“Yeah, I heard what you said,” Roisin grumbled, planting her hands on her hips. “But are ya mad? Why would you run off to try and find it now? What good could come of it?”

“I could finally get my magic, that’s what.” Bridget avoided eye contact. “And maybe stop those mad O’Connors in the process.”

“You’ve lost your fecking mind, woman.”

“I’ve not!”

“Ya have!”

The two of them glared at one another. Bridget was the first to relent, and she sank down on the mattress. “I’ve got to dosomething. Standing around, waiting for life to happen, waiting for those damned O’Connors to strike… I can’t do it anymore.”

Roisin joined her on the bed and rested her head on Bridget’s shoulder. “Look, I get it. After you blistered my ears at the cottage, I realized you were right. I couldn’t continue the double life I’d been leadin’. You helped me mend my broken family.” She kissed Bridget’s cheek. “And while I may hate it, I’ll support your choices.”

“I think Ruairí knows more than he’s saying.”

“You always do. When are you going to give him a break, Bridg? The poor man’s wasting away with a broken heart.”

Bridget gave her friend a light shove and rose from the bed. “He’s a scut and deserves what he gets.”

“Will you never tell me why?”

“He kissed Molly Mae—all to stir my jealousy, the eejit.”

Roisin snorted a laugh. “I’m surprised you didn’t shove her into a lake and drag him home by his ear.”

“He said much the same. The fool thought he could provoke me into running away with him. What would make me want a player?”

“But he’s not, is he? He’s loved you forever. And I know a repentant man when I see one. Ruairí’s been repentant since the day he screwed up.”

Knowing Roisin was right didn’t make the situation any better. Hurt was still hurt, and Bridget had been crushed at the time. “Aye. But should I give him a second chance to batter my poor heart?”

“I don’t think he will. I think he’s wise enough to treasure it this time around,” Roisin said softly.

Undecided and feeling slightly off balance from the topic, Bridget shooed her off the bed to straighten the coverlet.

“Bridget?”

She looked up from her chore.

“You didn’t see his face when you held Frankie. The man was beyond smitten. He was a fecking puddle at your feet.”

Stomach in knots from indecision, Bridget didn’t comment. As she left the room, she encountered Ruairí coming out of his. He paused as if unsure of his reception, and the wary look he was sporting pricked her conscience. Shehadbeen too hard on him for the indiscretions of a boy.

“Sure, and you need to listen without interrupting,” she said irritably. Nothing annoyed her more than being wrong, but she could at least acknowledge when she was.

He raised his brows, and his lips twitched as if he fought a smile. Wise enough to remain silent, he gestured for her to continue.

“I’m sorry for not forgiving you sooner than I did.” Meeting his startled gaze, she shrugged, uncomfortable with the entire conversation, but determined to power through. “You didn’t deserve my treatment for as long as it lasted. I allowed the hurt to fester until it infected my soul, killing any softer emotions—like love.”

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