Page 17 of Taming Irish

“Ye’re killing me.” I drag my fingers through my hair and let out a frustratedbreath.

He inhales long and slow like he’s trying to figure out a way to appease me, then says cautiously, “Maybe ye need to find another outlet-” His words die in his throat when I glare athim.

“Ye want me to join another band?” I can’t help the hurt that edges mywords.

“If what ye want is the stage, then maybe ye needto.”

“Bullshit.” I give a harsh shake of my head and turn toleave.

“Shane.”

“What?” I bark out, glancing over my shoulder athim.

Worry draws his brows down. When he places his hands on the back of the chair, his features tighten, and I get an uneasy feeling I’m not going to like the next words that come out of hismouth.

“If ye got something to say, just spit itout.”

“Emer called Bree yesterday, and she’s worried about yermom.”

My chest tightens, because I know that Owen wouldn’t have said anything if there wasn’t cause for concern. The woman is constantly on me, pressuring me to settle down, to be the man my father was. She’s insanely stubborn, and constantly on my case about every little detail of my life, but I know it’s all done out oflove.

I may not want any of the things she values, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know how fucking lucky I was to grow up with a woman who poured her heart and soul into her family, including the few strays, Owen included, that were always at ourhouse.

“What happened?” I ask, my mood quickly switching from frustrated toconcerned.

Owen rubs the back of his neck. “She had some chest pain. It wasn’t a heart attack,but-”

“Shit. Why the hell didn’t anyone callme?”

“Ye know yer mom. She didn’t want anyone making a big deal aboutit.”

“I’ll drive home tonight.” My mom won’t ask for help, ever. But if there’s even a possibility that she’s not well, she’ll have a fight on her hands to try and keep meaway.

I grab my bag from the floor and toss it over myshoulder.

Owen watches me from across the room. I can see he wants to say something else, but he clamps his lips shut on whatever itis.

“I’ll call ye when I know more,” I say, knowing he’ll be just as worried as I am until he knows everything’s all right. Agnus Hayes has been as much a mother to him and his brother Cillian as she was to me and Emer. Not to mention that the man seems to have some fucked up idea that he’s somehow responsible for every single one of us, includingher.

Owen gives a small nod, then says when I start to open the door, “Just try and stay out oftrouble.”

I grin at him over my shoulder, repeating the line that’s been my motto since we were kids. “Ye and I both know thatTroublehas always been my middlename.”

He gives a small shake of his head, worry still evident in his gray eyes. “One day, ye’re going to get yerself into a spot I won’t be able to get ye outof.”

The man has helped dig me out of more holes than I care to admit. And I have a bad feeling that I might have dug myself the Grand Canyon of holes recently if any of the anonymous letters I’ve been receiving have any truth tothem.

“What?” Owen asks, his gaze narrowing like he can read mythoughts.

I wince, part of me wanting to tell him. But, I’m a grown fucking man, and I don’t need an Owen-sized babysitter taking care ofme.

“If ye’re worried about me, then do me a favor and start writing some bloodymusic.”

I hear his grunt as I let the door shut behindme.

Maybe I’m acting like a selfish bastard. Hell, I know I am. But it doesn’t stop me from scowling at Bree when she starts down the hall towardme.

“He’s all yers.” It’s hard not to miss the sarcasm that drips from the words, the edge of frustration, even though I hadn’t intentionally meant it thatway.

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