Page 25 of Naughty Irish Fate
Chapter Nine
Bronwyn
Gotten good at seeing when the end is coming.
Saw it with my mother. Saw it when Grams got sick. Even knew Paps held on just for me. I would call it a gift but it feels more like a curse.
Today on the boat with Rooker, I saw the end coming.
Sawourend coming.
It’s what I expected, of course. An end was always coming. Doesn’t make it hurt less. Doesn’t mean my heart is any less broken. Maybe that’s foolish. Guess I am my mother’s daughter, after all.
“Still sticking around, I see.” Trudi nods towards Rooker as he roams the bar while we prep for the night.
It’s just days before St. Patty’s day and we have plenty to prepare. We always serve a huge meal of corned beef, cabbage, and green beer. Practically the entire town gets pissed for a week. Always been good times.
Can’t say I am looking forward to the festivities now.
Rooker never gave me promises. Really his promise was alwaysno promises. I never expected to see him after our first night. Today was a fluke. It was never meant to happen. None of this was ever meant to happen.
“Don’t read something that’s not there, Trudi.” I warn her with a look.
“Bullshit. There is plenty there to read, Lovie. Swept off your feet by a hot captain. It could be an old Irish poem. Or a dirty limerick. Either way, it’s romantic as fuck.” I almost laugh with her before tears sting my eyes.
“Nothing romantic about a two-night stand, Trudi. Let’s talk about the holiday. Who is back-up this year?” I look over the plans for the coming week. Really I see nothing. Care so little I don’t even try to hide it.
“Bronwyn,” Trudi slips on her serious voice and I have to look at her because this is unusual, “Jokes aside. Talk to me. This... this is different. Different than taking home a random sailor to scratch a dirty itch. Tell me why it’s so different.” I can’t look at her because if anyone could see what Rooker’s done to me, it’s Trudi.
Besides my grandparents and the pub, Trudi is the only constant in my life. Growing up in Shore Ridge, we were the two wild-child heir apparent. Me to a family of romantic fools and her to a literal empire. Being the daughter of the oldest and largest fishing fleet in town made for a rougher life than one might expect.
Irish immigrants coming from Belfast, Galway and Dublin built Shore Ridge from the ground up. Trudi’s family has been here longer than mine which is saying a lot. It’s a century old town steeped in tradition and custom. Neither Trudi nor I had been very fond to follow either, honestly.
We went through rough times when my mother passed and when her father left. Both of us turned a bit wild, but we always were there to make sure we never went too crazy. Trudi didn’t believe in romance much. I thought I didn’t either.
Until a rusty voiced sailor with pretty green eyes had fate making me think maybe I did.
“Rook is different because... he makes me think. I thought it was going to be about feeling shit. Which we both know I am no good at. But I can do that; I can get hurt and rebound. Now though... he asks questions that make me think about things. Want things. Things I never even considered before him.” Trudi glances back at Rooker who is smirking over by the jukebox. Flashes of me atop that machine with his head between my thighs makes me flush.
“Things such as you living your entire life based on holding on to your pain? Staying here in Shore Ridge. In the pub with that jukebox and that fucking coin?” My eyes snap to her as a protective hand flies to my pocket.
“Uh... yes. Yes, exactly that. I love the pub. I love Shore Ridge.” It’s not true. Trudi knows that so she snorts a loud laugh and shakes her head.
“No, Bronwyn, all bullshit. We both wanted out of Shore Ridge our entire lives. I got out long enough to realize this place is just a place. Just buildings and shores and a pier. It’s nothing more or less. Shore Ridge is aplace, Bronwyn. Not a fucking sentence. Nothing keeps you here but yourself. Your fears.” Wincing at the harsh truth of her words, I blink back hot angry tears.
“You, Flanagan’s... even the fucking pier, it’s all I know. Where else could I belong?” As I ask the same question I posed to Rooker, Trudi sighs sadly and reaches out to swipe a tear off my cheek.
“Oh, Bronwyn. You know when you belong somewhere. Or even with someone. You will know it when you feel it. You feel like you could belong with him?” Panic bubbles at my chest, my throat, my lungs but I take deep breaths.
“I do, Trudi. How? How can I look up one night and see him and feel like I found where I belong? Looked up a thousand nights into a thousand of pairs of eyes. Rooker is the first to make me feel like he truly sees me.” Saying it out loud makes it feel much more real.
Spent my entire life keeping people out because the two people who should have wanted me didn’t. Even the love of Paps and Grams never healed that pain. Having Trudi, the pub, my regulars and friends like Bryan, didn’t either.
Just a few moments, a few hours, a few days with Rooker and I forgot how that pain once consumed me. Fate was laughing at us, like he had teased. Because I relied on that coin to give me excuses to keep people out.
Until my coin turned on me and forced me to let him in.
Glancing over at Rooker, I find him watching me. Something familiar and warm is in his eyes. Remembering our time on the boat today, I know that look is no match for how Rooker looked out over the sea.
