Page 148 of Dirty Eoin

“She never loved him.” It’s said matter-of-factly.

“How do you know?”

“No woman has ever told Eoin they love him. He told me so himself.”

I feel pain in my heart over such a frank confession. That my eldest boy has never felt love aside from that of his immediate family. I thought I knew him better than he did himself, but I wasn’t aware of that.

He told Jaine he loved her. He wanted desperately to hear the words back, but he never did, and she’s determined that he never will.

“How did it make you feel when he confessed such a thing to you?”

She releases her breath slowly as she considers my question. “Guilty. Sad. He deserves to be loved. Everyone does.”

“This coming from the woman who tried to ruin his life.” I snort.

“This coming from the woman who blatantly threatened to end mine,” she snaps.

“Touché.”

“I held him responsible when I shouldn’t have. I’m well aware of my own goddamn mistakes and that he didn’t really do anything wrong.”

“The only thing Eoin did wrong was fall in love with the same woman as his brother, but he wasn’t in control of that. We don’t get to choose who we love.”

Surely, she must know that he still loves her. She’s far from being stupid or naïve. Or is she deliberately not wanting to see what’s in front of her because her feelings mirror his and she doesn’t wish to accept them?

To embrace the future, Jaine needs to let go of the past, and right now, she’s not willing to do that.

“I saw him with Ava.”

“Doing what? Nothing is my guess. Come now, Jaine. I believe you know deep down that Ava means nothing to him. He’s taken the vows with you. He won’t have kissed the girl, let alone done anything else with her, no matter how much she may try to tempt him. She wants him for herself, but the same could be said for most of the females in the city. He has no interest in them. Ava’s merely in reserve because he has no option but to find himself a suitable, willing wife.”

“And I’m not willing.” She speaks quietly before her mouth slowly curves upwards. “But I’m not suitable either, am I, Roisin? As a biker, I’m lower than pond life in your eyes. Why is it that you hate bikers so much?”

She’s right. I do hate bikers and I’ve never denied it. I reluctantly let my mind drift back to when I was twenty-one. I seldom let it go back there for reasons I’ve told no one apart from my Fergal.

“There are several motorcycle clubs dotted around New York, as you know. As young girls, all our heads were turned by the handsome young men wearing their leathers and driving around on gleaming motorbikes.” There’s a lengthy pause. “I very stupidly got involved with one. A handsome lad with a mop of blonde hair and the most sparkling blue eyes you’ve ever seen.” I can’t help but smile at the bittersweet memory. “Coming from a strict Irish Catholic family, my parents instilled in me that I had to remain pure for my future husband. That it was a sin to do anything out of wedlock and that I would be cast aside by The Almighty if I even had such wicked thoughts, let alone acted on them. My biker boy filled my head with nonsense about the rosy future he and I would share. He was full of sweet talk and charm. In the end, I gave in, and I ended up pregnant. When I told him, he explained that he couldn’t be with me because he’d also gotten the president of the club’s daughter pregnant. He claimed he had been put under pressure to make her his old lady and that they were going to have to jump over the broom together or whatever it is that you lot do instead of taking proper vows.”

We both chuckle, but it’s tinged with sadness.

“In the end, I had to confess everything to my parents. In their defense, they were more understanding than I thought they’d be. They simply sent me away to live in a house with girls in a similar situation. Once I’d had the baby, he was immediately taken from me. My parents reassured me that he was found the very best of adoptive homes.

“I was broken for a long time after until my Fergal found me. He had his choice of every Irish girl in Hell’s Kitchen, but he chose the tarnished one who was classed as used goods.”

We stare at each other for a time. There’s no rush to speak. We won’t be going anywhere soon, if at all.

“Did you not ever try to find him?”

“Who?” I stare at her as I drag my mind back from the past to the present.

“Your son.”

I shake my head. “My life had moved on. His would have moved on too. It would have been unfair of me to try to shoehorn my way in.”

“And only Fergal knows?”

I nod. “My parents have long since passed.”

“If you change your mind about finding him, I can gain access to records, and for any I can’t, I’m sure Jessie can…”

---