“Idiot will kill himself if he drives like that all the way to Eighth Avenue,” Aidan groused. “Who the hell is Aela O’Neill?”
The skin around Finn’s eyes pinched. “Deidre’s best friend.”
Lena’s hand tightened around the glass. “Oh.”
“Deirdre was Declan’s childhood sweetheart,” Finn explained softly.
“Why was he so eager to see her friend?” Eoghan queried. “It’s not like him to be excited about anything anymore.”
That was why he was so quiet?
He was still grieving?
My opinion of the dour brother instantly changed, and I felt guilty for just thinking he was a miserable bastard when his misery was forged from grief. If anyone could understand that, it was me.
Until Finn, I’d been at a complete and utter loss after my mom’s death. But with Finn, it was like he was my rudder. The pain was still there, her loss would never leave me, but at least he was at my side, and I wasn’t alone anymore.
Any amusement or humor died the second Declan left. We were all curious about what he was doing, all wondering why he’d run off the way he had. It was a relief when Lena hadn’t made dessert, and Finn excused us early, saying I still needed to rest.
Liar.
As we drove off their estate, I asked, “There a reason you wanted to get out of there so quickly?”
He shrugged. “I’m ready to go home.”
“Aidan was mad at you.”
“Aidan’s mad period.”
My lips curved at that. “But you love him anyway.”
“I do,” he said on a sigh, one that sounded like it was dragged from the depths of his soul.
“Hey, that’s okay. Love works in funny ways. Who’d think I’d love the man who was bribing me into his bed?”
His nose crinkled at the bridge. “Big difference.”
“Is there?” I laughed. “If you’d been crap in bed, I’m not sure I’d have fallen head over heels for you.”
“You’d have fallen for something, angel,” he said teasingly. “It’s how I roll.”