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I don’t argue.

He’s right.

“Jesus,” I breathe as it all sinks in.

Kian smiles. “Welcome home, big brother.”

“You little shit,” I say. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

Kian makes an attempt at a shrug. “I appreciate karma.”

“Is that what this is?”

“What else would you call it?”

“A fucking shitshow.”

Kian smiles. “You can do this, Cillian. Maybe that’s what the last thirteen years were about. Everyone loves a comeback story.”

“I’m no hero,” I insist.

“Good. Can’t stand those smarmy hero types,” Kian laughs. “But you’re the kind of man that people can rally behind.”

I stand up slowly, trying to ward off that oppressive sense of responsibility threatening to swallow me whole.

I put my hand on his shoulder gently. “Get some rest,” I tell him. “I’m going to go… get my bearings.”

“You do that,” Kian replies with a knowing smile. “I’ll be… shit—here, probably.”

We both laugh. Then I slip away.

I venture out through the patio and into the garden. Rory gives me a look, but I wave him off. He seems to understand that I need some alone time.

The moment I’m alone, though, there’s only one face that dominates my mind.

Her face.

Those startling blue eyes.

That wild red hair.

It can’t have been her at the airport. What are the fucking chances I’d run into Saoirse my first ten seconds on Irish soil?

It’s just too fucking insane.

In any case, the woman I saw—the glimpse of the woman I saw—was clearly troubled.

There’d been fear in her eyes. The kind of cataclysmic sadness that makes you think of tragedies unfolding again and again and again, like a never-ending fireworks display.

I refuse to believe that’s the fate that Saoirse chose over me.

I’ll find her,I promise myself.

But first, I need to save my family.

* * *

I meander over to a dark patch of the garden. More thoughts pass through my head sporadically, but for the most part, I just try to breathe and think of nothing.


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