He thinks about that for a moment. “I was only ever the spare,” he answers softly. “Not even the second choice. I was always the third. I was the last chance. The only remaining hope for Da’s dreams.”
In the distance, birds skim over the lake. The air is warm and balmy, but a sudden chill races over the backs of my arms right as Kian grows more mournful.
“I had no choice but to embrace it,” he continues. “My parents gave me no choice. They suffocated me with duty and called it love. I’ve never had a chance to be anything else.”
I look at him as my heart cracks. What a hard life he must’ve had. The pressure of an overbearing father and two exiled brothers weighing down on him. Never a moment’s rest from that burden.
“Is that how you feel now?”
“Now?” he repeats. “Now, I feel like I deserve the chance to see what other options are available to me. And who knows? Maybe I’ll end up back here, right where I started.”
“But at least if that happens, it’ll be your choice,” I say, understanding where he’s coming from.
“Yes. Exactly.”
I give him a sympathetic smile. “Trust me—I know what it’s like to feel trapped. To not have a say in your own future. It makes you feel… powerless.”
Kian nods like he doesn’t trust himself to speak.
“You know that Cillian plans on leaving Ireland, though, don’t you?” I ask.
He snorts. “Or so he says.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You don’t believe him?”
“Oh, I believe that he believes,” Kian replies. “I just think he’s in denial.”
“About what?”
“About where he belongs.” He fixes me with a hard look. “He came back to Ireland for a reason, Saoirse.”
He doesn’t offer up an explanation as to what that reason may be.
But he doesn’t have to. I already know the damage our fleeting romance had on his life.
He has come back to fix what we broke.
“Anyway, I’m heading inside,” Kian tells me. “It’s time for my painkillers and my leg is hurting like a motherfucker. Are you gonna be alright on your own?”
“I’m a big girl,” I say with a smile. “I can handle the quiet.”
“If there’s anything you need, let me know.”
He’s turning towards the house when I realize that I do want something. It’s the only therapy I’d turned to over the years. And even then, I’d fallen into it in secret.
“Kian?”
“Yes?” he asks, twisting around slightly to look back at me.
“Actually, there is something I want.”
“Name it.”
“A flew blank sheets of paper and some pencils.”
He gives me a smile and nods. “I’ll send someone out here with both soon.”
“Thank you.”