Unfixable

Shane looks at me sharply.

“I mean, I think I know where she would have gone.”

“Where?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

He searches my face. “Ah God, not the street performer.” I bite my lip and Shane looks up at the sky, as if praying for patience. “I don’t suppose you know where he lives?”

The way he asks me, I know he’s mostly hoping I say no. “Brian and Patrick both live with their mother, but I have no idea where.” I rummage through my bag for my phone, feeling Shane’s sharp eyes on me. “I have Patrick’s number, though.”

Shane laughs without humor. “Patrick, is it? Well, I’ve been dying to kick his ass. I guess I’ll have to settle for his brother.”

“You can’t.” The hand holding my phone drops to my thigh. “You can’t go in there like you did at O’Kelly’s and drag Faith out. She’ll never forgive you.”

His jaw hardens, and I feel sick over our peaceful morning slipping away. I already miss the warm ease of it. “She can add it to the growing list of things she hates me for, because I’m going to get her. She’s my little sister.”

“She’s one year younger than me.”

He shifts on his feet. “Jesus, I could have done without hearing that.”

Shaking my head, I dial the phone. Kitty is still standing in the doorway of the inn, only now she’s feeding the toast from her apron to a group of gathering pigeons. Patrick answers on the fourth ring, his voice groggy. “They say it’s an ungodly hour, but that can’t be right since an angel is calling me. What’s the weather like in heaven today, sweetheart?”

One look at Shane’s face tells me he heard the gist of Patrick’s words. Hoping to spare Patrick’s life, I turn my back and walk a few yards away. “Oh, I’d bring an umbrella. There’s a storm brewing.”

“Thanks for the warning.” It sounds like he’s propping himself up in bed. “Does this have anything to do with the girlish giggling coming from my brother’s bedroom? Or is Brian just playing dress-up with Ma’s clothes again?”

Thank God I’d walked out of earshot. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Mind texting me your address?”

“Ma!” he shouts, forcing me to yank the phone away from my ear. “Put the kettle on. Beyoncé is coming over for a visit.”

A smile plays around my mouth. “Don’t let her go to any trouble. I doubt we’ll be staying for a social visit.”

“We?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Shit.” He sighs. “Ah, Brian is due a good fight, anyway. It’s been days.”

Hiding my nerves over Patrick’s final comment, I hang up the phone. I turn to Shane just as I receive the incoming text message with the address. His eyes are unreadable, but his posture makes it pretty obvious he didn’t like me walking away to talk on the phone to another guy. Since I wouldn’t like it either, though, I don’t give him any shit for his needless jealousy.

“The address, Willa.”

I push my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, ignoring the shiver that goes up my arm when he growls at me. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll come with you.”

“We don’t need a referee.”

“You totally need a referee.” I start toward the inn, noticing for the first time that Kitty has gone back inside. “But I’m not going for you, I’m going for Faith. When you drag her out of her boyfriend’s house for doing something every other eighteen-year-old is doing, she’s sure as shit not going to get into your car. She’s done nothing wrong and she shouldn’t have to take the bus by herself.”

“Nothing wrong?” He’s right behind me as we enter the Claymore, of course, our feet pounding on the floorboards of the pub. “Leaving without telling us where she’s going? Worrying my mother sick?”

I don’t say anything, just turn and look at him. He finally hears himself and his features cloud over. It’s not what I meant to do. I didn’t set out to make him realize he’s getting angry with Faith for the same thing he did at her age. Leaving without a word, worrying his mother. But there it is. It’s unavoidable. Wishing I could take back the last five minutes, I walk toward him with no idea what my intentions are when I reach him.

He turns before I get there, walking stiffly toward the office. “Meet me outside in ten minutes.”

Staring after him, regret swimming in my gut, I’m starting to think I push people away whether it’s intentional or not.

Chapter Nineteen

I’ve brushed my teeth, ran a brush through my hair, and changed my clothes. In a replay of the night before, Shane is waiting outside for me with the red car. This time, he’s leaning against the passenger side, arms crossed, expression closed off. When he yanks the door open for me and jerks his chin to indicate I should climb in, I sigh and do as he asks. At the very least, I seem to be getting the hang of picking my battles.

He climbs into the driver’s side. “Address.”

I read it off the screen of my phone.

His head drops forward with a curse, telling me Brian and Patrick either live a good distance away, or it’s a bad section of Dublin. I’m betting on the latter. The drive only takes about ten minutes but the atmosphere in the car is so strained, it feels like an hour. Light-years away from the lightheartedness of this morning. I miss it. I miss not having to overthink, and now I’m playing Whack-A-Mole with my worries and insecurities. Did I overstep my bounds? Is he regretting last night, trying to figure out the quickest way to get rid of me?

Part of me is actually a little relieved to think these typical thoughts because they distract me from the big picture. In a week, I won’t be here to run interference between Shane and Faith. To witness this family’s tragedies and victories anymore. I’m just along for the ride.

We pull up in front of a row of connected houses, desperately in need of a paint job. Children are kicking a soccer ball around in the street, using overturned garbage cans as goals. I’m sure to Shane, this looks like poverty. But I’ve seen what poverty looks like, I’ve lived it, and this isn’t it. These people are making an effort. Their cars are clean, they have banners for their favorite sports team hanging in their windows. The kids are laughing, wearing warm jackets.

I follow Shane up the path to a red two-story house. When he knocks, I can hear the laughter inside cut off immediately. He notices it, too, and shakes his head. Without a thought, I reach over and take his hand. He looks at me in surprise, which makes me uncomfortable, so I stare at the door willing it to open. I feel a sudden, fierce need to be on his side here. I’ve said my piece, and I’ve ruined our morning. He’s about to face a firing squad for being a caring brother and dammit, he shouldn’t always have to be the bad guy. Hell, if I’d snuck out without telling Ginger where I was going, she and Derek would have kicked the f**king door down to drag me out of there. Maybe I think he’s overreacting, but he badly needs an ally.

The door swings open and Faith is framed by the peeling, white-trimmed frame. She crosses her arms over her chest, and I notice she’s wearing my Clash T-shirt. Probably not a good time to ask her about it, though, because she looks righteously pissed. “Listen to me well, brother. I’m not setting foot outside this house with you. I’m a grown woman who knows her own mind. Just because I’m your sister doesn’t mean I don’t have womanly desires. I need a boyfriend to get that sorted.”