Pull At My Heart Page 15

  “Want me to walk you upstairs?” he asks.

  “No, I’m fine. Would you like me to help you up the stairs?” I ask, hoping it sounds as rough as I intended it.

  “I had a few,” he says and shrugs his shoulders. “It’s a bar.”

  “I know that,” I reply, and pat him on the shoulder. He grabs my hand and interlaces our fingers. He stares at our joined hands for a little bit and I take a closer look at his swollen eye. It’s definitely bruised and looks painful. “You should put more ice on that.”

  “I like that you want to take care of me,” he admits.

  “We’re friends. Of course, I want to take care of you.”

  “Friends, yes. We’re friends.”

  “I’m tired,” I plead with him and the message is received. He lets go of my hand and opens the door for me.

  I rush up the stairs and when I get to the top, I look back down and catch Eoghan watching me with those fierce, hazel eyes. I take a deep breath and then keep going up.

  Once I’m in bed, I turn off the light and turn over on my side to get comfortable. I drift away and fall fast asleep. I’m not sure how much later it is, but I wake up when my bedroom door creaks open. Light from the living room spills in and my eyes flutter open.

  “Eoghan?”

  “Yeah,” he says from the doorway.

  “Are you here to say goodnight?” I mumble.

  In my half-asleep state, it feels like it takes a long time for him to respond. When he does, he says, “Yeah, lass. Oíche mhaith agus codladh sámh.”

  “Goodnight and sleep well to you, too,” I murmur and close my eyes. I sense he’s still standing there as I slip back into a deep sleep.

  Eoghan

  Juliana has fallen back asleep and I miss her already. I’m obviously gone in the mind. Have to be. I resist the urge to crawl into bed with her and pull her body to mine, because I don’t think the lass would like it too much, based on how things went downstairs. I’m a feckin’ eejit, all the way around. By trying to play it cool, I probably damaged the only good thing in my life. Christ, the look she gave me when I came back inside from smoking cigarettes with those girls was like a nasty punch to the gut. Far worse than what my dad did to me. But she said it herself—we’re just friends—so maybe not.

  Either way, I don’t ever want her to look at me like that again. So, it’s decided. I’m going to put a stop to that side of our pub business and stop flirting with all the women. Plus, the only girl I want to flirt with sleeps about two hundred meters away.

  The door creaks as I slowly close it, but she doesn’t stir. I barely make it to my end of the flat before collapsing. My bed is an absolute godsend. I strip off my clothes and yank off the covers. I’ve still got road dirt all over me. Basically, I’m a filthy mess and I don’t give a fiddler’s fuck.

  My mind is a swirling mess from too much drink. It doesn’t grasp on to anything solid, just flashes of Juliana in the tub, in my pub, in her bed, and then in mine. But I can’t make it last. Instead, my thoughts turn to my brothers, my mother, my father.

  The last thoughts I have before I pass out aren’t pretty.

  Fuck this day. Fuck my life.

  Pub Life

  Julie

  Eoghan’s bedroom has been closed all morning, which is good. I’m betting he’s hung over and needs all the rest he can get. Meanwhile, I’ve been tiptoeing around the flat so that I don’t wake him. Eventually he emerges, wearing only black boxer briefs and his hair is a total mess. Bedhead looks good on him. He starts to make coffee and I decide to join him.

  “Good morning,” I say, startling him. Did he forget I live here?

  “Morning, lass,” he says. His voice is raw. I’m going to blame the cigarettes for that.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask and sit down at the breakfast bar.

  “Fine,” he lies, and turns back to finish the coffee. I try not to stare at his well-sculpted back or the way those briefs are snug against his ass.

  Focus, Julie.

  “I think I’ll take the bus today. You should seriously get some rest.”

  He looks at me over his shoulder and stares for a moment before saying, “I’ll take you. I just need coffee.”

  He flips the switch on the coffee maker and then goes into the bathroom to take a shower. When the coffee is ready, I pour us each a cup, adding milk and sugar to mine, and just milk to his. Yes, I’ve learned his coffee habits. Isn’t that what roommates do?

  He comes out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist and I avert my eyes to my coffee cup as he walks to his room. I blow out a big breath when he’s out of earshot and shake my head. There is no doubt about it. That man is fine.

  I’m doing my best to stay focused on my coffee cup, so I don’t see—but only hear—him pad across the flat to the kitchen. When I look up at him, he seems brighter and more alert.

  “Thanks,” he says while grabbing his mug. He takes a few long sips, draining the whole cup without another word.

  “Needed that?”

  “Like nothing else.” He grabs his keys and the motorcycle helmets.

  Dylan is the only person down in the pub, doing whatever it is that Dylan does all the time. He’s the one who should be living with Eoghan. The guy is always here.

  As we approach the bike, I tell Eoghan, “You know that you could be sleeping right now, right?”

  “I’m well aware,” he mumbles, and hands me a helmet. We put them on and he gets onto the bike first, then helps me on.

  I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his shoulder. He smells so good that the memory of last night slips away. I let out a long sigh and squeeze him a little tighter. He relaxes back into me and I’m reminded about how well we fit together. He pushes us off the kickstand and the bike roars to life.

  As we ride, I lose sight of the scenery and get lost in thoughts about Eoghan. He’s become important to me and I want him to be all right. All the drinking he does while working can’t be good for him. It seems to me that it might be a coping mechanism for his family problems. Whatever it is, I only want good things for the best friend I’ve made in Ireland. I want to be that for him, too, and as I dwell on that, it’s no surprise that I start feeling guilty about my part in last night’s events.

  When we get to the office, I climb off the bike and put my helmet in the saddlebag.

  “Listen,” I start, and he takes off his sunglasses to meet my eyes. “I want to say thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, lass.”

  “Yes, I do. For everything. I’m sorry I made you worry last night. I won’t do that again. I’ll always let you know where I’m at, okay?”

  He hears me and nods slowly, never breaking our eye contact. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

  I keep going, “But I need to always have options and I need to be able to get around. I’m going to take the bus after work tonight. I need to learn how it works.”

  He opens his mouth to protest and I put a finger against his lips. That stops him. A smile forms beneath my finger and his eyes are sparkling.

  “I’ll see you at home,” I say, and then lean over to kiss his cheek. I take off, not giving him the chance to argue with me. I take a look over my shoulder before I go inside. He’s sitting on his bike, watching me with a goofy grin on his face. Apparently it’s contagious, because I’m grinning the same way.

  When I get to my desk, I find my purse and laptop bag waiting for me. I look over to Aiden’s office, which is empty, and breathe a huge sigh of relief.

  After last night’s shenanigans with Eoghan, I didn’t get to have the proper freak-out about the fact that Aiden tried to kiss me in the car. Not cool at all. I feel like I’m on really slippery ice with this whole situation. No matter which way I move, I could easily fall on my ass. In this case, my career would pay the ultimate price.

  To my relief, there’s an email from Aiden at the top of my inbox. It’s addressed to all of his direct reports
and it’s letting us know that he’s going to be in Germany for client meetings the rest of the week. I slouch back in my chair and enjoy the weight that’s been lifted off of me, even though I know it’s temporary.

  With space between us, it’s easy to jump right back into my high-performance zone. I do such an incredible job at the office all week that I don’t feel too bad about lending a hand at the pub after work every night. Pub life’s great. It’s full of good people, the music’s killer, and everyone just seems happy. Even Eoghan, and that’s saying something after recent events with his family.

  Basically, it’s felt festive and folksy and everything I expected Ireland to be. By the end of the week, I know I’ve made the right decision to move in above the pub with Eoghan. Like it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done.

  Speaking of Eoghan, he’s been working behind the bar each night. Like, actually working the way Dylan does, not the way his flirty alter ego used to do. I don’t know what’s up with that, but I’m not complaining.

  He watches me a lot, even when he doesn’t think I notice. Like tonight, I can feel his eyes on me as I serve thirsty customers. I’m not sure why he does it, but I like it. I feel this invisible tether between us, like I’m never far out of his reach and there’s something to that. Something safe. As I circle back around to the bar, he smiles at me, and there’s a lot of lovely light in his eyes.

  “Hey, lass.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Take these pints over to the band?” he asks with a wink.

  “Sure thing,” I reply, probably a little too excited. I’m a bit of a Stormy Crickets’ fangirl. Like, they are about four-levels cooler than I am. The whole band is so talented, but Liam is out of this world. His voice cuts straight through to me like a hot knife through rich Irish butter. Eoghan enjoys teasing me about my mad crush on the band. I don’t mind. He’s so right. After all this time, I’ve always kept my distance. That’s about to change and I’m completely nervous.

  “I love your songs,” I tell Liam after setting down his pint.

  “Cheers. We’re always glad to hear that. You’re Eoghan’s girl, right?”

  “Girl?” I ask, and arch my eyebrow soap-opera style.

  “Emm, Julie, right?”

  “Right,” I answer.

  “Eoghan told me you’re a photographer.”

  It’s weird to picture Eoghan talking to Liam about me. It’s actually a little exhilarating, but I’m not sure why.

  “Amateur photographer, but yeah.”

  “Do you pick up jobs? We’d love to get some new band shots.”

  “Really? Yeah, of course. I’d love to help you with that.” My eyes are bulging out of my head, which must make me appear real cool.

  “How much do you charge?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing. I wouldn’t charge you. It’d be my pleasure.”

  “Grand,” he replies, and smiles up at me.

  I walk back toward the bar, my empty tray tucked under my arm, and catch Eoghan’s eye. I mouth the words “oh my God” and then I’m stuck in place, smiling like an idiot. “They want me to photograph them!”

  Eoghan nods his head and inches up a crooked grin. “Congratulations.”

  I point my finger in his direction. “Did you put them up to it?”

  “Nah, lass. Liam was asking after ya and I mentioned you’re a photographer.”

  I study him for a bit and he cracks under the pressure. His smile deepens and it makes me laugh. “You’re such a liar.”

  He flings a towel over his shoulder and shrugs.

  The band saunters back on stage with their half-finished pints in tow.

  “Are ye well, Cork?” Liam says into the microphone.

  The crowd lights up and cheers, raises their glasses, and stomps their feet against the aged hardwood floor.

  “Here’s a choon for all you Corcaigh boys and girls,” he says, and the band starts up on what sounds like an Irish punk song. For some reason, this one above all others gets the crowd really riled up.

  Before he starts to sing, Liam says, “And this one is also for Cork’s newest heartbreaker, Julie.”

  I nearly drop my tray of empty pint glasses and spin around to check out the band. I catch Liam’s smile from the stage and he tosses me little nod.

  People bounce in their seats and those on their feet can’t help but move. Most everyone sings along, and especially the words, “Where’s me jumper?” I’m suddenly being whisked into the crowd by Eoghan, who’s left his station behind the bar. I set my tray down on an open table and join in.

  He holds both of my hands as he stands in front of me and basically starts jumping up and down. It’s hilarious. I can’t stop laughing and it’s on the verge of embarrassing.

  “What are you doing?” I shout.

  He doesn’t answer, of course. Instead, he sings along with everyone else, as if it’s his God-given duty.

  Ruth joins in and we spin around in a circle. I steal a glance over to Dylan, who stayed put behind the bar. He’s watching her with a wide smile on his face. These two. When are they going to get it through their thick skulls that they belong together?

  That night, after everything is cleaned up and closed up, Eoghan and I are hanging out in our kitchen while he makes us some toast.

  “So, where do you think I should do the photoshoot?” I ask him.

  He gets out a butter knife from the drawer and thinks for a moment. “Well, the pub, of course.”

  “Of course,” I say, even though I wasn’t sure that’d be okay. I’m thrilled with that idea, but I need something more. “Do you know a good place to take portraits?”

  The toaster springs two pieces of brown bread and, with careful fingers, he pulls them out and onto a plate. “There are places all over the city.”

  “Yeah, I can think of some good outdoor spots, what about somewhere inside?”

  He slathers butter over both pieces, takes one for himself, and hands me the plate with the other one. “I’ve got just the place.”

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, and stuff the toast into my mouth.

  “Yeah,” he says, and points downward.

  “Besides the pub.”

  “Not the pub, lass. The floor below us.”

  “The storage room?” I ask with an arched eyebrow.

  “I’ll clean it up. It’ll be class. The exposed brick will work well, yeah?”

  Inspiration practically blinds me. I can imagine exactly how to photograph the band there.

  “Yes, it will be perfect. Thank you, Eoghan,” I tell him, and suddenly feel like I’m once again in his debt. “How will I ever repay you for all your generosity?”

  He’s quiet for a moment before he says, “It’s my pleasure, Juliana.”

  Eoghan

  It’s a chilly morning in early October and I’m walking down the hill from my mam’s house toward the pub. I’m shaking from the cold—at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

  It was another bad night, and I am lost about what to do. This time, my father didn’t come home. We haven’t seen him since the night he came to nick Mam’s jewelry. No. This time, some very bad men came to the house looking for him. Seán tried to call me, but I missed it altogether. So, while I was having a grand old time in the pub with Juliana, like I have been the past couple of weeks, my brother faced it on his own. I hate myself for not having a better handle on everything. I hate myself for letting my family down. And I hate myself for not being able to keep my head on straight when Juliana is around.

  The second I got the message early this morning, I rushed over there. Not that it did much good. Mam was tattered and worn out. Seán, too. They told me what went down. How the men banged so hard on the door that the shelves shook. How one of them was carrying a crowbar. How the other one had a huge scar across his face. The brutes didn’t say much. They just wanted to know where my dad was.

  I wish I could say this was the first time something like this had happened. It isn’t.
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  When there was nothing left to hear and no more consoling I could do, I left the taxi with Seán and headed back home.

  I’ve been so wrought with anxiety this whole walk home.

  When I go through the pub doors, I let the warmth envelope me and close my eyes for a brief moment. Dylan’s behind the bar with his checklist and he looks up at me.

  “Everything all right?” he asks.

  “Not in the least bit,” I answer.

  He doesn’t say another word, but he’s someone I trust completely. He gets it. He’s a better brother to me than the three that moved away.

  “My dad’s in deep.”

  Dylan nods.

  “Two thugs harassed my mam and Seán last night. I missed it,” I tell him, and then rub my hands over my face.

  “Don’t beat yourself up.”

  “Too late.”

  He nods again, and waits a patient beat for me to say something else about it. I don’t, so he changes the subject. “A load of boxes came today for Julie,” he says and points back at the storeroom.

  My heart, which has felt stuck in mud all morning, jumpstarts. I had no idea that I had some underlying fear that needed to be soothed.

  She’s here to stay.

  “The rest of her stuff,” I tell him, and crack a nearly impossible smile after the crap morning I’ve had.

  Dylan raises an eyebrow and then says something a little uncharacteristic. “You’ve got it bad, boy.”

  He’s right—I do—but I don’t tell him so.

  “I’ve never seen you like this. You still want me to keep my promise? To not let you do anything stupid, ya know?”

  I take a deep breath and consider it. Nothing has changed on her end. I told her we’re just friends. She’s really moving in now. I’d hate for her to take her boxes and run. I’ll have Juliana any way I can get her. “Yeah, make sure of that.”

  “Need a hand getting those boxes upstairs?”

  “No. I need the work.”

  I need the distraction.