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I glance at him, my lips twitching into a small smile.“Takes one to know one.”

“You’re not afraid of the fight, are you?”

“No,” I reply, meeting his gaze.“Are you?”

His smile returns, slow and dangerous, but he doesn’t answer.Instead, he picks up the champagne and refills my glass, his eyes lingering on me.

The conversation shifts after that, lightening as we tease each other over who was better on the jet ski.But Eamon’s question stays with me, the way he asked it, the way he looked at me like he was trying to figure out more than I was willing to give.

And for a fleeting moment, I wonder if he already knows.

I’m startled awake by the sharp, insistent ringing of my phone.My heart jumps into my throat as I blink into the darkness, disoriented.The room is still, the only light coming from the faint glow of my screen.

Ruairi.

I’ll call him tomorrow.The last thing I want is to argue with him right now.I swipe to deny the call and lay back against the pillows, trying to calm the sudden rush of unease.

The phone rings again.

He’s not going to give up.I exhale shakily and answer it this time, whispering, “What the hell are you doing calling me in the middle of the night?”

“Why are you whispering?”There’s a beat of silence.“Forget it.It doesn’t matter.”

“Hang on a minute,” I say as I slip out of bed, glancing toward Eamon’s sleeping form.He’s still, his breathing steady.Quietly, I slip out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me.“What’s going on that couldn’t wait until morning?”

Ruairi’s voice comes through, tight and unsteady in a way I’ve never heard before.“There’s been an accident.”

I freeze, the words not making sense.“What kind of accident?”

“Mam and Da,” he says, his voice thick.“They were on their way back from a fundraising gala.A truck hit them.Head-on.They didn’t make it.”

The floor feels like it drops out from under me, and I grip the arm of a nearby chair for balance.“That’s not funny.”

“Do you think I’d joke about something like this?”he snaps.

I stumble onto the sofa, the phone trembling in my hand.“You’re wrong.They can’t be?—”

“They’re gone, Aoife,” he says quietly, his voice breaking.

The words hit like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs.My vision blurs, my chest heaving as I try to process what he’s telling me.They’re gone.

“No,” I whisper, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead like I can somehow stop the spiral of grief swallowing me whole.

Ruairi inhales shakily on the other end of the line.“You need to come home.”

I blink, unable to focus through the haze of panic and disbelief.

“The resort’s driver is waiting for you,” he says firmly.“I’ve chartered a plane.It’s ready for you at the airport.”

“Ruairi, I—” My voice cracks.I want to argue, to tell him I don’t know what to do, but the words won’t come.

“You don’t have to do anything except get on the plane,” he says, his tone softening, even though I know he’s barely holding it together himself.“I’ll be waiting for you when you land.”

The call ends, and I sit in the darkness for a moment, staring at nothing.I’m numb.

The words replay in my mind, over and over, a cruel loop I can’t escape.My parents.Dead.Just like that.

A sob threatens to break free, and I press a hand to my mouth to stop it.I can’t lose it right now.I don’t have time.