Page 23 of An Irish Summer

“Right, then,” Collin said as we approached his truck. “We’re really doing this?”

“I thought you were a man of your word.”

We squinted at each other for a second against the bright morning sun before he wordlessly handed over his keys.

“Thanks a million,” I said, smiling at his eye roll.

A few days of distance (and Rhiannon’s departure) evaporated the tension from that night in the bathroom, so I decided to

follow through with our plans to drive the Wild Atlantic Way.

Collin was right; there were things I wanted to know about him. About his history, about whether he treats every woman who

passes through the Wanderer the same. About what the hell we were doing here.

“All right, so it’s a manual transmission, yeah?” he said as I hopped into the driver’s seat. “So to turn it on, step on the

clutch and the brake, there.” I did as I was told, fighting a smile. “Then you put it in gear, so push this up and to the

left, then ease off the clutch and—”

Before he had a chance to finish speaking, I sped out of the parking spot.

“Christ, Chelsea,” Collin said, grabbing the handle on the door. “What the hell are ya doing?”

“You didn’t think you were teaching me to drive stick, did you?” I threw it into second gear, pulling up to the road. I may

have been confident in driving the truck, but I definitely wasn’t confident in doing it on the opposite side of the street.

“God,” he shook his head as he laughed. “It’s your goal to keep making me look like a fool, then, is it?”

“I mean, if the shoe fits...”

I could feel him staring at me, incredulous, but I didn’t risk a glance across the truck. I had to stay focused.

“All right, then, if you’re so confident, why don’t ya get out on the road there?”

I looked back and forth at the passing traffic, trying to determine both when I had an opening and exactly which way to pull

out. And if I wasn’t nervous enough, I had the weight of Collin’s gaze boring into the side of my head.

“Not so easy, is it?”

“It’s your truck we’re in,” I reminded him. “So if I crash it because you’d rather make fun of me than be helpful, that’s

on you.”

“That’s dark, Chelsea.”

“It’s true.”

“Right, then,” he said, clapping his hands together and focusing on the road. “In the interest of not getting us killed, I

think I’ll help you out a bit.”

“Chivalry isn’t dead after all?”

“Stop faffin’ about,” he said. “Focus on the road.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once I had a window between cars, I pulled onto the left-hand side of the road, but not without an involuntary scream.

“You’re fine,” Collin encouraged. “Grand, even. I’ll tell you what to do next.”

I continued driving in silence, trying not to think about how nice it would be to always have someone telling you what to

do next.

There wasn’t much traffic, but that didn’t stop me from thinking every car we passed was going to hit us head-on.

“You can breathe, Chelsea,” Collin said after a while.

“I know that.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?”

I shot him a look, which I regretted as soon as I saw the way his eyes caught the sun. Two sage-green planets, turned to glass

by the brightness of the morning. He looked impossibly relaxed, slouched in the seat with his forearm out the window, so I

figured maybe he was right. I could breathe.

“Lean into the curb on the left, stay wide on the right,” he said as I turned onto another side street. “Lean left, wide right.”

“Lean left, wide right,” I repeated.

Fortunately, we were close to the highway, so it wasn’t long before all I had to do was drive straight.

“Yer a fast learner,” he said as I picked up speed to merge with the other cars.

“I have a decent teacher.”

“Normally, I’d be offended by ‘decent,’” he said. “But from you, I think it’s quite the compliment.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.”

He clucked his tongue but said nothing else, and I resisted a smile at my little victory. It was time two played at that game.

“Where exactly are we headed?” I asked after another few minutes of silence. “Aren’t those cliffs somewhere over here?”

“First of all, if another Irish person catches ya calling the very sacred Cliffs of Moher ‘those cliffs’ they’d kill ya, so watch yourself. And second of all, you aren’t ready for the Cliffs. We’re going in the other direction. Toward the castles.”

“Why am I not ready for the Cliffs?”

“The Cliffs change people, Chels. Or they bring ya back to yourself. They can be quite a lot if you aren’t in the right headspace.”

I should have stopped being surprised when Collin talked like this. In a way that was serious. Contemplative. That made me

feel like glass. Fragile and transparent.

But still, it caught me off guard, and I fumbled around for an answer.

“Are you saying I need to be changed?” I asked eventually, keeping my eyes on the road. “Or are you saying I need to come

back to myself?”

“Aye, neither,” he said. “Only the Cliffs can answer that.” Before I could say anything else, he gestured out the window.

“Right, so we’re going to take this exit up here.”

Still processing our conversation, I tried to refocus on the road. I downshifted to slow down, checked my mirrors, lost my

bearings, and—

“Chelsea!” Collin shouted, reaching for the wheel and jerking us out of the way of an oncoming car and onto the shoulder of

the exit ramp. I was sure the tire screeching was louder in my imagination, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like we were

in an action movie. A really bad action movie, where the main character had no idea how to drive and almost killed everyone

else just trying to get off the highway.

Once our breathing slowed and our heart rates returned to somewhat normal, we dared to look at each other.

I was as mortified as I was terrified, and I’m sure it was written all over my face.

I expected to see the same look on Collin, but what I saw was his usual crooked smile.

Only his lips were pressed together, seemingly trying to contain a laugh.

It wasn’t long before it exploded out of him like fireworks. It took me a few seconds of processing before I could join in,

then the two of us sat laughing like children on the side of the road, half in the way of traffic, not caring a bit.

“Holy shit,” he said as he regained his composure. “I thought the goal was not to get us killed.”

“I thought you were going to help me.” I wiped tears from my eyes.

“I was helping you.”

“You were distracting me.”

“Not on purpose,” he said, and I groaned. “Besides, you’ve been distracting me since the moment you got to the Wanderer, so

it’s only fair.”

“Not on purpose,” I said.

“Thank god,” he said. “If you’d actually been putting effort in, I’d probably have lost my job by now.”

“I’m not so sure,” I said. “I’d say you manage distractions just fine.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, leaning his head against the seat, also seemingly resigning to our position on the side of the road.

“I told ya, Chels, I was just doing my job.”

“And right now?” I asked. “This is also just doing your job?”

“You think I’d be working on my day off, do ya?” I rolled my eyes, and he went on, “We both know this is far from just doing

my job. I meant it when I said it the other night, you know. It’s different with you.”

I wanted to ask how, to urge him to say more, but my heart was still in my throat from a minute ago and I wasn’t sure how much more I could handle. Instead, I shot him a soft smile before unbuckling my seat belt, preparing to switch places.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “You’re still on.”

“After that performance?” I looked at him in disbelief. “God, no. We’re switching seats. You’re driving.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” he said. “You’re grand. Keep going.”

“You’re not going to make fun of me?” I was so surprised I couldn’t resist asking aloud.

“Don’t get used to it,” he teased. “It’s only because I want to survive the rest of this trip. As soon as we’re back at the

Wanderer, all bets are off.”

“Lucky me.”

“If we make it back to the Wanderer, that is.”

“I thought you were being nice.”

“You’re right,” he said.

Once I successfully merged onto the exit, the drive became far more comfortable. I was getting the hang of driving on the

left, and Collin and I slipped back into small talk about the scenery and the weather and the current batch of guests at the

Wanderer. The clouds broke across the sky to reveal a deep summer blue.

“This,” Collin said after a few more turns, “is Sky Road.” The pride in his voice and the gentle smile I caught from the corner

of my eye reminded me why he tours for a living.

There might have been a lot of things about Collin that were still a mystery to me, but if there was one thing of which I

could be absolutely certain, it was that he lived and died by Ireland. And for a second, I wondered whether I felt even close

to the same about Boston.

“You’ll want to be careful here,” he said as we climbed higher along the road. “It gets tight, and these inexperienced drivers

are a real hazard.”

I whipped my head in his direction only to be met with that cheeky lopsided smile.

“Rude,” I said, refocusing on the road in case he was right.

“It’s easy to wind you up,” he said. “Sometimes it’s hard to resist.”

“Well, try,” I said.

“Oh, I’ve been trying.”

With a slow inhale, I continued working my way around the curves in the road. And just as I started to find my rhythm, the

Atlantic revealed herself beyond the cliffside. The water was a deep navy, streaked with white caps of small waves crashing

against the rocks.

“Oh my—”

“Told ya,” he said. “Pull over up here. We can switch now.”

“My driving’s that bad?”

He laughed, but softer than I was expecting. “I want you to see the whole view,” he said.

Once Collin was behind the wheel, he adjusted the driver’s seat and pulled back onto the road. I knew I was supposed to be

looking at the view, but it was difficult not to watch him drive. Not to watch him turn the wheel with the heel of his hand,