Page 39

Teagan

I’m not entirely certain what universe I stepped into, but it feels like an alternate reality. My Ma not only swore, but she yelled at Da, who is laughing, actually laughing! I’ve never heard the man laugh, let alone seen a smile on his face. Tommy is crowin’ like a feckin’ rooster. I abandon him to his fit, hoping I can get a closer look at this phenomenon that’s happening in my parents’ kitchen.

I must be dreamin’. Tarrah is giggling with a pile of potato skins in front of her, while Ma is absolutely scarlet, laughing so hard that tears are pourin’ down her cheeks. Da is bent at the waist, hands on his knees trying to catch a breath. In the middle of it all is Layla, who looks like a stag caught in the headlights, her eyes are so wide. It’s mostly confusion, but there’s a spark of mischief in there too, and I wonder what she’s been at while I’ve been mucking out sheep pens.

“You alright, mo chroi?” I ask, maneuvering around the man that looks like my Da, but can’t possibly be.

“Yes?” she answers in the form of a question. “I’m not really sure what’s happening right now, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, that makes two of us. Seems like we both had an interesting time apart, yeah?”

Giving me a curious look, she asks, “What happened while you were away?”

The clones of my family members have finally pulled themselves together enough that the laughter has died down and they’re now staring at us.

Tommy strides in, points at me and says, “Teagan grew a pair and told Da he feckin hates sheep, that he loves you, lass, and doesn’t plan on leaving the States anytime soon.”

I cringe. “That’s not exactly how that happened.”

What did happen is that my Da wouldn’t let up, so I did something I’ve never done before. I lost my temper.

The hammer I’d been using went flying over Da’s head into the wall, leaving a nice hole, and I raged at him. I poured all of the years of suppressed anger out onto the dirt floor of the barn, then followed it up with my dreams, which did include loving Layla and staying in the States. I told him that I resented him for how he made me feel as a lad. How he was a shite father to all of us. In that moment, I honestly thought he was going to haul back and hit me his face was so red, but he did something so unexpected that I actually thought I’d died.

He hugged me. Hard.

I’m not ashamed to say that I wept like a babe in his arms, wrapping my arms around his sturdy form to return the embrace. Not to be left out, Tommy jumped in, covering both of us with his spindly arms.

When we finally broke apart, Da’s eyes were suspiciously red as he clasped my shoulder firmly. “I’m sorry, son. Not just for being a right shite to ya, but for taking so long to have this conversation. I never wanted to be this kind of father, but I felt like I was failing all of you wans by not being able to provide the way a man should. I poured myself into work and it got the better of me.”

After twenty-seven years of hardly speaking at all, we will have to learn how to talk to each other properly. It will be a process, but for once, I’m actually looking forward to spending time with him. If healing can be found, I’d love nothing more than to start fresh with my family and forge new relationships with them. I’m not naive enough to believe it will be all leprechauns and rainbows from now on, but it’s a start.

* * *

We stayed at my parents’ house for several hours, eating the dinner Ma prepared with Layla and Tarrah, and catching up. Conversation was stilted at times as we navigated this new territory, but eventually we found a good rhythm. There was more laughter in that sitting room than I think there’s ever been.

Tarrah and Gerard disappeared for a while, and only my sister returned.

“Tarrah, love, are you alright?” Ma asked as she craned her neck. “Where’d Gerard run off to?”

“Erm, actually, he left. We, uh, broke off the engagement.”

A collective gasp fills the room, followed by a shout of joy from Tommy that makes all of us chuckle, even Da.

“Sorry, Tar, but he was a bleedin’ melter, that one. You’ll be better off.” My brother tells her decidedly, conviction lacing his tone

Tarrah glares at him. “Don’t hold back now, Thomas. Tell us what you really think!” Turning her attention to our parents, she says, “I’m sorry. I know you liked him, but I just couldn’t take the way he talked to me like I was an absolute eejit all the time. And,” she stops briefly, color rising on her cheeks, “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but he’s an awful ride.”

Da chokes on his beer while Ma turns scarlet, fanning her face with her hand.

“Jaysus, Tarrah!” Tommy cries. “No one wants to hear about you and Gerard’s bedroom activities! Fecking hell.”

Layla and I chuckle quietly as Tarrah begins to read him the Riot Act.

When it’s time to say our goodbyes, Ma begs us to stay, but right now? I need my lass all to myself. The tension and subsequent explosion have left me drained, and nothing sounds better than curling up with her in my arms. That wouldn’t be happening at my parents’. There’s a quaint little B&B above a local pub that was all too happy to rent out a room when I called them earlier.

The drive is short, and check-in is simple enough. The older woman at the front desk leads us to our room, giving us a saucy wink before scurrying back to her station. A sigh of relief leaves both of us as soon as the door clicks shut. The space is cozy and tidy. There’s a queen sized bed to the right of the door covered in fluffy blankets and pillows. Past that, there’s a small sitting area with two overstuffed chairs facing the window. To our left is a simple bathroom housing the jacks, a sink and vanity, and a surprisingly large Jacuzzi tub.

Leaving our bags by the door, we shed our jackets and shoes. Layla sinks onto the bed, laying on her back, and closing her eyes. That dark curtain of hair fans across the blankets and all I can do is stare. She’s so fucking beautiful.

“You’re staring, guapo.”

“Aye, it’s true. Can’t help it,” I tell her as I crawl over her, trapping that luscious body between my arms and legs. I lean down, brushing my lips across hers.

“You’re beautiful.” I kiss her cheek.

“And sexy.” A kiss to the spot below her ear has her giggling.

“And stunning.” My lips meet her throat.

“Mmm,” she moans.

“And I need you naked right this fecking minute, Cailín.”

“Okay,” she breathes.

“That’s a good lass.”

It takes less than a minute for us to shed our clothes before we fall back on the bed. Our movements are hurried, full of searching hands and frenzied kisses, like we’ve been waiting ages for this moment and can’t get to each other fast enough. Layla’s fingers dive into my hair as I grip her thigh, looping it over my hip. In one swift thrust, I’m inside her. We both groan, our kisses settle into deep, languid strokes of our tongues. I thrust leisurely, savoring the way her lips part with every gasp. Rolling us, I’m graced with the incredible view of Layla riding me, her body undulating with each rock of her hips. She cups both of her breasts, squeezing them and pinching her nipples. One of her hands slips down her soft stomach where her fingers find her clit. I’m simultaneously turned on and jealous. Watching her take her own pleasure is nearly as hot as giving it to her. When her breath starts to come out in short pants, I’ve reached my limit, no longer willing to share.

“That’s my job, Cailín,” I growl. Grabbing her fingers, I suck them into my mouth, tasting the sweetness of her arousal.

“Then hurry up and get to work, Papí.”

I clutch her hip in one hand, pinching her clit between the fingers of my other.

“Fuck!” She cries out, her body jerking at the contact.

“That’s right, baby.” I grunt as I punch my hips up harder. “The only one who makes you come is me. If you use your fingers, it’s because I’m guiding them. If you use a toy, my hand will be wielding it. Your. Pleasure. Is. Mine.”

I emphasize each word with a hard thrust, never pausing my assault on her clit. She’s babbling in Spanish, head thrown back far enough that the ends of her hair tickle my thighs. The sensation brings me closer to the edge.

“Papí,” the whispered plea falls from her lips, and I refuse to deny her.

“Come for me, Layla.”

She shatters, calling out my name as the waves of her orgasm roll through her. When I feel her pussy clamp around my cock, my head falls back and presses into the pillow. I spill into her with a strangled cry. I pull Layla down to me, wrapping my arms around her tightly, while air saws in and out of our lungs. Soft and full lips kiss my chest while her fingertips trace the pattern of the tattoo on my bicep.

“I love you, mo chroi. ”

Layla sighs happily. “Tú eres mi todo.”

I’m internally berating myself for not knowing Spanish when I ask, “What does that mean?”

“You are my everything.”

I’m already gone for this lass, but when she says things like that? It feels like my heart is going to burst inside my chest.

“Tú eres mi todo.” The words feel awkward in my mouth, but I want to say them back to her.

Layla carefully slides off of me to nestle into my side.

“I didn’t get to tell you about the conversation I had with your mom and sister.”

I grimace, considering all the things that could have come up. “Do I even want to know?”

“Yes,” she says, kissing my chest. “I think you do.”

She relays everything that was said, and once I got past the part where my sister loves sheep, I reach across the nearly nonexistent space between us. I draw her close, holding her flush against me. She snuggles into me, tucking her head under my chin, and I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the woman who loves me enough to face my family and fight for my happiness.

“Thank you, Lovely,” I murmur, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Layla raises her head, and just like the day I met her, I’m lost in those brown eyes. She kisses me softly before she speaks. “I’m on your team, Teagan. Even the goalie needs defending.”