Page 12

CHAPTER 12

Dee

C onnor Kelly came into the pub an hour before opening time, his mailbag slung across his chest.

“Mornin’, Dee.”

“You’re not getting a pint, Connor. It’s too feckin’ early, and you’re working.”

“Not here for that, love.” He was being pleasant and careful, not a barb in sight. Oh, I knew what this was about. My heart sank to my boots. There was only one reason Connor would show up inside and not just leave the mail in the box. He was delivering registered mail from the County Clare Council addressed to Deirdre Gallagher, Ballybeg. Because, of course, it would come to me.

After all, I was the eejit who started the petition in the first place. I’d gone door to door, rain or shine, getting every last signature from the citizens of Ballybeg to protest the resort development. I was the one who stood up at the town meeting and convinced everyone it was worth fighting for. I’d dragged every farmer, shopkeeper, and granny with a working pen into this, and now I was the one left holding the bag—literally.

I wiped my hands on a tea towel and forced a smile. “You couldn’t have left that one in the bag and pretended you lost it, could you?”

Connor chuckled nervously. “Not how the postal service works, pet. Besides, you’d only hunt me down.”

“You’re right. I would.” I wanted to cry. I really, really did. In my heart, I knew that our chances had been slim, but there had been hope. Now, depending on what this letter said, there wouldn’t even be that.

Connor hesitated, then took a small clipboard from his bag and slid it toward me. “You’ll need to sign for it, lass.”

Of course, I did. Because when you put your name on the line to fight for your village, they make damn sure you were the first to hear the bad news.

I scrawled my name on the clipboard and handed it back to him. Connor reached into his bag and pulled out the envelope, its edges crisp and official, with the County Clare Council’s seal staring up at me like a smug bastard. He held it out to me but didn’t let go right away.

“I’m gonna stay right here with you when you read it,” he said firmly. “Y’know, in case it’s….”

“Bad news?” I finished for him.

He shrugged, sympathy in his eyes. He was a resident of Ballybeg, so it wasn’t like this was a tragedy only for me; it would hurt all of us. “Come on, Dee, you’ve weathered worse. This ain’t nothing.”

I sighed, taking the envelope from him. “Alright, but if this ruins my day, Connor Kelly, you’re buying the first pint tonight.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a faint grin, parking his arse on a barstool.

I turned the envelope over in my hands, running my thumb along the edge of the seal.

“I should wait until I’ve had a whiskey,” I muttered.

“It’s barely ten.” Connor raised an eyebrow.

“What’s your point?” I quipped, tearing the envelope open with a swift motion before I could talk myself out of it.

I yanked the letter out, the County Clare Council’s official seal glaring at me like a bad joke. I scanned the opening line. I was expecting it, but my stomach dropped all the same. It was one thing to be afraid of what was to come and another to know it was here.

“Well?” Connor straightened. “What’s it say, love?”

Before I could answer, Ronan came through the kitchen door, wiping his hands on his apron. He glanced between me and Connor. “What’s this then?”

I handed him the letter without a word, too busy trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat.

Ronan squinted at the text.

“Read it out, will ya, lad,” Connor requested.

“We regret to inform you…blah, blah, blah…regardless of environmental concerns, there is significant economic opportunity for County Clare….” His voice trailed off, and he swore under his breath. “Bloody bastards. They’re rejecting the petition. Ignoring it entirely. They’re going to vote to approve the resort.”

Connor sighed. “Feckin’ hell.”

I crossed my arms tightly over my chest as if I was holding my pain together. I’d lose the farm. I didn’t have enough to pay the taxes on it, and they wanted to buy it, pave it, put a feckin’ parking lot on it.

Ronan slammed the letter onto the bar, his face red with frustration. “Do they not care? About the land? The cliffs? The bloody history of this place?”

“They care about money, Ronan. And there’s a lot of it tied up in this resort.” I felt my legs wobble, so I sat on a stool next to Connor.

Connor frowned. “What will we do now?”

I blinked at him, shaking my head. “I don’t know. What else is there to do?”

“We can’t give up.” Ronan put his hand on my shoulder.

We would, though, I thought.

The developers would now come to the farmers and those who owned land around here with big pots of money. Everyone had bills to pay, lives to lead, kids to send to university, and debts to pay. They’d take the money, and slowly but steadily, Ballybeg would disappear. I wouldn’t be able to hang on to the pub, not without customers, and why would fancy golf resort people come to a rundown Irish pub where we served the country stew with the champ?

The wind had been knocked out of me.

Every late night I’d spent organizing, every argument I’d had with villagers reluctant to sign the petition—it all felt meaningless now.

Connor looked at me, his voice unusually gentle. “You’re not beat yet, Dee. Ballybeg’s not the kind of place to go down without a fight.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did. But right now, all I could see was the black and white of that letter, spelling out the beginning of the end for everything we’d been trying to protect.

The pub door creaked open behind me, and we all turned to see Jax come in. He was drenched in sweat, coming straight from the gym. He saw the look on our faces, and his usual grin faltered.

“What happened?” he asked, coming straight to me, his hands cupping my cheeks, gently wiping away the tears I hadn’t even realized were falling.

I took the letter resting on the bar counter and handed it to him. His eyes scanned the page, and he looked back at me, his expression dark.

“Damn, greedy, short-sighted dickwads,” he raged.

I chuckled and then sniffled. He did some creative cursing, I had to give him that, almost like an Irishman.

“Dee, baby, it’s going to be alright, okay?” He leaned down, his blue eyes sympathetic and kind.

“Nothing’s ever gonna be alright,” I choked out from a throat that felt too tight.

He pulled me up and held me close. I leaned into him and heard the kitchen door closed and then the front door. Connor and Ronan had left me alone with Jax. Did they feel it, too? How he comforted me as no one else could? That I let him?

He pulled away from me and kissed my forehead. “I want you to take the day off.”

I scowled. “And who’s gonna run the bar?”

“Me,” he said simply.

He grabbed my hand and before I could protest, led me upstairs. He took me to his room.

Fine, I thought. Yeah, sex would be an excellent distraction. Sure, we could have sex. I wanted the man, and I knew he wanted me.

He left me sitting on his bed and went into the bathroom.

He came back out. “Come on, beautiful. I’m running you a bath.”

I didn’t have a bathtub. I took the rooms with the shower cabinet so guests would have nicer bathrooms.

“What?”

“I think you need to rest, relax, take a bath, and then a nap.”

I raised both eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“First, bath. Then, breakfast. Then a nap. I doubt you’ve been sleeping well.”

It was disconcerting how good it felt to be taken care of. No one did this for me. I was the one who ran baths and told people I’d do their work for them so they could rest. But I was so tired—so very exhausted—and maybe that was why my eyes filled with tears again.

“Ah, darlin’.” Jax sat next to me and pulled me back into his arms. “I promise, Dee, I’m going to make this better.”

He couldn’t, I knew that, but it didn’t matter; I liked that he at least wanted to. Ballybeg looked at me to fix this—and I didn’t know how to any longer. I had lost again . I had lost Maggie and my parents, and now I was going to lose my home, my village, and everything that mattered to me.