Sheer Luck (12 page)

As if reading my thoughts, Declan’s smile
slipped. His brows furrowed. “When are you going to start dating
again?”

He meant well, which meant I couldn’t smack
him upside the head and kick him out. I swallowed the bite in my
mouth and took a sip of beer to buy time. “We’ve been over this.
I’m not interested.”

“Amy’s been gone a long time. I know you
loved her, but she wouldn’t want this for you.”

If I hadn’t been so damn selfish, Amy
wouldn’t have been affected by the O’Leary curse. She’d be married
to some other guy and popping out babies. Not six feet under in a
cemetery across town. We’d dated a few months before she’d wound up
pregnant. Good Catholic guy I’d been raised to be, I’d married her.
She’d died nine months later in childbirth. Bled out right in front
of me as I’d helplessly stood there, torn between needing to hold
my son and clutching her hand while the color drained from her
olive skin in sickening degrees.

And I
had
loved her. Maybe not right
away, and it hadn’t been instant like Declan and Lily, but I’d
loved her. Still did, in a way. I often questioned whether my
feelings had been strong enough, the real deal, which brought on
waves of guilt, and then she’d died because of me, compounding more
guilt on top of the growing heap. Yet, that wasn’t my reason for
not moving on. Not the whole reason.

Appetite gone, I tossed my plate on the
coffee table and pinched the bridge of my nose as nausea churned my
gut.

“The curse has been lifted, Aiden. Lily saw
to that, and if there’s any doubt, you only need to look at your
niece.”

I wasn’t as confident as Declan. Sure, it
seemed our bad luck had turned around. Yet, I had no way to know
for sure if my brother had just lifted his own curse or had done so
for the whole O’Leary clan. And yes, Meagan, the first girl in a
hundred years of boys, was a blessing, but I wasn’t totally
convinced she wasn’t a beautifully sweet anomaly.

Our great-grandfather had thrown a woman’s
luck and love away, thus thrusting our family into a wicked curse
of bad luck. Any O’Leary man who deigned to fall in love wound up
losing them. Be it illness, divorce, or death...we’d all been
screwed. Until clever Lily had found a way to reverse things by
giving Declan her love and luck in nearly the same way as our
great-grandfather had been offered.

My brother nudged me with his foot. “Come
on. Even Dad’s remarried.”

I sighed. Dear Old Dad wasn’t exactly a
tally in the pro column. For Declan’s bachelor party, he’d flown us
to Vegas for the weekend. Dad had met a waitress and married her
twenty-four hours after they’d met. There was no way to tell if
they’d last. It had only been about fourteen months, for Christ’s
sake. They lived across town in the house my dad had bought for my
mom. One year after Declan was born, she’d died in a car
accident.

My brother leaned forward. “What about
Sierra?”

Hell. I jabbed my thumb and forefinger into
my eye sockets. I’d had one year with Amy, loving her, and she’d
died for it. I’d had the past nine years with Sierra as a friend,
wanting her so bad I ached, and denying that need had kept her
alive.

“Aiden.”

I sighed and looked at him. “Go home.”

He stared me down, not moving. “What about
Sierra?” This time he repeated the question slowly as if I were an
idiot.

“No.” Over this conversation, I rose and
headed into the kitchen.

Declan followed. “Why not?”

I tossed my plate in the garbage. “Because I
can’t do it again, okay? I can’t take the risk of falling for
someone in the hope that the curse is really gone, only to lose
her.” I’d barely survived Amy. If I hadn’t had Liam to focus on, my
son depending on me, I have no idea where I’d be today.

“She’s perfect for you and she loves
Liam.”

I ground my molars. That was exactly my
point. I couldn’t take Sierra away from Liam, either. “Have you not
heard a word I said? Let me summarize. No.”

He sighed, his gaze softening. “I love you,
man. I just want to see you happy.”

Damn it. “I am happy.”

“No, you’re not.”

My cell chimed a text. “I’m as happy as I’m
going to get. Lay off.” I pulled the phone from my back pocket and
used it as an excuse to avoid my brother’s concerned probing.

The text was from Sierra.
Did you get
home okay?

I’d forgotten to let her know I was home
from work in one piece. She had this thing about me texting her on
Tuesday nights when she wasn’t here to watch Liam.

My thumbs got to work in response.
Yes,
I’m home and breathing. Can’t vouch for the pedestrians I hit on
the sidewalk, though.
She loved to make fun of my driving.

She sent a smiley emoticon, which had me
smiling, too.
Hilarious.

Remembering her finals, I paused before
typing.
How did your test go?
She’d been nervous as hell the
past couple weeks. She was two years younger than me, but hadn’t
had the opportunity to go to college after high school. She’d been
busting her ass the past eight years.

It was a few seconds before her response
popped up.
I passed. I’m a graduate!

I barked a laugh, so damn proud of her.
Rock on. We’ll celebrate this weekend. Grats.

Declan cleared his throat. Loudly.

Right. “You still here?”

His brows arched. “Let me guess. That’s
Sierra? Go look in the mirror. That expression on your face? That’s
what happy looks like. Go look. I’ll wait. Then you can tell me
you’re not interested. Again.”

Irritating little pest. If I didn’t love him
so hard, I might have killed him long ago. “If you don’t leave now,
I’m buying Thing One and Thing Two drums for Christmas. And
speakers. Lots of speakers.”

Declan turned on his heel and headed toward
the living room. “This discussion isn’t over.”

“And I’m serious about the drums.”

He turned at the front door, holding it
open. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Thanks for watching
Liam.”

Nodding, he left.

I dialed Sierra and spent twenty minutes
talking to her, doling out congratulations and making sure she got
the praise she deserved. After ordering her to go to bed, I hit my
home gym and did my usual thirty-minute workout, then showered,
checked on Liam, and crashed.

W
hile waiting for the coffee pot to
finish brewing, I dug some eggs out of the fridge and whisked them
to get an omelet going for Liam. Three hours of sleep had me
dragging, but once I got Liam off to school I could crash for
another few. I needed a new damn coffee maker as this one was too
damn slow.

Liam walked into the kitchen and sat at the
table, chugging half his glass of orange juice like I wanted to do
with caffeine. “Did Sierra pass her test?”

I grinned. “She sure did. Was there ever a
doubt?” I set the plate of eggs, toast, and strawberries in front
of him and went to pour coffee.

“She thought so,” he said around the food.
“I must’ve gone over the study guide with her a hundred times
Monday night.” He shook his head, seeming older than his nine
years.

I took the seat next to him, coffee in hand.
Liam’s light brown hair was a mirror to Amy’s thick locks, his nose
was as straight, but he had my eyes, temperament, and mouth. He
amazed me, my kid. “What should we get Sierra to congratulate
her?”

He tilted his head, strawberry halfway to
his mouth. “Don’t know.”

Sierra didn’t have any family outside of her
grandparents in Nebraska and an aunt in Toledo, so Liam and I
tended to go overboard with Christmas and her birthday. I had
something in mind from me, but wanted Liam’s gift to come from
him.

“I know!” His fork clattered to the plate.
“Let’s fill the house with balloons and flowers. Remember how she
loved the flowers last year on her birthday?”

Nodding, I grinned. “Good idea, kid. I’ll
pick some up after I drop you off at school so they’ll be here when
you guys get back.”

Sierra picked Liam up from school and stayed
with him until I got home. On Friday nights, my manager closed the
pub, and Tuesdays he opened, giving me a bit of a break. He’d
offered to do more, and I was thinking of taking him up on it.
Besides this meager time before school and on weekends, it seemed
like I didn’t see Liam enough.

“Get those orange ones with the big petals.”
He snapped his fingers. “Lilies. She likes those best. And yellow
roses.”

Biting back a chuckle, I sipped my coffee.
“Okay.” Funny how my kid knew Sierra’s favorite flowers. Then
again, they spent a lot of time together. I hadn’t known her
favorite flower, but I did recall orange and yellow being the
colors she gravitated toward most. Cheerful, like her. “Any
preference on balloons?”

“Nope. Just lots of them.”

I ruffled his hair. “Do you need to go over
the list for your spelling test?” Liam excelled at every subject,
but spelling. Another trait he’d inherited from Amy.

“I’m good. Uncle Declan helped last
night.”

Yeah, Declan was a good match for that. He
was a columnist for The Post. He’d helped Liam a lot with English
assignments.

I rose and drained the last of my coffee.
“Don’t forget to pack tonight. Grandpa’s picking you up tomorrow
morning at seven sharp.”

“Okay.”

Since Liam had the next two days off school
for conferences or something, Dad was taking him on a long weekend
fishing trip. Which sucked because not only would my son be gone,
but that meant no Sierra either.

Liam walked his plate to the sink then
grabbed his coat and backpack from the hall closet. “Ready.”

I switched off the coffee maker.
“Teeth?”

“Right!” He raced down the hall to brush,
emerging a few minutes later.

The drive to school was too short and I
missed him already, but I’d always tried not to be overly
affectionate in front of his friends. I pulled to the curb out
front and parked. We got out of the truck and I leaned against the
tailgate. “Love you, kid.”

“Love you back.”

I smiled, watching his form run up the steps
and disappear behind the door. From the moment of his birth, I’d
made sure to tell Liam every day I loved him. Life had no
guarantees, and I never wanted him to doubt he was my world. I’d
gotten in the habit of doing it with Declan and Lily, too.
Sierra...well, I’d been more subtle there.
Sleep well
and
thank you
and
drive careful
and other pithy things
had been my route with her, infusing emotion into my tone as I said
the phrases. They never felt right.

Shoving off the tailgate, I got in the truck
and drove to the florist, then went to pick up my gift for Sierra.
It was going to be a long day, knowing I’d get to see her at the
end of it.

Understatement.

After locking up Irish Eyes later that
night—what, a million years later?--I drove home in a much better
mood than the night before. Quietly, I set my keys down and went
into the living room, knowing she was probably asleep on the couch.
It was rare she waited up for me to get home.

Upwards of a hundred balloons had been
pulled together in three bunches, the strings knotted for easy
travel, and floated by the kitchen doorway. Before I’d left, I had
them free-floating around the room. Five vases of lilies and roses
were set on the kitchen counter. I would’ve killed to see her face
when she’d walked into the house and found the melee.

Walking around the sofa, I sat on the coffee
table, my gaze taking her in. While she was asleep seemed the only
time I could really look at her unguarded. She was curled under a
blanket, her cheek resting on her hand. White-blonde hair fell
around her shoulders and halfway down her back in soft waves. Her
skin was incredibly fair and she had the lightest dusting of
freckles on her pert nose. Her ancestors were Swiss, but I swore
she fell from Heaven and hit every cloud on the way down. She had
that innocent, angelic look about her. Pale lashes shadowed her
cheeks, and behind her closed lids were the most unimaginable azure
eyes. Blue ice, yet they were never cold. Christ. Her mouth,
though? Groan inducing. Full, lush, and naturally deep pink, it had
been torture not pressing my mouth to hers, nibbling that lower
lip.

Nine years...it had gone by in a blink.
Memory punched my mind. The first time I met her had been in a
grief counseling group at the rec center. There I was, fresh off my
shock of losing Amy and with a two-month-old son. Declan had made
me go, and though I would’ve rather been anywhere else, I’d
attended. Sitting right across from me in a folding chair had been
Sierra Reif, gaze cast down and hands primly in her lap. She’d made
no attempt to engage with the group and neither had I. Something
about her had called to me—a beacon, of sorts. She’d looked like a
wrecked angel and I’d wondered who’d torn her wings. I’d spent the
entire hour watching her.