"Aye, Brogan, he . . . doesn't give his heart easily, whether it's as a buddy or more, but when he does, it's yours forever. He doesn't know any other way to be. Do ya hear what I'm sayin'?"
I swallowed, feeling overwhelmed by the statement. Had Brogan given me his heart? Truly? I nodded yes, my eyes moving away, distracted by the questions in my head. We were both quiet for a minute before Fionn spoke again.
"I'm glad to see ya worked through the Courtney issue."
I took another drink of beer. It was definitely growing on me. I took a moment to savor the rich texture and the roasted flavors. "Yeah, he told me about her," I said once I'd swallowed. I pressed my lips together and frowned slightly. "You really dislike her, don't you?"
Fionn reclined back in the booth, seeming to take up the entirety of the side he was sitting on. "Aye. And the feelin' is mutual."
"I can't imagine anyone not liking you, Fionn."
He grinned. "I know, right? Clearly, she's not the full shillin'." He winked. But his expression was serious as he said, "Speakin' of moral dilemmas and Brogan seein' them differently than ya or I might."
I breathed out a small laugh. "Yeah, that intensity is a double-edged sword, isn't it?"
He nodded. "Aye. Like ya said, when he feels somethin', he feels it strongly, more strongly than most I think. Whether that's love or anger or guilt. And it makes him easy to be taken advantage of if the subject of his emotion is a manipulator. Courtney is a manipulatin' cow."
I sighed. "Well, I think he cleared things up with her."
"Jaysus, I hope so. If I never have to hear her whiny voice again it'll be too soon."
I took another sip of beer. "Fionn, can I ask you another question?"
"Anythin'."
"Your business . . . it seems like, well, it seems like you help people for a living."
"Not for a livin', no. There's no livin' to be made in helpin' people."
I tilted my head. "Then . . ."
He shrugged. "Brogan has a number of businesses that make a profit, too. But with or without those, he has more money than he can spend in this lifetime. Helpin' others is what he chooses to do with it. He gives jobs to folks who need them, he helps families find safe, clean housing, and sometimes he helps people with the money to pay this month's heating bill. Sometimes he brings lawsuits against slumlords because no one else can afford to. He helps those who are helpless."
Oh my God. He helps the helpless, and punishes those who prey on the helpless. "Like he was once." I felt a tightening in my chest.
"Aye."
I blinked at Fionn for a moment. The man is a walking miracle. Proof that hope lost can be turned into hope restored. In Brogan’s case, not only for himself, but for the others he assists. Could the man be more complex? "Doesn't Brogan realize that he got back at everyone who ever wronged him simply with the way he lives his life?"
"No, he hasn't quite made it there," he said, a worried frown on his face that made a chill go down my spine for some reason I didn't quite understand in that moment.
Brogan came back to the table right then, interrupting my thoughts and causing me to startle slightly. There was an older man standing next to him.
"Lydia, I wanted you to meet a friend, Father Donoghue." Father? A priest?
"Hello, Father," I smiled, "nice to meet you."
"Well, it's a true pleasure," he said in a thick brogue, smiling broadly. He looked to Fionn. "Fionn, me boy, what's the craic?"
"Aye, dead on, yerself, Father?"
"Dead on. I don't usually see ya without a bird on ya arm."
Fionn looked around. "I'm about to remedy that, Father. Care to join me?"
Father Donoghue laughed. "Ah, no, no, only one woman for me. That was me Mary Catherine. God rest her soul." He looked to Brogan. "She was my only. And ack, what an only she was." Brogan smiled conspiratorially at him as I frowned in confusion. Weren't priests supposed to be celibate? Fionn stood up and clapped Father Donoghue on his back.
"I'll see ya later," Fionn said, shooting us a grin.
"Fionn," I called and he turned. "Thank you." He returned my smile, nodding before slipping into the crowd.
"Father, will ya join us?" Brogan asked Father Donoghue.
"Can't tonight, me boy. I have an appointment, but I'll take ya up on that kind offer another time, like."
We said our goodbyes to him, and Brogan slid back into the booth. I scooted close to him, hooking my arm through his.
He leaned in and whispered in my ear, "I want to take you home."
"Another sleepover?" I asked, tilting my head innocently.
"In a manner of speaking," he said darkly.
I felt a buzz begin between my legs, my nipples hardening against the thin material of my shirt. It had been a near torture to sleep in a bed with him the night before and not touch him. But I'd thought we needed a night like that—a night that was about something other than sex.
The ground I was on with Brogan felt anything but solid, my emotions careening between extremes from one moment to the next. And now that I understood what part of his business was really about, I was even more confused. I admired him so much for helping those in similar situations to the one he'd once been in, but I also understood his need to punish those who had made victims of others, and I still felt like I might be in that category. His feelings for me must be so convoluted. Would we ever be able to truly trust one another? Would he ever truly be able to let go of the past we shared? Especially because Stuart would always be in my life. There was no getting past that. Brogan might forgive me—and I was hopeful he did—but I was doubtful he could ever really forgive Stuart. And where did that put me?