My father had bestowed on Brogan the approval and affirmation that Stuart believed should have been his, and he’d always hated Brogan for it. It was the reason he'd kicked Brogan in the face all those years ago, it was the reason he'd left Brogan in the mold-infested slum later, and it was the reason he'd eventually shown up at Brogan's office with a gun.
Forgive me. Yes.
Sometimes forgiveness meant letting go.
The dream. Whether my parents and Stuart had really come to me or whether I'd known these truths in my heart all along and conjured my family up in my head to deliver the message, I didn't know. But it was clear to me now—I forgave Brogan, and he deserved my forgiveness.
Sometimes forgiveness meant holding on.
I loved him. Oh God, I did, I loved him. I always had. But love was not separate from trust—it couldn't be. And yet, I'd denied him just that. Guilt stabbed at me more harshly than the knife I'd felt in my side all those months ago.
Brogan was good and generous and moral, and he'd acted against himself as much as anyone else when he'd set out to exact revenge. But then he'd tried so hard to make it right.
I had thought all hope was lost, that there was no fixing the situation we'd found ourselves in. But maybe I'd been wrong. Maybe with love . . . with truth . . . with forgiveness, anything was possible. Please help me make it possible, Brogan.
I was going to go to him and offer my forgiveness and hope to God he'd forgive me, too. He might fight me, but I was going to fight back. I might fail, but this time, the cause finally felt entirely worthy.
**********
I took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage I possessed as I knocked on Eileen's door. I heard footsteps coming toward me and resisted the urge to flee. The door flew open, and Eileen stood there. Her face broke into a huge grin. "Oh, thank ya, Jaysus," she said, hugging me tightly. I let out a small, surprised laugh. "Come in, come in." She ushered me inside, out of the cold.
My head moved around, hardly seeing the décor of her home, my eyes only set on finding one person.
"He's not here yet," she said. "He's drivin' in from the city." Footsteps sounded from the room beyond where we were standing in the living room and a second later, Fionn appeared in the doorway.
"Lydia," he said, happiness and surprise mixed together in his tone.
I smiled. "Hi, Fionn." He practically ran over to me, sweeping me up into a hug. I laughed again.
"We've missed the hell outta ya, Lydia," he said.
"I've missed you, too," I said honestly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I saw you in New York—"
"Nah, I never would have expected to run into ya. Brogan not sayin' a thing was a load of rubbish. I told him so afterward."
"I suspect he didn't know what to say," I mumbled. "I didn't either."
"Courtney bein' there was my own bloody fault," Fionn said. "I told Brogan bringin' a woman would balance the mood in a way that would work to our benefit for that particular meetin'. I was tryin' to give him an excuse to contact ya and wanted to throw up on me shoes when Courtney the scanger showed up."
I gave him a wan smile. "It wasn't your fault, Fionn. Brogan makes his own choices." I wasn't sure whether Fionn's explanation should give me some hope or not. There was still so much I didn't know. Deep breath. Forgiveness. Faith.
"Well, let’s hope he makes some good ones tonight." He winked.
Eileen took my coat and purse, and I walked farther into her living room, admiring the beautifully decorated yet comfortable space, noticing the same touches here that were in Brogan's house as well. "Something smells good, " I said. "Can I help?"
"Oh, no, no,” Eileen said, walking toward the kitchen. “It just needs a bit longer in the oven. Do you want some wine?"
"Yes, that'd be great." I rubbed my palms on my dark jeans. God, the longer I had to prepare for this, the more nervous I was going to become. I just wanted him to get here already.
"I'm hopin' for the best," Fionn said. "But I fear he's not gona make this easy on ya. Are ya prepared?"
I looked at him, his expression worried, which in turn made my own nervousness notch up a few levels. "That's what Eileen said. And I . . . I think so. I'm going to try my best anyway."
"I'm just bloody thankful you're willin' to." I nodded, suddenly unsure about this plan. What were my reasons again? I couldn't remember why this had seemed a good idea two nights ago. "He's convinced himself he doesn't want ya to forgive him, and that he's doin' right by ya to stay away." He paused. "Bloody caveman," he muttered just as a loud knock sounded at the door. I jumped, my pulse skyrocketing. Fionn squeezed my shoulder gently and gave me a wink. I stood frozen.
Fionn opened the door and Brogan came in, wiping snowflakes off his hair. It had started snowing? In October? Snow always made me think of my mother and for the whisper of a moment, strength—hope—surged through me. "Mo chara," Fionn said. That's when I saw Courtney behind Brogan. My stomach dropped into my feet and the hope I'd felt a second ago fled. Oh God. I couldn’t do this, not with her here. I wanted to sink into the floor, to run, to disappear. Instead, I continued to stand frozen, staring at them as they started to remove their coats.
Fionn appeared to have stilled, too, when Courtney had appeared. It was obvious he hadn't known she'd be with Brogan. "Jaysus fecking Christ," I thought I heard Fionn mutter under his breath.