"She forgives ya, mo chara. She loves ya. She's not gona withdraw it to hurt ya later. If ya want the games to be over, you're gona have to trust her. If ya want her love, you're gona have to give her your love in return and for the love of Jaysus, you're gona have to try to see the good in yourself. End your own torment, mo chara, forgive her and forgive yourself."
"I do forgive her," I muttered. And I really did. She hadn't meant any harm to me seven years ago, and in fact, had suffered painfully because of what happened that day. It was because of me she'd been put in a position to have to choose between her brother and me. It was because of me she'd taken my folder—the folder I'd ultimately burned. And for all of that, it was myself I couldn't figure out how to let off the hook. There was no question. I was the villain.
As if reading my thoughts, Fionn said, "If ya can't figure a way to forgive yourself, you're never gona trust her forgiveness." I sighed. I felt drained completely. "Ya made mistakes, Brogan, but you're a good man. Stop punishin' yourself and the rest of us along with ya. This is no atonement."
"I just need to think," I said. Fionn leaned up, his fist connecting to my face once again in a punch that made it feel like my eye had exploded.
I brought my hands to my face, rolling away and sitting up, facing him. "What the feck?" I yelled again for what felt like the tenth time.
"For the love of Jaysus, please stop your bloody thinkin'," he said, sounding as drained as I was.
I stared at him, his face as bruised and battered as mine felt, our shirts wet and ripped and bloody. And I started laughing. He stared at me for a heartbeat and then he started laughing, too, until we were both howling and clutching our bruised ribs in pain. I stood, groaning, my laughter fading as every muscle in my body screamed. I reached for his hand and he gripped mine, as I helped him to his feet. I pulled him into a hug, clapping him as gently as possible on the back.
"Ya got two women waitin' on ya, mo chara," he said when we'd pulled apart. "Make the right choice."
I exhaled, my breath coming out in a white puff. I looked toward the house where Courtney waited. She had shown up at my apartment tonight, crying in fear about her ex-husband, and so I'd brought her with me even though I'd known neither Eileen nor Fionn would be happy about it. Hell, I wasn't happy about it. So what the feck was I doing?
Fionn seemed to follow my thoughts. "Yeah, ya really are an eejit."
I let out a surprised burst of laughter. "I'm the eejit who employs you."
Fionn put his hand on my shoulder. "Listen, mo chara, next time ya get to thinkin' on some subject or another, a good rule of thumb is to ask yourself, what would Fionn do?" He attempted to smirk, or so I thought anyway, but it was all twisted and grotesque, his bottom lip swollen to twice its size, and the movement only made me laugh harder. What would Fionn do? Okay, then.
"Maybe I'll have a T-shirt made." I laughed, but it died quickly. I put my hand on Fionn's shoulder, filled with gratitude. Fionn would be the best damned friend a man ever had. I ever had. That's what Fionn would do. “Thank you, mo chara. Thank you," I rasped.
"You're feckin' welcome, ya wanker," Fionn said, smiling another hideous smile. I smiled back, only feeling a small measure of guilt for the state of him. I figured my face looked pretty bad too. I chuckled as we started for Eileen's door.
**********
"Oh for Christ's sake," Eileen said when she took in the sight of Fionn and me. I looked at Courtney who was sitting on the couch, still, her hands on her knees, looking straight ahead.
"Courtney, can I talk to you?" I asked softly. Her eyes met mine and she nodded. I saw Fionn and Eileen exchange a look before they both left the room, Eileen scolding Fionn for dripping blood on her carpet. I picked up a cocktail napkin off the table next to the couch and pressed it against my lip. I thought it was the only place I was actually bleeding from although I didn't take the time to glance in a mirror.
"I—"
Courtney held up a hand. "It would be the same."
I tilted my head, not understanding. "The same?"
"Bennett. Being with you would be the same as being with Bennett, wouldn't it? If I ever did succeed in actually getting you to make some kind of commitment to me." She rubbed her temples. "Which, God, I've put a whole lot of effort into." She sighed. "But it wouldn't work anyway. Oh, you wouldn't be unkind to me, not outright, anyway, and you'd certainly never hit me, but you'd never love me. You'd end up ignoring me, and I'd go looking for someone else to make you jealous, to fulfill what you weren't capable of providing." She laughed, but it had no humor in it. "I'd be right back where I started."
I couldn't help the sympathy I felt. I had never truly wanted her in any way, especially not in marriage. I realized now that it wasn't only the guilt that had inspired me not to tell her to feck off these last few months, but also the idea that it was exactly what I deserved: being tied to a woman I didn't love, and ensuring Lydia could never forgive me, even if she tried. But that hadn't been fair to anyone. God, Fionn was right. Sometimes my conclusions were . . . flawed.
I sighed. "Yes. I'm sorry."
She pressed her lips together and nodded. "These last couple months, you've never touched me, not once. And the two times I kissed you, the look on your face . . . it was as if I was . . ."