Page 6 of Whiskey & Witches
Carrick heard Roisin’s heartbreak through the closed door. Her sobs became louder with each passing minute. He placed the flat of his hand against the weathered wood and hung his head. As if, somehow, that simple touch could alleviate her pain.
It couldn’t.
He found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. Roisin couldn’t maintain a glamour for any extended amount of time, and the sight of her disfigurement would certainly send Aeden spiraling into the dark abyss associated with the accident. As it was, their son was convinced monsters were out to destroy their entire family.
No, despite the fact he loved Roisin, Carrick needed to keep her and Aeden separated until she could keep a disguise in place for longer than an hour or until their son’s mental state improved. Their beloved boy was Carrick’s number one priority.
As he meandered home, he wondered—not for the first time—if he should have an honest conversation with Roisin. If he should remind her his love for her would never die and beg her to grab what small happiness they could when stolen moments allowed. Even as he had the thought, he discarded it. They’d already been down that path, and she was too proud to settle. Without a doubt, she’d insist he was only with her out of duty.
His heart ached at the remembered sight of her pitiful attempt to cover her scars. The network of raised, angry keloids crisscrossing her face and causing her sightless eye to droop might be grotesque to some, but he saw none of that. Her inner beauty and magic shone too brightly.Hewas the one blinded inherpresence. If only Aeden could see it the same, perhaps then, they might begin to rebuild their lives.
Carrick’s hand tightened around the neck of the bottle Roisin had given him. A tear trailed down his cheek, and he swiped it away with the back of his hand. She’d faced it all—rejection, ridicule, constant physical pain—with a brave heart and a defiant tilt of her chin. The residents of their tiny village had never cared for or treated Meg well, and yet, Ro courageously posed as her much-hated sister as they looked for a way to help fully recover her magic.
To anyone else, her sacrifice might not make sense; however, Carrick and Roisin felt this way allowed her to visit Aeden on occasion and prevented their son from encountering gossiping gobshites without a care for his feelings. Neither Roisin nor Carrick had considered what it might look like when he went to the cottage to check on his wife. The more critical members of their village liked to speculate on his “affair” with Meg.
If Carrick hadn’t already loved Roisin before today, he certainly would have after. The elixir in his hand spoke of a genuinely good soul who cared more for a seven-year-old child than she did her own wants or needs.
“Ah, Ro,” he whispered to the wind. For the millisecond he was able to hold her, he thanked the Goddess Anu. The bittersweet feel of Roisin in his arms, along with the smell of her lilac-scented skin, nearly drove him mad from his need to hold her forever. And for the moment, he believed she enjoyed being held by him, too. The light caress of her fingers through the fine hairs on his forearm, the deep sigh she expelled when her back connected with his chest, and the slight softening of her stance before she remembered to put up her guard, all spoke of a deeper desire to be close.
Carrick opened the gate and smiled at Aeden, who waited so patiently on the stoop for him to come home. “Hello, my boyo.”
“Hi, Da,” Aeden signed. He had no smile for Carrick. Indeed, his son had forgotten what it was to laugh. Their only hope lay in the liquid contained in the amber bottle and the spell in his pocket.
And perhaps a new therapist.
The old one had done nothing to help him get past the trauma.
Piper Thorne, his brother Cian’s American fiancée, stepped out of the open door and graced Carrick with a wide smile. “You’re back! That was fast.” She placed one hand on her slightly protruding belly and ruffled Aeden’s shaggy blond curls with the other. Soon, she’d have another O’Malley child to spoil. “Aeden and I had a wonderful time while you were gone.” She cast a quick glance around and said, “I conjured my cousin Winnie’s infamous cinnamon rolls. They’re as big as a plate and dripping with the tastiest icing you’ve ever eaten.”
Aeden’s eyes lit with hero worship as he looked up at her. She smiled down at him with the same expression. Carrick told himself that Piper and his sister Bridget might be all the female influence his son would need. But inside, he knew himself for a liar, all the same.No onecould replace Roisin.
“Did you accomplish what you needed?” Piper asked.
“Mostly, but I’m not sure it made a blind bit of difference.” He gave her a tight smile. No one knew the truth of his relationship with his not-really-deceased wife, and he intended to keep it that way as long as possible. Aeden believed Ro was in stasis. The rest of the world thought her dead. It was for the best until their son healed in mind and spirit.
Carrick held up the bottle in his hand. “I brought Aeden a new medicine to try.”
A sullen look settled on his son’s hauntingly thin face.
“Look, I’m told it will help,” Carrick told him. His resolve was firm. Whatever it took to make Aeden a normal child again, he’d do.
“Wow,” Piper said softly, her enchanting honey-colored gaze intent on the bottle. “It has to be a powerful witch to brew what you’ve got. I can see the pulse of magic from here.”
Both he and Aeden frowned at the cobalt blue glass.
“Are you codding me?” Although Carrick could tell a witch from a normal mortal from their glowing aura, he’d never been able to tell if an object was infused with magic or enchanted due to his family’s curse. For two-hundred-and-fifty years, they’d been without real power because some thieving O’Connor stole a sword the O’Malleys had promised to protect. The god Goibhniu, who’d entrusted the weapon to Carrick’s family, didn’t take the loss well.
Piper laughed lightly at his question and shook her head. “If that means kidding you, then not at all. I suppose if you had your abilities, you’d see it. Did a spell accompany the potion?”
“Yeah, it did.” He wasn’t sure why he was hesitant to pull the paper from his pocket, but he was.
Her narrowed eyes assessed him, then the bottle.
Wordlessly, he handed her the written note from Roisin. She studied what he’d given her in silence.
“Well?”
“I can’t see where it wouldn’t work.” Piper handed the paper back. “It’s worded correctly.”
