A picture message from Rory.
Fuck.
“So she must be the reason you’ve been so MIA lately?” Aisling teases, her dark brow lifted. “I’ve been here all alone.”
Realization slams into me like the weight of a truck. “Shit, Ais, I’m sorry I—”
She holds her hand up, stopping me with a soft laugh. “Cillian, I’m just joking. I’m glad you’re out having fun and not locked away in your room or working yourself to death in the training room. You need this.”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t be leaving you here by yourself so much. What if your sugar drops and I’m not here?”
Guilt claws at my throat, along with a piercing shard of panic at the thought of something happening to Aisling when she’s alone and I’m not here to help. It’s my biggest fear.
Hell, I’m the entire reason she had to pick up her entire life and move to a new country, and I’ve been leaving her alone so I could fuck off with Rory.
“Cillian, stop,” she says, placing her small hand on my forearm and squeezing gently. “Don’t do this. Honestly, you’re kind of suffocating, in the best way. You can’t keep me in a bubble for my entire life, and you can’t protect me from everything. I’m an adult now, and if you’re not home and my sugar drops, then I know how to take care of it. I think moving to America is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
What?
My brow furrows, surprise flooding my face, but she continues before I can even speak.
“I can see you’re shocked by that, but it’s true, Kill. Being here has helped me find myself. Become more independent and not feel so much like a burden.”
“Ais, you’re never a fucking burden,” I mutter quietly, shaking my head with a grimace.
Her expression softens, and she drops her hand, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top. She peers at methrough eyes that look so much like Mum’s it makes my chest physically ache. “It’s just been hard since Mum died, and since coming here, it’s the first time I’ve felt the sun in a long time. I’m happy and I wantyouto be happy too. And it seems like Rory makes you happy, whether it’s temporary or not. You deserve happiness, Cillian.”
The conversation’s turned unexpectedly heavy, and emotion weighs thickly in my throat the way it usually does when we bring up Mum and everything that’s happened in the past couple of years.
“I love you, Ais.”
“Love you too, Kill.” She gives me a cheeky smile when I reach out and ruffle her hair like she’s a toddler, something she pretends to hate but that I’ve done all her life.
“I’m going to make an effort to be around more. I know what you said, but I don’t like the idea of you being here by yourself so much.”
Her eyes roll. “Grown woman now, remember? I’m fine. Plus, I’ve been hanging out with a few of the girls from the astrophysics club. We’ve been getting coffee sometimes.”
Christ. That makes me so bloody happy to hear.
Aisling’s been painfully shy and quiet since she was a kid, and making friends has always been a struggle for her. She’s always been sensitive too. The nurturer while I’m the enforcer. Hearing she’s making friends at Prescott takes a weight off my shoulders that I didn’t even know had settled on them. It makes me worry less knowing she’s got someone.
“That’s great. No boys though.” I grin, earning another eye roll and a scoff.
“Right. Because there’s so many opportunities to meet guys when I’m drowning in classes and now tutoring on the side.”
I shrug. “I love it. Maybe study more, yeah?”
Her giggle rings out through the living room, and I find myself smiling too.
“Remember the bubble you’re not going to keep me in? Applies to guys too, Kill. Sorry, but the overprotective brute of a brother thing isn’t going to stop my dating life, whenever there is one,” she sasses, cocking a brow and giving me a pointed stare. “Not that it’s even a possibility, but anyway, enough about my nonexistent dating life because this is awkward. How about you invite Rory over for dinner tomorrow? I want to meet her.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good id—”
Aisling slaps her hand over my mouth, cutting me off. “I don’t know why I even asked. What I meant to say is be sure to tell Rory that we’re having a pizza-and-movie night tomorrow and to be here for seven.”
I know better than to argue with her because it’ll get me nowhere. Aisling knows she has me wrapped around her finger, and she’s not afraid to use it to her advantage.
Once Aisling falls asleep, midway through the movie she forced me to watch—something about bloody dragons—I finally open Rory’s message from earlier.
