“It’s not like that,” he said, quieter now. “Last night meant everything.”
Tears burned her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “I think you should go.”
“Aisling.”
“Now.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His jaw clenched.
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I mean it. Get out.”
The silence between them stretched like a chasm. Finally, he nodded once.
Ronan turned and walked back toward the bedroom, silently grabbing his clothes and dressed in quick, angry movements. He didn’t say another word.
At the door, he paused.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, voice like steel wrapped in velvet, “I meant every word I said last night. But I get it—you think this was all a setup. You think I’m just another Gallagher chasing your land. Fine. But hear me now, Aisling, give me time. I’ll fix this. And if Séamus doesn’t tear up that cursed agreement himself, I swear to God, I’ll burn it, and anything else standing between us, to the fucking ground.”
She didn’t answer, couldn’t. Her throat locked around the ache. Another betrayal, another man unraveling the thread of her trust. First her father, then Michael… and now Ronan. Like clockwork, every man she let in found a new way to rip her open.
The door closed behind him. And she realized she still wore his shirt. Damn it!!
Aisling stood in the kitchen, numb, heart pounding. The envelope sat on the table, mocking her.
Love, land, loyalty.
All tangled. All poisoned.
She sank into a chair and let the tears fall.
CHAPTER25
By Sunday morning, Aisling hadn’t moved from the couch.
She sat curled under a faded quilt that smelled faintly of cedar and ghosts. Her pajamas were wrinkled, her hair a wild tangle around her shoulders, and the half-eaten slice of toast she’d made hours ago lay abandoned on the coffee table beside her cold cup of tea.
The kitchen was silent. It was the weekend, and the workers were gone. The hammering that had filled the house for days had stopped—and with it, the distraction she so desperately needed.
Instead, it was just her and the ghosts of her family. Her, and the ache sitting heavily in her chest like an anchor she couldn’t rip free.
Ronan was gone.
Her father hadn’t answered her email.
The world felt like it was caving in, and she didn’t have the energy to stop it. In fact, she hoped it would take her out when it completely caved.
A knock sounded at the back door.
She ignored it.
Another knock. Louder this time.
“Aisling Maeve O’Byrne, if you don’t open this door, I swear to the saints I’ll come through it myself!”
Bríd.
Aisling groaned but forced herself to throw off the quilt and shuffle toward the door. She cracked it open, just enough for Bríd to barrel inside with the fierce energy of a woman on a mission.
