I read it off the screen of my phone.

His head drops forward with a curse, telling me Brian and Patrick either live a good distance away, or it’s a bad section of Dublin. I’m betting on the latter. The drive only takes about ten minutes but the atmosphere in the car is so strained, it feels like an hour. Light-years away from the lightheartedness of this morning. I miss it. I miss not having to overthink, and now I’m playing Whack-A-Mole with my worries and insecurities. Did I overstep my bounds? Is he regretting last night, trying to figure out the quickest way to get rid of me?

Part of me is actually a little relieved to think these typical thoughts because they distract me from the big picture. In a week, I won’t be here to run interference between Shane and Faith. To witness this family’s tragedies and victories anymore. I’m just along for the ride.

We pull up in front of a row of connected houses, desperately in need of a paint job. Children are kicking a soccer ball around in the street, using overturned garbage cans as goals. I’m sure to Shane, this looks like poverty. But I’ve seen what poverty looks like, I’ve lived it, and this isn’t it. These people are making an effort. Their cars are clean, they have banners for their favorite sports team hanging in their windows. The kids are laughing, wearing warm jackets.

I follow Shane up the path to a red two-story house. When he knocks, I can hear the laughter inside cut off immediately. He notices it, too, and shakes his head. Without a thought, I reach over and take his hand. He looks at me in surprise, which makes me uncomfortable, so I stare at the door willing it to open. I feel a sudden, fierce need to be on his side here. I’ve said my piece, and I’ve ruined our morning. He’s about to face a firing squad for being a caring brother and dammit, he shouldn’t always have to be the bad guy. Hell, if I’d snuck out without telling Ginger where I was going, she and Derek would have kicked the fucking door down to drag me out of there. Maybe I think he’s overreacting, but he badly needs an ally.

The door swings open and Faith is framed by the peeling, white-trimmed frame. She crosses her arms over her chest, and I notice she’s wearing my Clash T-shirt. Probably not a good time to ask her about it, though, because she looks righteously pissed. “Listen to me well, brother. I’m not setting foot outside this house with you. I’m a grown woman who knows her own mind. Just because I’m your sister doesn’t mean I don’t have womanly desires. I need a boyfriend to get that sorted.”

“Jesus, Faith,” Shane and I say at the same time.

Brian appears behind Faith, laying a calming hand on her arm. “You know, my ma can hear you, love.”

Faith flushes a little, but doesn’t lose her head of steam by any means. “You might as well get in your silly car and drive back to the inn. At the moment, I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll be in for my shift later, but I’m taking the bus.”

I raise an eyebrow at Shane. He smirks at me before addressing Brian, who for all intents and purposes is cowering behind Faith in the doorway. “Fine. But I’ll have a word with him before I leave.”

That gives everyone pause. Shane is planning on leaving Faith there? I try and get a read on him, but his face gives nothing away. Faith and Brian exchange a perplexed look.

“Whatever you have to say to my boyfriend, you can say in front of me.” Faith’s spine is so straight, I’m positive it will snap at any moment. Brian nods in agreement. Clearly Faith is wearing the pants in this relationship. “You’ll be gone soon, Shane. You won’t be around to chase me across Dublin every time I do something you don’t like. Say what you have to say. I’m old enough to make my own choices.”

His face shows no reaction to that, but his grip on my hand increases fractionally. He nods at Brian. “You’ve had two opportunities now to introduce yourself to me. Once at O’Kelly’s and the other night at the Claymore. If you’re going to date my sister, that’s the least you could do. Maybe even…come to the Claymore for dinner some night. Meet Kitty.” He clears his throat, rolls his shoulders. “It’s just how it should be done.”

Brian gulps audibly. “Right. I’d love to.” He shifts on his feet. “Sorry, man. I didn’t think you’d want me around her.”

“I’m not thrilled about it.” When Faith narrows her eyes at Shane, he holds up a hand. “But I’d feel that way about anyone. She’s my sister. She deserves to have this done properly. Come to the Claymore.”

Without another word, Shane grips my hand tighter and leads me back toward the car. I cast a quick look over my shoulder to see Faith gaping after her brother, mouth hanging open. Inside, I feel the same way. How did I not see that coming? Orla’s words from the other night come back in startling clarity. Irish men are a complicated sort. They’ll knock you on your arse when you’re not looking.

“Shane!” Faith is running after us on the path. “Wait.”

I let go of his hand and step back just in time for Faith to throw herself into his arms. Over her shoulder, Shane’s startled eyes meet mine. Slowly, his arms band around her, and he holds her close, as if he can’t quite believe what’s happening. What he made happen. Unable to watch it for another second, or I’ll burst into tears and ruin the moment, I pull open the passenger side door.

“Beyoncé, are you not staying for tea?” I turn at the sound of Patrick’s voice to find him standing in the doorway, wearing an apron and holding a kettle. “I cleaned the mugs with soap and everything.”

I send an inquiring glance at Shane, who is already shaking his head at me. “I’ve made more than enough concessions for one morning, girl. Get in the car.”

Smiling to myself, I wave apologetically at Patrick and climb inside.

…

When we reach the Claymore, we both seem to be in thoughtful moods. Shane appears a little thunderstruck over the scene with Faith, but every so often, I feel his gaze slide over me from across the car’s console, heating me a little more each time. There’s something different about the way he’s looking at me now, but I can’t figure out what. It’s still ripe with attraction, but there’s speculation now. If I wanted to drive myself crazy, I could analyze that look to death. I’m even feeling close enough to him to ask him straight up. But it’s getting late in the morning, and I know Shane has to set up the bar for lunch. We walk inside to find Orla cutting up lemons, the delicious smell of soup filling the space, courtesy of the new cook, Samuel.