The thought squeezed around her heart. A gulp of cider didn’t push it away, but it was all she had available that might help.
Michael, the local butcher, and Jared from the corner store where she often went to pick up breakfast toastie, sat at the table next to them. The young woman who checked her out at the Tesco on the edge of town chatted happily with a group of teens looking too young to drink, except the legal drinking age in Ireland was eighteen. Wouldn’t that have been fun when she was younger? She could’ve actually participated when her teams socialized after work.
Across the way, a couple of politicians she only knew by sight argued, their wives looking bored. Lyse’s eye was caught by the wild gesture of an arm, bringing her focus to Philippe and Pierre, twins who’d opened a French patisserie a few months before she’d arrived in town. Their pistachio truffles were the best thing she’d ever put in her mouth that Sean hadn’t cooked, but she wouldn’t tell him that. Their storefront was just across the street, the window lit up to display a tantalizing array of gold-leaf-decorated chocolates.
She almost moaned just glancing their way. The sound choked off in her throat as she did a double take that had nothing to do with the treats. That was all due to the shadow standing just beyond the window—the shadow with the right height and width, with the tiniest hint of auburn at the top to be the man she’d both hoped to avoid and longed for with every breath left inside her.
The shadow shifted, heading for the street.
Her glass slipped from her hand.
“Lyse!” Both her companions reached for the glass, but it was Sean who caught it in his sure palm, barely allowing a drop to spill. “Feck it.”
She dragged her gaze back to him. “I’m sorry.”
Sean settled the glass on the table before he turned to her. “Wan, you’re white as a sheet. Let me take you home.”
And risk Fionn hurting him? No.
She sucked in a breath, trying to calm her pounding heart. “I’m okay, I promise.” Standing, she leaned over to brush a kiss across his cheek, then patted Cathal’s shoulder. “Really, I’m fine. Just need a bit of fresh air and to go to bed.”
“We—”
She wouldn’t see them again. What did you say to people who’d made such a difference in your life when you so desperately needed them? Was it better to just walk away or say goodbye?
It didn’t matter; all that mattered was protecting them.
She pointed a shaky finger at Sean. “Stop. I said I’m fine.” Dropping her hand, she let her eyes go soft, reflecting all the things she couldn’t tell him, not now. “You’re right; I’ve got something coming on. A good long rest will fix me up, okay?”
He still didn’t look happy; the glance he shared with Cathal was filled with a determination she could not let him follow through on.
“Hey,” she said, and waited till he looked up at her. “Thank you. Really.” For so many things I can’t say. “I’m going to walk home and go to bed. Stay here and enjoy the night.”
He nodded, his reluctance plain. “I’ll be checking in on you when I get home.”
That would probably be too late, but she smiled anyway. “Take care.”
Lyse left the courtyard before Sean could respond.
Ireland has a lot of sidewalks, the streets fairly well-lit. People spent more time here on foot than they could in Georgia, where the nearest store could be ten miles away depending on how close to a town you lived. She walked along Main Street for a couple of blocks, refusing to rush and give away the game. No one else would get hurt if she could help it. No one deserved to get hurt but her.
The night was still as she turned onto the road that led to her apartment, silent except for traffic, but that didn’t mean she was alone. She could feel him breathing down her neck—figuratively now, though she knew it wouldn’t be for long. She’d imagined his warm breath on her most vulnerable spots for so many years.
A ragged chuckle left her. Whatever was ahead, it wasn’t going to be anything like her fantasy daydreams of Fionn. No, this would hurt; she had zero doubt about that.
The streetlamp on the corner swallowed her in a pool of yellow light. As she turned into her neighborhood, the sound of firm footsteps reached her ears. She didn’t look back.
Step by deliberate step, she made her way down the block and into the drive leading to the apartments. Her landlord and his wife owned the house at the front, facing the road. A large wooden gate across the drive opened when she entered the code. Walking through, she knew better than to feel safe. Fionn wouldn’t let a gate stop him. He wouldn’t let a lock stop him. Nothing would come between him and his prey, not now that he’d run her to ground.
Sweat trickled down her spine despite the chilly November air.
Her unit was all the way at the end. Gravel crunched under her feet, disguising any other sounds. She walked deliberately, refusing to let the adrenaline send her rushing across the space to the false safety of her home. The key she held between shaky fingers could be a weapon, but could she use it? Could she strike out at him to save herself? Would her instincts allow her not to?
Cornered animals fought for
