“I called Colm on the way here,” Tris said to Padraig. “He’s on his way, son.”
Oliver was glad to hear that. Padraig had suffered so much loss in the last few years. He was only just now starting to move on after Mia’s death. Oliver was afraid to consider what this might do to his beloved cousin. Padraig would need the support of his twin brother, Colm, if the outright desolation on his face was anything to go by.
The firefighters continued to fight the blaze for what felt like hours, though realistically, Oliver doubted much more than an hour had passed since they’d escaped the pub.
The EMTs looked over him and Gavin briefly, but both of them refused to go to the hospital, despite his mother’s insistence. Lauren and his two dads had arrived later than the others. Because they didn’t work at the pub, they didn’t have the alarm system app on their phones. Instead, they’d found out about the fire after a call from Aaron.
The EMTs offered them blankets, reminding Oliver that he, Gavin, and Erin were decidedly underdressed for the winter weather. Hell, they were all barefoot. Seemed weird to him that he couldn’t even feel the cold.
More and more of the family began to arrive, all of them in various states of dress as they’d been pulled from their beds, called by loved ones. Shoulder to shoulder, they stood across the street, watching, until at last, the water was shut off and the firefighters began to stow their equipment.
“It’s out,” Aaron said, crossing the street to them after a brief chat with the fire chief. “Most of the fire was contained to the first floor. There was…a substantial amount of damage.” Aaron stumbled to explain, and it was clear he didn’t want to say that the pub and the restaurant had been completely destroyed. “There’s water and smoke damage to the upper floors. Most everything up there is…a total loss as well.”
“How did it start?” Ewan asked.
Aaron shrugged. “All they can tell right now is it started in the kitchen. The fire inspector will come by in the morning.” Aaron seemed to realize it was already morning, dawn breaking, and corrected himself. “In a few hours to take a look.”
Riley gasped. “The kitchen. Pop—” Riley’s voice broke as she wrapped her arm around her father’s waist. “It’s my fault.”
“What?” Pop Pop asked.
Riley and Padraig exchanged a glance, and Gavin cursed beside Oliver.
“Shit. The outlet?” Gavin said.
“What outlet?” Oliver asked.
“One of the outlets in the kitchen stopped working this week. I kept breaking the circuit, overloading the other outlets.” Riley looked at Gavin. “I wish I’d…”
“No. Don’t. I should have insisted on looking at it Tuesday night,” Gavin said quietly.
Riley shook her head. “My fault. I told you it could wait until the weekend.”
“It’s no one’s fault,” Pop Pop said.
Riley refused to believe that. “You’re wrong. God. I can’t believe this! Can’t believe I fucked up so—”
“Language, Riley,” Pop Pop said, cupping Riley’s face and giving her a gentle smile. His grandfather had said that word to all of them more times than any of them could count, not that it had done a damn bit of good when it came to curbing their love of curse words.
“But, Pop—” Riley started, the joke missing its mark.
“I won’t hear another word from you, young lady,” Pop Pop said in a stern tone Oliver had only heard a handful of times in his life.
Riley nodded, though it was clear she wouldn’t stop blaming herself. Oliver hated seeing the pain, the guilt in her eyes.
Apparently, Aaron didn’t like it either. He put his arm around his wife and kissed the top of her head. “It’s not your fault, Riley. Let it go, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.”
Riley twisted and buried her face in her husband’s chest, holding on to him tightly.
Pop Pop stepped off the curb and took a couple steps toward the pub. Oliver wondered if he was trying to get a closer look, and he was ready to intervene before his grandfather got too near. Not only was it unsafe, but he didn’t want Pop Pop to see just how bad it was. It looked horrible enough from this side of the street.
However, Pop Pop surprised him when he turned his back to the pub, facing all of them, still huddled close together.
“Everything that matters,” Pop Pop said, his voice surprisingly strong as he held his arms out, gesturing to all of them, “is on this side of the street. Everything.”
Oliver looked around and saw his beloved family standing side by side, healthy, whole, alive. Erin and Gavin flanked him, and when he considered how much worse this could have been if they hadn’t been able to get out, if he’d lost one or both of them…Pop Pop was right.
“We’ll rebuild it, Pop,” Oliver’s dad, Sean, said, stepping next to his father and placing his hand on his shoulder.
Pop Pop smiled. “Of course we will.”
“We’ll make it better than before,” Uncle Killian added.
“We’re going to rearrange our schedule at J and K Construction,” Uncle Justin added. “Pat’s Pub just moved up to the top of our list of projects.”
“My brothers will help too,” Layla called out. “Moretti Brothers Restorations. I promise you, they’ll be able to make it look exactly the same.”
For the first time since waking up to the alarm, the two-ton weight that had been pressing on Oliver’s chest began to lift. The Collins family might get knocked down, but damn if they didn’t get right the hell back up again.
It was then that Oliver remembered the ornaments. He’d been cupping them in his hands through everything, unwilling to release them. He glanced over at Gavin, who nodded, holding up the two in his hands, aware of where his thoughts had traveled.
The two of them walked over to Pop Pop, palms upright, revealing what they held.
Pop
