Gavin had been taken to the hospital where they’d put ten stitches in his arm, then he’d spent that night in a group home. The next morning, Margie had delivered him to Sean, Chad, and Lauren’s house.
His mother had been committed to the state psychiatric hospital. In addition to her alcohol addiction and depression, his mother had been diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder, which had given her defense attorney a way to keep her out of prison.
“Given what you’ve said about her, I’m surprised they let her out,” Padraig said.
Gavin wished he was. But he should have known his luck wouldn’t last. “She’s a sociopath and a drunk, but I guess they couldn’t hold her forever. Even though it would be better for everyone if they would.”
Not everyone…just him.
There must have been more malevolence in his tone than he’d intended, because Emmy’s gaze lifted from her laptop, her brows rose in surprise.
He never lost his temper, refusing to unleash his anger on others around him. He wouldn’t be his mother.
“Sorry, Emmy,” he murmured.
She smiled. “I’m sorry for eavesdropping. Bad habit.”
Padraig snorted. “Never heard you admit to that before.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I was talking to Gavin. Not you.”
“Pot, meet kettle,” Gavin teased, grateful to have the chance to change the subject.
Padraig and Emmy laughed and acknowledged they were both accomplished eavesdroppers.
Gavin sighed. He needed time to wrap his head around the fact his mom was out. Though Lauren had offered to take him to visit his mom after he turned eighteen, Gavin had refused, unwilling to face her again after so many years. He figured the biannual gifts were enough, a simple way of appeasing the guilt he felt over abandoning her.
For the last couple of years, all he’d felt in regards to his mom was the guilt tied to his hope that he’d never have to see her again, never have to face her anger over him leaving her alone for so long.
Nine years hadn’t been long enough to sort out his emotions for the woman, and now…fuck. Now he was going to have to face the demons—well, the demon—of his past. Because he didn’t doubt for a second, she was going to find him, whether he wanted to be found or not.
Emmy went back to typing and Padraig studied his face for a moment. “If you need to talk…” he offered.
Gavin smiled. “I appreciate that, but…”
“Not tonight?”
Gavin shook his head. “I gotta figure some shit out first.”
“Alrighty then. New subject. Where’s the rest of your gang?” Padraig asked.
Gavin wasn’t sure he’d refer to him, Oliver, and Erin as a gang. More like a couple, plus one, but he rolled with it. “Date night.”
“Oh, damn, that’s right. It’s Tuesday. Not sure where I lost a day this week. I keep thinking it’s Monday. Hey, Em, remind me Seamus has a vet appointment tomorrow afternoon,” Padraig called out.
“On it,” she said without looking up.
Gavin had always admired Padraig and Emmy’s close friendship. She’d begun hanging out at the pub a couple years earlier, claiming a spot at the end of the bar. Padraig had actually had a nameplate made for her, so that her seat was permanently reserved.
“I swear to God that dog gets more contrary by the day,” Padraig said.
“He’s spoiled,” Gavin pointed out. It was common knowledge to basically everyone in the family that no dog had ever been more loved.
“Blame Mia for that. I’m pretty sure if I’d asked her, she would have said Seamus was her soul mate and the two of them were just doing me a favor, letting me live in their apartment. You know, I’m still finding unopened dog toys that she bought for him stuffed in random, weird places. It’s like she was determined to make sure she remained Seamus’s favorite forever. Because damn if that dog doesn’t know when it’s a present from Mia.” Padraig chuckled as he shook his head.
Gavin laughed. “Mia was awesome, and she did love that dog.”
Padraig nodded, still smiling, and it occurred to Gavin that lately whenever Mia’s name came up, the sadness that used to pervade Padraig’s face was no longer there. He was able to talk about his late wife with happiness, to remember her without drifting to a dark place.
Then Gavin realized Emmy wasn’t typing anymore. Instead, she was looking at Padraig. And the sadness that was missing from the bartender’s face was written all over hers.
The Collins family placed bets on everything under the sun, but the one thing none of them seemed willing to wager on was when Emmy would come clean and tell Padraig how she felt. It felt too personal, too raw. Too…serious to be made light of.
“So, how’s your love life?” Padraig asked, wiping the counter.
Gavin glanced around and realized the place was pretty empty at the moment. The majority of the business was next door on Sunday’s Side as the happy hours had faded into dinnertime, so obviously Padraig was looking for some company himself.
“Nonexistent,” Gavin said.
The lights flickered for a minute, and Padraig shook his head. “Damn.” Then he counted, “Three, two, one.”
Just as he hit one, Riley came into the pub. “Goddammit,” she said as she approached the bar. “I did it again.”
Padraig grinned as he stepped out from behind the counter and headed toward the storage closet in the back. “Yeah. I figured that out. Be right back.”
“What’s going on?” Gavin asked.
“One of the outlets in the kitchen stopped working. I keep overloading the ones that do work and flipping the breaker. Poor Paddy’s had to run to the storage closet four times today to flip it back,” Riley explained. “Ewan’s got a call in to an electrician, but he can’t get here until early next week.”
Gavin tilted his head. “And it never occurred to you to ask me to take a look?”
Riley waved him away. “You just got home from work. It’s fine.”
“Riley—” Gavin started.
“All fixed,” Padraig said, rejoining them.
“Thanks, Paddy.” Then Riley put her hands on her hips when she saw his pint glass. “You have dinner yet?”
He shook his head. He’d intended to head straight up to the apartment, but he’d been waylaid by the news about his mother and then annoyed enough that beer sounded better than food. “I’ll microwave some soup when I get upstairs.”
“Canned soup?”
He nodded.
“No, you won’t. Stay there. Canned soup…” she muttered with disgust. “I’ll bring you real soup.”
“What about the outlet?” he asked.
“It’ll keep until this weekend. You can fix it then,” Riley called out over her shoulder.
Gavin grinned when Padraig reclaimed his position across the bar from him. “Apparently I’m having dinner down here tonight.”
Padraig laughed. “You’ve been around enough years to know that food is love in Riley’s world.” He glanced up when the bell over the door jingled and a couple walked in. “Finally, some customers.” Padraig grabbed a couple menus as he led the patrons to a table and took their drink order.