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closer, the stains on the front of his shirt became clearer.
Distinct dark, reddish-brown splotches came into view.
Redirecting his focus to Ciaran s face, he hurried toward him.
Something dirtied his face as well.  Oh my God, Ciaran. Are you
all right? he said, while grabbing the horse s bridle and
directing him to the alley next to the pub.
Ciaran beamed with a dumb expression.  Yeah, I m great
actually, he said as if proud. His body swayed with the motion of
the cart.
 What s happened to you? Is that blood on your shirt?
Stopping the horse at the side door to the pub, he raised his
hand to help Ciaran down.
Ciaran slapped Shannon s hand away.  I can get out of the
bloody cart. He lumbered down.
As soon as Ciaran stepped on the ground, he seized him,
drawing his body hard against his own. He buried his face
against the side of Ciaran s head.  What happened? How bad is it?
Did you come up against more Black and Tans?
 What s all this then? Iona stepped out from the side door to
the pub.
Tossing Ciaran away, he spun around to face her, glaring.
 See? He shouldn t have gone alone, he s hurt! The one thing he
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couldn t handle was seeing the young man he loved hurt. Anger
flooded his senses and he wasn t sure exactly whom to direct it
at.
 Just a minute now. Ciaran, are you all right? What happened,
sweet boy? she asked in a calm voice.
Ciaran smiled.  I won. That s what happened. You should
have seen it, Shannon. This bloody awful man was shouting at
this poor woman. Well, I wouldn t have none of that. So I got
between them and I told the man, leave that woman alone! And
he told me to make him. So you know what? I bloody well did. A
loud chuckle escaped him.
 What do you mean you did? His anger faded. Terror
gripped his heart.
 Um, he swung at me first and well, I got a bit of a bloody
nose.
He gasped.
 But you should have seen me, Shannon. I clobbered him
good, twice even, and he ran off, Ciaran said, puffing out his
chest.
Iona grinned.  Well, I m proud of you, Ciaran. You did a
good thing. She nodded her head in encouragement.
Shannon continued to glare at Iona.  What do you mean? He
could have gotten himself killed!
 Hush, Shannon, don t be such a mother hen. Be proud for
your friend, she said.
 But, I 
 See? Don t be a mother hen. Ciaran let out a snicker.
He grunted, grabbing Ciaran by the arm. He hauled him into
the side door of the pub, up the stairs and through Iona s flat
into the bathroom. He hurried to wet a washcloth. His hand
swiped the washcloth in harsh dabs over Ciaran s face, cleaning
the dried blood from it.
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 Shannon.
He dabbed.
 Shannon.
He dabbed, harder.
Swiftly reaching up, Ciaran snatched his friend s furious arm
by the wrist.  Stop.
Fear raced through his body. Pain filled his eyes as he looked
into Ciaran s bloodied face. He whined,  You could have been
killed, Ciaran. How could he have been so thoughtless? A
mixture of dread and sadness welled up in his chest.
Ciaran s stern expression softened.  Listen, I didn t kick off. I
didn t even come close to kicking off. I m fine, really. I m sorry. I
didn t mean to scare you.
His eyes met Ciaran s for the first time since he had this new
understanding of himself. Terror seized his heart. What was it he
saw in those green eyes? Did he dare think he saw something
more than friendship? It was definitely different. Something
definitely changed. Where they d gone, there was no turning back
to how they were. This thing between them was way beyond it.
Somehow in the space of a few days, they both grew more
emotionally than in the last few years.
Jerking his wrist free, he embraced him. He clung to Ciaran
in desperation, as if loosening his hold would mean losing him
altogether. He whispered,  No, Ciaran, I m sorry. I have to trust
you. I have to have faith in you.
Ciaran returned the firm hug.  Shannon, I 
He let go and stood in front of Ciaran, studying his face. His
hands hung loosely on his friend s hips.  You what? He
searched Ciaran for some sign of what he wanted to say.
Ciaran shifted his gaze to the wall.  Nothing.
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead onto Ciaran s
temple, shutting his eyes tight. The moment was intense between
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them again. How was he supposed to deal with this? Tears stung
his eyes. A lump formed in his throat. He gulped and shut his
eyes tight. Everything churned to come out, all the frustration and
pain welling up in his chest since he was fourteen, since the day
his sordid acts with Mr. Flannigan were discovered and his
teacher disappeared. But couldn t allow it. Not now, not when
everything was so mixed up with Ciaran. He buried it again.
 Okay, he said softly. Taking a deep inhale, he released his
friend and stepped out of the bathroom.
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Chapter 5
Whiskey
iaran stood alone in the bathroom, examining the white
tiles on the floor. What was he about to say to Shannon?
C
What was this feeling, this ache that kept gnawing at him?
Was it, he shuddered to think of it, love? But he d known him all
his life. He was his best friend. How could he be in love with
him? And if he was, which he certainly wasn t entirely sure of,
why now? Or, did he always feel this way about him, it just
needed the help of a drunken night in a hotel room to surface?
Confusion and uncertainty threaded through him. There were so
many questions and he had such little experience with which to
draw answers.
Shifting his weight onto one foot, he lifted the other to press
the toe of his brown loafer into a crevice in the tile. So what, if
anything, should he do about the current situation? Shannon was
certainly behaving differently, too. Holy shite, he actually hugged
him for once. Did it mean he had feelings for him, too? Maybe
Shannon was struggling the same way he was?
He turned to the door. Well, maybe the best course of action
was no action at all. It would all work out in the end. It had to,
right? He sauntered out of the bathroom to the stairs.
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* * * *
As Shannon came downstairs, he thought his heart might burst.
How were these intense moments happening with Ciaran? They
left him unsettled and anxious. He looked over the pub as he left
the stairway. It was filling up. He scanned the room for an open
table. He found one in the corner, walked over to it and sat
down. Laying his arms across the table in front of him, he hung
his head. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]