She trailed after me, and when we reached her front door, I opened it and turned back to look at her. Her hair was wild, her lips pink and raw, and her dress all twisted and wrinkled, though she’d tried to smooth it.

She was perfect.

Just . . . perfect.

Why did I have to be so bloody mature these days?

But I knew why.

I knew building something lasting with Eilish was only going to happen if I wasn’t greedy. Didn’t push. Let her dictate the pace. Our eyes locked for who knew how long, as though searching for answers neither one of us was ready to give.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I nodded once, making a promise.

She dropped her eyes to the floor. “Sure, sounds good.”

“Hey,” I said and reached out to touch her cheek one last time. “Are we okay, Eilish?”

Those intense eyes looked deep into me, cut me right to the core. I’d never get over them, not in a million years. I wasn’t sure how to read her, but I hoped to God she wouldn’t back down from her want. She wants me.

I won’t mess this up. I can’t mess this up.

“Yes, we’re okay, Bryan. You’re right. You need to go.”

Relief. Sweet, sweet relief. I hadn’t messed things up.

I leaned down, pressed a swift parting kiss to her lips, and then I left. Begrudgingly. Every part of me wanted to stay and do naughty things to my nice girl.

***

“I brought dinner,” I called out with a smile as I let myself into Mam’s house, a bag of Indian takeaway under my arm.

There was movement from the living room and my mother shuffled out to meet me, effectively throwing a bucket of cold water over my already dodgy mood.

“Bryan. That smells delicious. Come in, come in,” she croaked, gesturing down the hall to the kitchen.

After my sweet encounter with Eilish last night, I’d been feeling pretty good about life in general. As I went to sleep, I replayed every moment, remembering her moans, how she felt, how she responded to my touch. Kissing her was divine. Tasting her would have been even better.

But then, when I’d arrived at her apartment today to visit with Patrick, she’d been nowhere in sight. Sean greeted me at the door, but said nothing about Eilish’s whereabouts. She hadn’t returned by the time I left.

And now this.

I followed my mother, taking in her appearance. Her hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in days, and she wore a housecoat over what I was sure was a nightie. She also reeked of booze. Stale booze. It seeped from her pores.

Most of the time she was a functioning drinker, but every once in a while she had periods like this where she barely left the house. My chest bloody ached for her, because I’d been there. She’d taught me how, after all. The only difference was I’d had the strength to change. She didn’t.

I hated when she got like this, but at the same time there was a flicker of anger in me. Some days I just wished she’d get her shit together and be a grown-up. Act right. Let me focus on myself for a while instead of constantly worrying about how she was doing.

I’d come to tell her about Patrick, now I wasn’t sure. I’d planned to discuss it with Eilish, but couldn’t as she’d made herself scarce. My mother didn’t look ready to hear I had a kid, that she had a grandchild.

“You unpack the food while I grab some plates.” She turned to search in the cupboard. I knew just by looking at the place that all the dishes were dirty. The sink was piled high.

Mam blew out an irritable breath when she discovered this fact, turning and casting me a sheepish look. “I-uh-I’ve been under the weather,” she lied. “Maybe we could just eat out of the containers?”

I stared at her. Stared and stared. She was a mess. I knew this. I couldn’t change her, I knew that, too. But damn if I didn’t want to shake some sense into her, yell at her, threaten her until she agreed to change.

Instead, I clenched my jaw. “Go take a shower and I’ll do the dishes, then we’ll eat.”

“Pffft,” she huffed, waving me away. “I’ll shower later. Let’s eat now.”

She made a grab for the bag. I tugged it away. “We’re not eating until you’ve washed and put on some fresh clothes. Actual clothes, Mam, not pajamas.”

Her lip quivered and I instantly felt a twinge of guilt. Since going sober, sometimes I was too hard with people. But being too soft, too easygoing, was what got us here in the first place. Maybe if I hadn’t coddled her all these years she wouldn’t be so comfortable living like this.

Her expression hardened and she folded her arms over her chest. “If you came here just to boss me around you can leave. I’ve had a rough week and I don’t need this right now.”

“How?”

Her brow crinkled. “How what?”

I leaned both hands on the counter. “How have you had a rough week?”

She glanced away, her lip quivering slightly. “Your father got engaged.”

My eyes widened. “He did?”

She nodded, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “To some little twenty-five-year-old hussy.”

I sighed and then dropped onto a stool. This wasn’t the first time my dad had remarried. In fact, if I was counting correctly, this would be his fourth wife. Mam was his first, but he left when I was a toddler. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I knew he wasn’t necessarily a bad guy. He just didn’t like his women any older than thirty. Not exactly a praiseworthy quality.