I looked at Fionn who was watching me with a small, knowing smile on his face.
"How are ya feelin'?" He glanced at my side where my stitches were. I hadn't even thought of it all day.
"I'm fine." I frowned slightly. "Brogan seems to have taken it harder than he needed to. It's just a scratch, and he solved a situation my brother put me in."
"He blames himself for turnin' your brother down the path of destruction in the first place. Tryin' to convince him otherwise is brutal, like."
"I suppose it was his initial intent." I bit at my lip. "A moral dilemma . . ." I murmured, still not completely sure how to organize it in my mind, especially because I was so close to the subject.
"I daren't say that Brogan knew completely what his initial intent really was, Lydia." Fionn took a long sip of his beer, appearing to use the time to consider his next words. "And aye, a moral dilemma. Brogan ain't that grand with moral dilemmas." He paused. "Brogan is savage with numbers, but when it comes to emotions," he frowned, "he can be fairly feckin' . . . black and white, either, or. It's like with numbers, his brain is nimble and complex, but with emotions, he can be a spanner." A spanner. A person lacking wisdom. He smiled, looking slightly guilty for his wording perhaps. "I don't mean it unkindly, like. He just has a bloody hell of a time seein' shades of gray when it comes to matters of the heart. Eileen says when he was six, he was doin' high school maths, but he'd wallop someone over the head if they mistreated the class pet. He's a man now, but sometimes with emotional subjects, well, he gets there, but it's not always a pretty process."
I smiled softly, nodding. "I do know what you mean. But it's part of what I always loved best about him." I realized the truth in my statement as it came from my lips. "The intensity . . . how fierce he is in his convictions," I murmured. "The degree to which he feels things."
"Aye, Brogan, he . . . doesn't give his heart easily, whether it's as a buddy or more, but when he does, it's yours forever. He doesn't know any other way to be. Do ya hear what I'm sayin'?"
I swallowed, feeling overwhelmed by the statement. Had Brogan given me his heart? Truly? I nodded yes, my eyes moving away, distracted by the questions in my head. We were both quiet for a minute before Fionn spoke again.
"I'm glad to see ya worked through the Courtney issue."
I took another drink of beer. It was definitely growing on me. I took a moment to savor the rich texture and the roasted flavors. "Yeah, he told me about her," I said once I'd swallowed. I pressed my lips together and frowned slightly. "You really dislike her, don't you?"
Fionn reclined back in the booth, seeming to take up the entirety of the side he was sitting on. "Aye. And the feelin' is mutual."
"I can't imagine anyone not liking you, Fionn."
He grinned. "I know, right? Clearly, she's not the full shillin'." He winked. But his expression was serious as he said, "Speakin' of moral dilemmas and Brogan seein' them differently than ya or I might."
I breathed out a small laugh. "Yeah, that intensity is a double-edged sword, isn't it?"
He nodded. "Aye. Like ya said, when he feels somethin', he feels it strongly, more strongly than most I think. Whether that's love or anger or guilt. And it makes him easy to be taken advantage of if the subject of his emotion is a manipulator. Courtney is a manipulatin' cow."
I sighed. "Well, I think he cleared things up with her."
"Jaysus, I hope so. If I never have to hear her whiny voice again it'll be too soon."
I took another sip of beer. "Fionn, can I ask you another question?"
"Anythin'."
"Your business . . . it seems like, well, it seems like you help people for a living."
"Not for a livin', no. There's no livin' to be made in helpin' people."
I tilted my head. "Then . . ."
He shrugged. "Brogan has a number of businesses that make a profit, too. But with or without those, he has more money than he can spend in this lifetime. Helpin' others is what he chooses to do with it. He gives jobs to folks who need them, he helps families find safe, clean housing, and sometimes he helps people with the money to pay this month's heating bill. Sometimes he brings lawsuits against slumlords because no one else can afford to. He helps those who are helpless."
Oh my God. He helps the helpless, and punishes those who prey on the helpless. "Like he was once." I felt a tightening in my chest.
"Aye."
I blinked at Fionn for a moment. The man is a walking miracle. Proof that hope lost can be turned into hope restored. In Brogan's case, not only for himself, but for the others he assists. Could the man be more complex? "Doesn't Brogan realize that he got back at everyone who ever wronged him simply with the way he lives his life?"
"No, he hasn't quite made it there," he said, a worried frown on his face that made a chill go down my spine for some reason I didn't quite understand in that moment.
Brogan came back to the table right then, interrupting my thoughts and causing me to startle slightly. There was an older man standing next to him.
"Lydia, I wanted you to meet a friend, Father Donoghue." Father? A priest?
"Hello, Father," I smiled, "nice to meet you."
"Well, it's a true pleasure," he said in a thick brogue, smiling broadly. He looked to Fionn. "Fionn, me boy, what's the craic?"
"Aye, dead on, yerself, Father?"
"Dead on. I don't usually see ya without a bird on ya arm."
Fionn looked around. "I'm about to remedy that, Father. Care to join me?"
Father Donoghue laughed. "Ah, no, no, only one woman for me. That was me Mary Catherine. God rest her soul." He looked to Brogan. "She was my only. And ack, what an only she was." Brogan smiled conspiratorially at him as I frowned in confusion. Weren't priests supposed to be celibate? Fionn stood up and clapped Father Donoghue on his back.
"I'll see ya later," Fionn said, shooting us a grin.
"Fionn," I called and he turned. "Thank you." He returned my smile, nodding before slipping into the crowd.
"Father, will ya join us?" Brogan asked Father Donoghue.
"Can't tonight, me boy. I have an appointment, but I'll take ya up on that kind offer another time, like."
We said our goodbyes to him, and Brogan slid back into the booth. I scooted close to him, hooking my arm through his.
He leaned in and whispered in my ear, "I want to take you home."
"Another sleepover?" I asked, tilting my head innocently.
"In a manner of speaking," he said darkly.
I felt a buzz begin between my legs, my nipples hardening against the thin material of my shirt. It had been a near torture to sleep in a bed with him the night before and not touch him. But I'd thought we needed a night like that-a night that was about something other than sex.
The ground I was on with Brogan felt anything but solid, my emotions careening between extremes from one moment to the next. And now that I understood what part of his business was really about, I was even more confused. I admired him so much for helping those in similar situations to the one he'd once been in, but I also understood his need to punish those who had made victims of others, and I still felt like I might be in that category. His feelings for me must be so convoluted. Would we ever be able to truly trust one another? Would he ever truly be able to let go of the past we shared? Especially because Stuart would always be in my life. There was no getting past that. Brogan might forgive me-and I was hopeful he did-but I was doubtful he could ever really forgive Stuart. And where did that put me?
Pushing complicated thoughts aside, I looked to the far corner of the bar where a band was setting up.
I nodded over to them. "Are you familiar with that band?"
Brogan nodded. "I've heard them play once or twice. They're an Irish band that only plays locally."
"Can we stay for a little bit and listen to them?"
Brogan looked like he was going to protest for a minute, but I put my hands in the prayer position and smiled sweetly. He rolled his eyes, laughing softly, and relented. We finished our beers as the band played and I ordered another, although Brogan didn't.
The lead singer's voice was smoky and sensual. I was buzzed from the beer and Brogan's closeness and the way his thumb rubbed lazy circles on the top of my hand under the table. Brogan was telling me stories about some of the characters in the bar, and I was laughing and I felt young and happy, sitting next to a gorgeous, complicated man who fascinated me.