Lucky Irish

Chapter 5

~Mya~

I kept quiet as I walked the short distance from Danny's room to Cal's, all the while being overly aware of Cal following right behind me. I wasn't sure I was ready for what was about to happen, the talk I knew we needed to have. 

It would be pointless of me to deny that I'd had feelings beyond friendship where Cal was concerned for a long time, but just because the feelings were there, I wasn't sure it was such a good idea to act on them, for either of us. All I could think about was Hannah and how she would feel about this, and while she'd made me promise to look after her boys, I was pretty sure this wasn't what she ment. 

Cal had been the love of her life, she'd told me that two months after she met him, and from the way he was with her, she'd been the love of his too. I hated the fact that I was jealous and slightly resentful of my dead best friend, but the fact was that if I let myself get tangled up in Cal in a romantic way, I would always have to live with the knowledge that I would forever be second best. 

If things had been different and Hannah had been alive, there would never have been even a possibility of me and Callum. And as her best friend, how could I live with myself if I got involved with her widowed husband? 

I loved Cal and Danny, but I'd been happy loving them from afar for a long long time, so this really didn't seem like a good idea at all. 

Before I knew it I was standing at the edge of Cal's large bed, my arms crossed over my chest, biting my lip as I watched him close the bedroom door before he turned to face me. God, he was handsome. 

I'd always thought that, even when I only thought of him as Hannah's husband, my friend. I remember the first time Hannah introduced us and for a second I felt a tinge of pure jealousy shoot through my veins. He was this tall handsome charming guy with the most breathtaking smile and a deep infectious laugh. And the more I got to know him, the more I liked him. Hannah was always vague when she talked about what he did for a living, and eventually I learned not to ask, but I wasn't stupid and I wasn't blind. When I really started to put the pieces together and learned who he really was and the kind of things he was involved in, it took a lot for me to really wrap my head around it. He was such a nice guy, kind and gentle, something I'd never expect from a man rumored to be the leader of the Irish mob. Then again, everyone has more than one side to them, and once or twice I'd witnessed his less than kind side, but it had never been directed at me. 

There was a period, right after Hannah died, that I didn't even recognize him. He grew cold, detached, and the only person he showed any real affection was Danny. I didn't blame him though, he was grieving the loss of the woman he loved, but it hurt because at times he'd look at me and all I could see in his eyes were hate. I don't know how, but deep down I knew that hate stemmed from an unvoiced wish that it was me who'd died instead. I didn't blame him that either, mostly because I felt the exact same way. 

The first couple of months after Hannahs death had been really hard on everyone involved, and when he wasn't being outright cold with me, he was doing everything he could to push me away, to keep me out of his and Danny's life. But that, that was the one thing I couldn't give him. I'd made my best friend a promise that I would look after her boys when she couldn't do it herself anymore, and no matter how hard it would be, I wasn't going to break that promise. So I pushed through it, I pushed my way into their lives in a way I made it clear I was there to stay, and eventually things changed. 

He stopped looking at me with hate in his eyes, and he grew less cold, slowly morphing back to the man he'd always been, but Hannah's death changed him and it wasn't all bad, but it was clear it was a permanent change. 

And now... he was standing five feet away, studying me closely. We were in his bedroom after he'd pretty much declared he intended to have me in his bed (and keep me there), if I hadn't completely misunderstood his intentions, which I was quite sure I hadn't.