Page 7 of Irish Betrayal

Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving Ireland?

Why does it feel like you aren’t mine anymore?

But his brain…his damn brain yelled louder.

Don’t make yourself vulnerable until you know her motives.

Don’t assume your feelings are hers.

Don’t stop her from fulfilling her life’s passion.

Fuck his brain. When he mouthed “Later,” to Blair, he bloody well meant it. She would explain leaving the country, and especially not telling him, the moment he could get her alone.

It was early evening by the time he and his friends mowed through the pounds of food they’d gotten from Murphy’s Pub.

Goodbyes were said, and hugs and backslaps were given. Mags was living in his and Jonathan’s townhouse, the mirror of the girls’ next door. Now that everyone had moved out and Jonathan had let Daniel know that he wished to combine the two townhouses into one for him and Mags, Daniel had begun looking for a place of his own.

He had wondered what Blair’s plans were as the last of the girls to move out, but clearly, she’d planned on moving to another continent.

Jonathan and Mags retired to his bedroom a half hour ago, as she was still recovering from the psycho setting a bomb off in her art studio. They were all fortunate that she hadn’t suffered more severe injuries.

Left alone, there was no need to sneak next door to meet Blair. He exited through the back and walked confidently to the connecting garden, where Blair would already be wrist-deep in damp soil.

Daniel knew something was wrong the second he stepped into the garden.

It wasn’t the space—everything looked the same. The narrow stretch of green behind the townhouse, the orderly chaos of pots and climbing vines, the faint scent of damp earth clinging to the evening air.

Blair stood with her back to him, fingers brushing absently over a leaf, but there was no focus in the movement. No curiosity. No spark. Just…repetition.

His chest tightened. “Blair.”

She didn’t turn.

Of course, she didn’t.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face before stepping closer, his shoes quiet against the stone. He stopped just behind her, close enough now that she’d feel him.

She stilled, but not in fright. Blair had always told him that her deafness made her other senses more powerful, and she always could feel when he was close.

Slowly, she turned. And there it was, a smile, but not the one she always used to give him. It was careful, guarded. Something practiced.

It set his teeth on edge.

“You’re here,” she signed.

Daniel’s jaw flexed. He answered automatically, the motions familiar, ingrained after all this time. “You didn’t tell me.”

Her hands hesitated, just for a fraction of a second. Most people wouldn’t have noticed. He did.

“Tell you what?”

He stared at her, disbelief flickering into irritation. “Oklahoma.” His movements sharpened. “You’re leaving. You didn’t think I deserved to know? And not like that,” he motioned behind him toward his townhouse. “Not with everyone else.”

Something flickered in her eyes, guilt, but something else too, and for the life of him, Daniel couldn’t figure out what she was hiding.

She looked away.

And that—more than anything—lit something in his chest. By turning her head, she was shutting him out.