Chasing River: A Novel

Duffy holds the door open. And simply stands there.

I stare at him.

“You’re free to go.”

Is this a trick? I admitted to lying to him. I’ve been sitting in this room for hours, waiting for him to march in and tell me what’s going to happen next to me, to River.

When I don’t move right away, he adds, “Unless you prefer these accommodations to your other?”

My chair nearly topples, as quickly as I stand. “What about River?” Does he know that I told Duffy everything? Does he understand why?

Does he hate me now?

A secretive smile curls Duffy’s lips. He finds that amusing somehow. I’m suddenly overcome with the urge to slap him.

“Relax, Amber.” He points down the hallway and I peer past him, along the narrow corridor, to where River leans against the wall, his head tipped back as if resting. No handcuffs, no garda hovering.

What does that mean?

Duffy must see the confusion in my face. “I finally found something important enough to bend that stubborn Irish will of his.”

Something important enough . . .

Me?

He chuckles softly. “Go on, now.”

I don’t wait another second. I tear down the hall and into River’s waiting arms.

“We can still stay at your house tonight, if you’d rather be close to your parents.” I flick the hallway light on. It feels like I haven’t stepped inside here in weeks, even though I left for Cork just yesterday.

River drops the duffel bag of clothes he packed on the floor—he refused to let me carry it in—and struggles to kick his shoes off, his limp worse than it was earlier today. “Who knows what time they’ll be back from the hospital. Besides, Ma would take issue with where you sleep.”

“I don’t mind sleeping on my own.”

“I do.” His chuckle is so weak. “I need my nurse in bed with me.”

I smile, giving his back a rub. I haven’t stopped touching him in some way since we left the garda station. “I’ll be upstairs in just a minute.”

He eases up the steps with great care. I still don’t know what happened with Duffy. I asked but he shrugged it off, saying, “Later.” I don’t know what that means and, while I know he needs his rest, I need assurances that this is all going to work out for River. The only thing I do know is that he doesn’t seem angry with me at all.

Opening his bottle of prescription painkillers, I fill a glass of water, throw together a few ham and cheese sandwiches—neither of us have eaten all day—and make my way upstairs to my bedroom.

River’s already undressed and stretched out in bed. Gauze covers the phoenix over his chest. I didn’t know he had an injury there as well. “Thank Christ. I’m starved,” he mumbles, reaching for a sandwich.

“Does it still hurt?” I pull back the sheet to find more gauze bandaging wrapped around his left thigh.

He grunts in response, his mouth full.

I slide my hand over the curves of his healthy leg in a soothing manner. Such strong, thick muscles.

Rowen’s leg was just as sturdy.

“What’s going to happen now? With Aengus?” I watch him chew slowly, and I’m not sure if it’s a deliberate tactic to stall.

“He confessed,” he finally admits through a mouthful, his eyes downcast.

My jaw drops. “What? How? I mean . . .” I hadn’t expected that answer. “What made him do it?”

Swallowing, he tosses the last bit of crust onto the plate and washes it down with water, chasing it with the pills I set out for him. “He didn’t have much choice. Either he confessed to Duffy or I’d testify against him in court as an eyewitness.”

“You said that you’d never do that.”

“I know.” He toys with the compass charm that dangles from my bracelet. “I never thought I would. But after what he’s put my ma and da, and Rowen, through . . .” His fingers lace through mine. “Protecting him was going to further harm my family. Harm you. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened and I could have done something to stop it. As it is, none of this would have happened if I’d spoken up sooner.” His Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow, and a sheen suddenly coats his eyes. “I’m already not sure how I’m going to forgive myself for that.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.” I curl into his side, careful to avoid his injuries. “So Aengus would rather confess than have you put him in prison?”

“The IRA doesn’t take too kindly to people testifying against them. Despite all the bad decisions that Aengus has made, he has always protected me when it’s counted. I was counting on him to do it again.”

There is a shred of good in that guy after all, I guess. “So, he’s going to prison.”

River nods.

“And you’re safe?”

“I’m safe.” He lifts my chin up until I can see his eyes. “And you’re safe. No one’s going to stop you from staying in Ireland for as long as you want to stay.” Unspoken words linger between us.

How long does River want me to stay?

How long do I want to stay? Never in a million years would I ever have thought I’d actually be even considering questions like this. I’ve known River for a week. A week!

The single most memorable week of my entire life.

“Well, immigration might have a problem with me staying for too long,” I joke, because I don’t know what else to say.

So would my parents.

But what do I want?