Read Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9 for Free Online

traced over his arms, his shoulders, his face, as if assuring herself he was really there. “I’m so sorry about your father.”
    He squeezed her to him again. As awful as the situation was that had brought him here, he was overjoyed to hold her. A throat cleared, and then another, reminding him that they were not alone.
    “Come,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers and tugging her out the back door and into the yard, away from prying eyes. When he got behind the row of stately pines, he backed her against the old oak and kissed her the way he’d been dreaming of doing since the moment he’d left.
    She returned the kiss with equal fervor, thank God.
    “Are you all right?” he said finally, exhaling heavily as he rested his forehead against hers. “Did you and your family make it through the flood okay?”
    “Not entirely,” she admitted, “but not as bad as some. The water level came up to about a foot on the ground floor, but the second floor is still livable. The diner wasn’t affected; Dad’s been working around the clock, providing meals to those displaced. She reached up and traced the pale scars that extended beyond his hairline. She knew that he’d been injured, knew about Fitz, because he’d written her. He had spared her the details, though. “God, Jack, I missed you. Are you okay?”
    He captured her hand and kissed her fingers. “I am now.”
    ––––––––
    T he funeral service was nothing more or less than he had expected. Somber men walked past his father’s casket, offering condolences and handshakes. The women sniffled and gave teary-eyed hugs. Through it all, Jack stood tall beside his mother. It hadn’t quite hit him yet, but it would, later.
    Death didn’t have the impact it once did; he’d seen too much of it, seen too many good men die for the sake of helping others. His father hadn’t given his life on a battlefield or in a war zone, but he had died a hero nonetheless.
    Jack met the family his father had been helping when it happened. They attended the funeral Mass and prayed with the scores of others whose lives Liam had touched in one positive way or another. Jack remained silent and stoic through all of it. He’d always known his father was a damn good man. It was nice that others had recognized that, too, but it changed nothing. Liam was still dead, and Jack had only a few days before he would have to leave his devastated mother and his croie again to return to fulfill the commitment he’d made.
    For now, the most important thing was making the most of the time he had. He would grieve later, alone, when he wasn’t surrounded by those he loved. His mother needed him to be strong, and Kathleen, well, Kathleen just needed him.
    Her letters, the ones that made it to him, were filled with positive thoughts and tender, heartfelt secrets, but he’d been able to read between the lines. Amongst the tales of ordinary, day-to-day events -—events that he had never truly appreciated before he’d gone away -—was fear. Fear for him. Of what was happening, what he had to face on a daily basis. She needed him to reassure her that, God willing, he would be coming home soon to make good on all of those promises he’d made. And that she was never, ever alone.
    “I want you to stay with my mother,” Jack told Kathleen later that night, after the casket had been lowered into the consecrated ground, after the last haunting notes of the bagpipes faded away. They sat beneath the stars in the glider swing, while friends and neighbors gathered inside, drinking whiskey and telling inappropriate stories. The traditional Irish wake may have been altered a bit over the years, but it was still something celebrated in their predominantly Irish community, a way to honor the dead by tempering grief with fond memories.
    Snuggled upon his lap, Kathleen cast those emerald eyes upward. He recommitted every silvery-gray fleck, every thick, dark lash to memory.
    “She’s all alone now,