“That’s easier said than done, Danny. I’m fucking terrified of letting her down again,” I admitted.

“Son, fear lives in the dark. Drag it into the light and you’ll see there was never anything to be afraid of in the first place. You tell Em how you’re feeling?” he asked, frowning.

“No. She doesn’t need to know all the shit going through my head. It’s my job to take care of her. She needs to know that I’ve got this handled,” I said.

“Bollocks. She ain’t some wallflower than needs wrapping up in cotton wool. That girl had the brass balls to stand up and walk away from that fecker long before she had you behind her. I’m telling you straight that you keep bottling shit up like you have been and not talking to her about it and you’ll end up losing her. Holding on to this anger is gonna eat you alive. So I think it’s time we brought someone in to fix your noggin and while we’re at it, you need a manager.

“I don’t need a manager, Danny. I’ve got you, and I sure as shit don’t need some fucking pansy-arsed head doctor,” I shouted at him.

Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, he turned toward me, his face a picture of anger. “Don’t you fuckin’ bark at me,” he yelled. “If I tell you we need something then we fecking need it.”

“Why can’t you manage me?” I asked, unhappy with all of this.

“What the fuck do I know about managing? It’s a full-time job, and I’m out of my depth. I’m a trainer not a manager. We’re going into the big leagues now, and we need someone who knows what they’re doing,” he said.

“I can’t afford to pay someone,” I admitted. There were lots of things that I needed before I could afford to hire someone full-time.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he reassured me. “I need someone to organize fights for some of the kids. I’ve got some good prospects round here so don’t be thinking you’re anything special,” he warned me, which made me smile grudgingly. “Pretty soon you’ll be able to afford your own guy, but for now you can borrow mine. I’ll keep him on staff until you can afford to take him on.”

“Fine,” I huffed, “but no fucking shrink.”

Danny sighed deeply. “There ain’t no shame in it, boy” he reassured me. “You want Em to get counseling for what she went through, right? You gonna think less of her for doing it?”

“Of course I won’t,” I said, pissed that he would even suggest it. “But it ain’t the same. You know it ain’t. Real men don’t see fuckin’ shrinks.”

“What a load of shite.” He laughed. “Real men ask for help when they need it, and we’re both in uncharted territory here, kid.”

I didn’t agree with him but I didn’t argue either. It still sounded like the worst idea he’d ever had, but I couldn’t lose him as my trainer, and if this was his price, then so be it.

“Sorry I yelled at you,” I mumbled, hating that I needed to apologize.

“So you fucking should be,” he admonished, never letting me off lightly. “I may be a few years older than you, but I can still kick your scrawny Irish arse, so don’t you forget it!”

I compared his frail frame next to my six-foot-five-inch body and smiled. “Whatever you say, Danny.”

Chapter 3

As planned I met the boys later at Daisy’s, Em was busy wiping down a table when I crept up behind her and tickled her. Shrieking, she jumped then turned around and smacked me with a wet dishcloth.

“O’Connell, you scared the life out of me.”

“Sorry, baby, I couldn’t help myself.” Wrapping my arms around her tiny waist, I hauled her in for a kiss. The way that some guys kiss their long-term girlfriends or wives is an absolute travesty. A kiss should never be routine, like saying hello or good-bye. Kissing the person you love should be sign language for the soul. It should say I love you, I need you, and I’m happy to see you or sorry to see you go. If you can’t kiss like that, you should really keep your fucking lips to yourself. When I was done, Em rested her forehead against mine and closed her eyes, like she was already missing the press of my lips against hers.

“Baby, I’m supposed to be working. You’re going to get me in trouble,” she complained, but made no move to separate us.

“You don’t mind me stealing a kiss from my girl, do you, Rhona?” I asked another waitress as she passed me carrying a huge tray.

“As long as I get a turn when she’s done,” she joked.

“Here, let me get that,” I told her. Letting go of Em, I grabbed the tray, which was much too big for Rhona, and strode into the kitchen. I frowned as it occurred to me that Em must carry trays like these. They were much too heavy for her too.

“You don’t have to do that, Con, but thank you,” she told me. Pressing her hands against the small of her back, I could tell that the early evening dinner rush was taking its toll.

“No problem,” I told her. “I’m happy to help. Hey, Mike,” I said, nodding to him as he flipped burgers in the corner. He smiled as I salivated over the food laid out on his grill. I’d been dreaming about having a Daisy burger for weeks. Walking back out to put my order in with the boys, I saw Em loading up another full tray as she hurried to empty a table. Kieran had already snagged one for us, and he looked like the wait for me to come over so he could place his order was causing him real pain.

“Aren’t you a bit short tonight?” I asked Rhona, watching her scurrying to help Em.

“You can say that again. Katrina and another waitress didn’t turn up for their shifts. It’s just us for tonight.”

Nodding at the guys, I made my way over to our table.

“What’s up, Con?” Liam asked.

“Can we order already?” Kieran whined, and Tommy added a “pleeease” in the style of an annoying six-year-old.

“Sorry, boys, you’re going to have to wait a bit. They’re slammed so I think we should give them a hand.”

“Seriously!” Kieran complained. “I’m fucking wasting away here.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Liam answered. “You’re seriously going to sit there and chow down while Em’s rushed off her feet?”