“He does love you.” I looked up from my books and felt a strange Déjà vu to when my life was simpler and Brian Sheenan leaned against that door frame and asked me for a favor. Everything had changed after that moment. But this time it was Thomas Sheenan moving in to sit down at the opposite side of my desk. “In case he’s been to chicken shit to actually say it to you, I have it on good authority that he does love you.”
“He did tell me,” I answered easily, “But thank you for the thought, Thomas.”
“You’re welcome. And good. I was always worried that he would be too dedicated to The Cause to remember to let other people in on his own thoughts and feelings” Thomas reached out to put his hand on one of the books stacked on the desk, “Oh, do you mind if I help? I could use something keep my mind busy for a little while.”
“You hate it when he goes out there too, don’t you?” I answered, gesturing for him to take the book.
“Oh, more than anyone—except maybe you and Ciara—could possibly imagine.” Thomas smiled, flipping the book open with one hand. “I have this sinking feeling that Brian is going to be the death of us all.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“But hey,” Thomas picked up a pencil and spun it between his fingers, “He’s just my brother. You’re the one in love with the poor bastard. How’s that going for you?” I made a frustrated noise in the back of my throat, and Thomas laughed. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Well, Irma, welcome to the club. We have t-shirts, and semi-monthly panic induced heart attacks.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you at the next meeting, gathered around his hospital bed.” I sighed, underlining something with more force than was strictly necessary.
“Yeah,” Thomas added quietly, turning to his own book.