Page 77 of Try Line Hearts
“I won’t,” Lucas said immediately. “She doesn’t even know—”
“She doesn’t,” Maeve agreed. “Which means this is on you.”
The call settled into quiet.
“I love you,” Maeve said. “You’re a good man. But Christ alive, you’re being a moron.”
Lucas let out a weak breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Fair.”
“Text me tomorrow,” Maeve said. “And Luke?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t make me regret liking him.”
The line went dead.
Lucas sat there for a long time afterward, phone dark in his hand.
He didn’t text Eli again.
He didn’t chase reassurance.
For the first time all night, he let the discomfort sit—heavy, deserved, instructive.
And when he finally stood and went to bed, he knew one thing with brutal clarity:
Declan could manage narratives all he liked. That’s what he fucking paid him for.
But if Lucas wanted Eli, he was going to have to start choosing people over plans—even when it scared him. He was about to head toward his bed when one final text from Maeve lit up his phone:
Maeve:Whatever this was for you, don’t make him think he was the only one who felt it.
Chapter Thirteen: Fault Lines
The beach cleanup was supposed to be simple.
That was the lie they told themselves every time something got wrapped in the language ofcommunity engagement. In, out, photos taken, hands shaken, nobody saying anything that could be taken the wrong way.
Lucas had signed off on it because it ticked every box that usually mattered: charity, environment, low glamour, no late nights. He’d imagined cold air, work-gloves, anonymity in motion.
What he had not imagined was Declan practically vibrating with glee at the front of the bus.
“This,” Declan said, gripping the headrest like he was delivering prophecy, “is inspired.”
Lucas stared out the window at the strip of grey coastline sliding past. “We’re picking up rubbish.”
“Yes,” Declan said. “Together. As a team. As Ireland. And”—his smile sharpened—“with guests.”
Lucas closed his eyes. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” Declan said cheerfully. “Evelyn Cross’s agent agreed this morning. Casual appearance. Jeans, T-shirt, volunteer vest. Earthy. Authentic. You won’t even have to speak to her much.”
Lucas laughed once, hollow. “That’s not reassuring.”
Declan leaned closer. “Relax. This is good optics without intimacy. No dinner. No wine. Daylight does half the work for us.”
For us.
