Page 152 of Buckin' Around

“Come on, you eejit bunny, we have places to be.”

I chuckle at myself all the way down the hallway. I toss him into the carry-on full of Ivy’s things and zip up our luggage.

Here we come, Riles.

All we have to do now is find a little town called Clady, make our way to the vet clinic, and tell the only girl in the world that I ever loved exactly that.

“Wish us luck, Fluffy.”

Nowhere on the ride to this tiny damn town was it mentioned that there are, in fact,twotowns called Clady in Northern Ireland. After an international flight and a few too many tantrums—some even Ivy’s—I’m wiped.

I book a room at the inn of the town Clady that no O’Malleys live in or near, on the street that does not in fact have a vet clinic, and try to get my bearings.

It’s cold, miserable, and rainy outside. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

Maybe I’m a true eejit for dragging Ives halfway across the world to find her mama.

Can’t wait to see Riles’s face when she hears?—

Ivy trips on the ratty rug by the bed in the world’s tiniest room and starts crying. I toss my phone to the bed and pick her up.

“I promise it will be worth it, baby girl. Tomorrow, we’ll see her.”

I bounce her on my knee until she calms down.

An hour later, she’s showered and in her pajamas, giving Mr. Fluffy the tightest huggle on one side of the bed, me the other.

I stroke her hair and sing her the lines of “Love Somebody” that I can remember in a low, slow tone. Her eyes drift closed, and I release a ragged sigh. I hope I haven’t made a stupid decision. That I don’t get to the end of some tiny country road, only to be told to go home. That Riles has moved on from us...

I’ve never been great at relationships with any depth. Loving doesn’t come natural when you’re raised in a house full of criticism and expectation.

But this feels different.

I damn well hope it’s different.

I turn the key and fire up the engine of our tiny rental car, Ives chattering away in the back to Mr. Fluffy having only just woken up from her afternoon nap. Lucky the guy has long ears, because she sure spends a lot of time chewing his ear. Literally and figuratively.

I needed a few hours to plan our route, double-check we weren’t on a wild goose chase this time. I have Ives to think about, and I have no desire to relive yesterday’s confusion and frustration. I pull the map app up on my phone and haul in a deep, lung-stretching breath before rolling out of the inn’s parking lot and onto the road for the right Clady.

I hope.

Down some of the narrowest, windiest roads, we bump along to Ivy’s favorite songs, with a few of mine snuck into her playlist. The rain hasn’t let up, so we take it slow.

The outskirts of Clady come into view as the sun starts to set.

And she’s beautiful.

Rolling hills frame either side of the township. Quaint farms with hedged fences and roaming sheep and cattle. White homes line the streets before I make it to the center of town, where the buildings are similar but taller and more commercial.

Smack-bang in the center I find Smugglers Inn. Thank god, I could use a beer. Or is it a pint over here?

I pull into a parking spot, only to turn back and find Ives sound asleep.

Of course.

I guess international travel takes a toll. I kill the engine and decide to take my chances. I swaddle Ives into my arms, securing her coat around her before I step onto the wet sidewalk and into the pub.

Inside, warmth hits me instantly.