Chapter 8: Age is Only a Number

Happy had a quicker step than Éire and so was standing looking out over the lot by the time she got onto the roof. When she eventually got up, she walked towards Happy, his back facing her with his arms folded;
'So you're pissed,' concluded Éire, to which she got no answer.
After a brief few moments she got bored;
'Okay if you ain't gonna talk then I ain't gonna stay up here freezing my ass – '
'Why didn't you call?' interrupted Happy, still with his back turned to her.

She hesitated to answer him, trying to muster up an excuse as to why she didn't call. She couldn't and so Happy started again;
'You called once, in the last year and a half. Once Éire.'
Éire didn't know how to respond and after a few seconds, Happy scoffed;
'Not that you'd remember the call you were so out of your god-damn fucking mind. But in the time you were gone. Once. You left –'
Feeling defensive, Éire stood up for herself;
'I didn't leave, I was forced to go.'
To this, Happy whipped his body around to stand and face her;
'Forced because of the mess you got yourself into. And you left and didn't look back. Leaving all of us to clean up after you.'
Éire failed to reply and Happy turned back around with his arms folded once again. After a minute, Éire quietly said;
'You told me you didn't blame me.'
'I don't blame you,' replied Happy shaking his head.
Éire remained silent.
Happy turned his head slightly so that Éire could partly see one side of his face;
'I don't blame just you.'

Éire noticed the distaste in Happy's voice. She had been fighting with herself all day over the same issue, blaming herself. She didn't need this right now from Happy. Éire started walking towards the ladder of the roof but unfortunately for her, her defensive Morrow genetics fuelled by the whiskey stopped her and she stormed back towards Happy;
'You know what Happy, fuck you! I was seventeen when -'
Before she could finish, Happy whipped his body around to face her again and began walking towards her;
'Bullshit Éire! When did you ever give a fuck about your age?'
This loaded comment hurt. Éire diverted her eyes away from him and fumbled with her hands. By the time she looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes;
'I'm sorry Happy. I'm so sorry,' Éire whimpered.
Happy's demeanour softened, for in that moment, she was vulnerable. And although he had seen her in a lot worse states than she was in now, Éire Morrow didn't do vulnerability. The mere thought of the few other times he had seen her upset before were enough to get him to soften up.

He turned his back to her again;
'Did that Irish air sort that god-damn wreckless head of yours?'
'Yes,' replied Éire.
Happy turned around and glared at her, not convinced.
'Yes Happy, it did!'
Happy came towards her;
'Good. I ain't fucking cut out for that babysitting shit like I used to be.'
Happy wrapped one arm around her waist, smiling down at her and the two of them walked towards the edge of the roof, going back inside to enjoy the party.

Éire decided to stay on a while longer when her parents went home. In the car, Gemma noticed Clay was quiet. They hadn't got a minute to talk about or even process the fact that Éire was home. Gemma was thrilled to have Éire home. She was her stepdaughter after all. However, Jax was her son and she was worried that things were about to return to the way they were during the 'bad days.' Looking over at Clay who was looking out the windscreen, she concluded;
'Éire seems good.'
Clay looked at Gemma and smiled, giving a simple 'yeah' in reply;
'Are you happy she's home?'
'Of course.'
Clay wasn't giving much away, so Gemma being Gemma decided to poke the bear;
'Clay... I'd hate to see the club, to see you and Jax, like it was before.'
Clay nodded his head in agreement before looking over at Gemma, replying sincerely;
'It won't be like before.'
Turning his head to look out the windscreen once again, she heard him snarl;
'As long as he keeps his god-damn fucking hands to himself.'
'And what the hell does that mean?' Gemma snuffed.
'You know god-damn well what it means Gemma,' Clay replied through gritted teeth, turning his head to face her again.

Gemma, deciding not to provoke an argument with her clearly wound-up husband, stayed silent. She knew Clay was overwhelmed. It had taken their relationship, Jax and Clay's relationship and the club a long time to recover and heal. And Gemma was hoping and praying that old wounds would remain closed. But judging by Clay's mood, was this wishful thinking? Seeing Éire mingling with people in the Clubhouse was bittersweet for Clay because although it was great to have Éire back home with her family, the fact hadn't been lost on him that it wouldn't be long before his beloved stepson would be back and in the same room as her again. Hence, the bad mood. They didn't speak the rest of the way home. Meanwhile, Gemma's mind began to wander as to where that blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy of hers was and when he would be returning to Charming.