Chapter Two: Brendan

You'd expected to die on the inside. You had accepted it long ago, the same way you'd accepted that your future with Steven was never going to happen.

So when you'd been told, after serving nearly thirty-seven years in prison, that you were going to be released; well, it had scared you. You weren't sure you could function in the real world anymore. It was too late to salvage what was left of your life, and you knew it.

By the time the day arrived, and those doors opened to let you out, you had got your head around the fact that when you finally took your last breath, it would be as a free man.

As for everything else, everyone else; you hadn't even begun to comprehend it.

"What are ye doing with yourself, Brendan?"

Cheryl's tone is full of concern, and in truth you're thankful to have her, because it's not as if there was ever going to be anyone else waiting for you on the other side of the prison doors.

If only she would stop asking you questions; endless questions that you just don't know how to answer, even if you wanted to.

"Hmm?" You do what you've done repeatedly for the last few days, every time she's come to see you at the hotel. You pretend you're not paying attention.

She sighs in that impatient way of hers, and now you look at her and see that as she's aged, the guilt she feels over you has grown with her. It's there in her eyes as she speaks, even as she's exasperated with you. "I'm asking ye what ye are doing with your life," she states bluntly.

Existing, is what you want to say back, because that's all this is: an existence. You're sitting in a posh hotel room in Ireland until you find somewhere suitable and permanent to live, paid for with the money from the sale of the club you'd owned in Chester when you were still relatively young. Money that until a few days ago, had been kept safe for you by Cheryl. You're living comfortably until you 'find your feet' as she had called it. You've got all the material possessions you need – but inside you're empty.

You want to say all this to her. You want to tell your sister how much you long to make things right with your sons, even though it's been nearly forty years since either of them laid eyes on you and any connection you once had was severed long before that.

You want to tell her how desperate you are to do the same thing with Steven, even though that's more of a lost cause than Declan and Padraig.

But you can't bear to make her feel worse, so you don't say any of it.

"I'm doing fine, Chez. Tomorrow I'm going skydiving, and then I might even treat myself to a new tattoo." You grin at her, but you know the smile won't reach your eyes.

"Always a sarcastic sod, even now you're an old man," she shakes her head, then reaches out to touch your arm. "Bren, you're alive. And you're free. Ye need to start living. Listen, Nate and I are going back to Chester next weekend. Why don't ye come with us?"

You give her a sharp look. How on earth she can think that returning to that village could be a good idea is beyond you.

"Why don't I come?" you repeat, incredulous. "Let's make a list of reasons, shall we? I don't even get why you'd want to go back there, let alone me."

Cheryl is quiet for a while, and then when she finally speaks again her voice wavers. "It's Ste's birthday. His family are throwing him a party."

She winces when she reaches the end of her sentence, and it takes you a further minute to realise what it is she's said, besides Steven's name, that she's feeling awkward about.

His family. The one that doesn't include you. It almost had, once upon a time when you were so close to building something rock solid.

The thing is, while you'd once promised Steven a 'proper family', deep down you know that any real chance you had of doing that was lost the moment you'd lashed out at him in that last week before your arrest.

You haven't considered yourself a part of the man's family for more than half of your own lifetime.

You want to see him; of course you do. You're not going to go, though. You knew there'd be no going back when you made your decision as a young man, and you're too old to start anything now. You love him too much to disrupt his life again.

So when you say goodbye to Cheryl without saying another word on the subject, you hope she doesn't bring it up again - for your own sanity if nothing else.

After some thought, you spend the following week psyching yourself up to write letters to your sons, which you eventually manage to do. You give them to your sister, who promises to pass them on for you. The day before heading back to your old home-town, she comes to see you again, insisting that you stay at the house she shares with Nate to 'house-sit' for the weekend. It's clear that she won't let it rest until you agree, so with a sigh you pack two days' worth of clothes and go back there with her.

On the day of your release she had been desperate to have you to stay; had wanted to look after you the way you'd always looked after her, she said. But you'd wanted your own space – had craved it after all those years of sharing a cell.

"Bren?" Cheryl asks before you say goodnight. "Those letters ye wrote for Deccy and Paddy...are ye sure ye don't want to write one for Ste too? I mean, I'm seeing him tomorrow and-"

"No," you cut her off before she can finish the thought, because you can't handle what it might be like to imagine it. "I let him go a long time ago. I have no right to push my way back into his life after all this time. Just leave it be, Chez."

She gives you a sad smile but doesn't push the matter further, and you send her and her husband off the next morning with a hollow feeling deep in your chest.

You spend the entire weekend thinking of him. You feel ridiculous; a seventy year old man longing for another so desperately. When you were locked up it was easier to bear, because you couldn't have him, no matter how much you wanted him.

But now that you're free and he's out there, the pain of living without him is fresher than ever. It plays with your mind, tries to convince you that you could be with him again even when you know you can't.

On the day that Cheryl and Nate are due back from Chester you spend the whole morning cleaning and tidying up after yourself, partly to stop yourself from thinking. You don't stop until you get a text saying they're ten minutes away from home.

When you hear Nate's car reversing up the driveway you go and open the door for them, bracing yourself for the inevitable tales of party antics and gossip from the village, and maybe even news about him.

You're sat on the sofa when the front door clicks shut, and you're more than a bit surprised when you're greeted by silence rather than your little sister's loud, over-excited voice.

Then you look over and you understand why.

Standing there in front of them is the man you haven't set eyes on in almost four decades.

Steven is here.

His hair is a beautiful silver, and face has lines to mark his age, but he's still the man you love.

You can't move. You're terrified, and you don't know whether it's because he's here or because actually, you might be dreaming.

"Brendan."

You draw in a sharp breath at the sound of his voice, and then you know it's real.