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A.J. inhaled, and then went on.

€30,000, sweetheart. Not bad for someone who never finished secondary school, eh?

Your mam has the details, but the money is yours as long as you’re where you should be in life. I know you will be.

Don’t let that wild head get in the way of that good heart. Put the money towards a grand old life for yourself and whoever you choose t—

A.J. rubbed his eyes. Fuck. Why was he crying?

—to share it with.

Well, it’s getting on time for me to head over to yours for Sunday dinner. I’m not quite dead yet. I’ll be watching you, son. Be good.

Love you mo chroí,

Nan

P.S. Tell Niamh I said hi, and that the bakery would do better if she’d stop overproofing her jam buns.

A.J. folded the pages back up, giving Bren some privacy. If his own eyes were watering this much, he could only imagine what Bren’s were like.

“Fuckin’ Nan.”

His words came with a laugh, and A.J. looked up to see him shaking his head.

He stared at the sky now, like he was expecting her to pop out from behind the early morning clouds and wave—or flip him off. Irish affection was weird.

A.J. stood up and moved towards him with his arms reaching out. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Arlo,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Better than fine. Didn’t you hear? I’m kinda loaded, like.”

From everything A.J. knew about the world, thirty thousand euros wouldn’t last long. He stood beside Bren and was surprised when he pulled him in by the waist. A.J. wrapped his arms around him and leaned his head against Bren’s shoulder.

Their fingers brushed as A.J. handed over the letter, and Bren read over it, his left hand never leaving A.J.’s side.

When he got to the end of the letter, his lips moving, his forehead creased in thought.

“Whoever you end up with.” He looked at the lake, and then at A.J. “Do you think she knew?”

A.J. took a breath. Bren wasn’t looking for fake assurances.

“I don’t know. But I can tell she loved you.” He kissed his fingers and pressed them against Bren’s cheek. “It’s pretty hard not to. Trust me.”

Bren leaned into the touch, and laughed. “I know. Look at me.”

So, they’d moved on from the sappy stuff already.

“What do you wanna do now we’re up?” A.J. said. The deserted beach looked like prime territory for a good walk.

Bren yawned as he tucked the letter into his back pocket like it wasn’t an irreplaceable token from his deceased grandmother.

“Let’s go back to bed, like. It’s way too fuckin’ early to do anything.”

People really needed to study him for how quickly he could swap from one emotion to the other—even if tired and hungry were the only two he knew.

A.J. yawned. “Yes, please.”

Bren’s hand swung down and slapped A.J.’s ass so hard the sound rang across the empty beach.