They were late for lunch. Riding through the woods had been a good idea until Ben became a little too adventurous and took a lesser-known track, and they eventually lost their way. They had dismounted their horses, argued for a minute about who was supposed to know the place better, and then begun riding again, until they were back on familiar track.

When they returned to Ben’s house and crashed on the sofa, it was well past two in the afternoon and Elsa barked at them for being late again. Emily was kinder, though. She asked them to wash up and come for lunch, and they obeyed, famished as they were.

“Where’s Izzi?” Ben asked as they sat in front of TV after the meal.

“She left for Carlton Café a little before you came home,” Emily answered. “She said something about watching dusk fall over the hills.”

“Ah, romantic.” He nudged Brandon. “Why don’t you join her?”

“She usually wants to be alone when she’s there,” he said, although the thought of being with Isabel always made his heart flutter. “Do you want me to walk her home, Mrs B?”

“Ben could do that,” Emily said from the kitchen. Her son made a little sound of disapproval.

“I’m going to watch the Great British Bake Off,” he announced, waving at his friend. “Brandy can bring her home. And while you’re there, pick up some of your dad’s nachos for me, will ya? There should be a tenner in that change drawer.”

“I don’t need it.” With a roll of his eyes, Brandon turned to leave, grabbing his jacket from the back of the door.

Isabel seemed to fancy Carlton Café as much for the Folans’ affection towards her as for the unhindered view of the rolling hills in the distance. Brandon had no trouble locating her inside the establishment. She had a favourite seat there, at the end of the very last row.

“Hey.” He slowly approached her, wondering if she was still upset about the other day. Isabel looked up from the folded newspaper in which she was marking things. The glove of her right hand was next to the mug of hot chocolate, and her bag was beside her on the seat. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

When she shook her head, Brandon occupied the other side of the booth. Her quiet grace and polished, put-together mannerisms often seemed out of place in that small town. She was in a long tunic, a scarf around her neck, and her hair tied in a messy ponytail. The maroon of the garment made her eyes look darker and deeper, even though they were visibly tired. She had been prescribed pills to help her sleep better, but she was always reluctant to use them, afraid that she would never be able to live without them if she started.

“Are you busy?” He asked, glad none of the other seats in the vicinity were occupied. Isabel shook her head again, pushing the paper towards him. It was something about a writing contest for high school students. “You’re participating?”

“I want to.” She put the lid back on the pen. “The winner gets their piece printed in the paper.”

“That’s class! I’m sure you can do it.”

“That isn’t even the best part.” She put her finger over a certain line on the page. “See that? Five hundred quid.”

“The prize money?

“Yes. It’s a lot of money.”

“You’re doing it for the money?” he frowned.

“Yes.” She looked at him. “I need money. I want to get out of here and be independent.”

Isabel put away the newspaper, stretched her legs, and glanced out the window. When she looked at him again, he was staring. “What?”

“You don’t want to be here?” he asked, his heart sinking to learn that she was unhappy in Sligo. Yes, they knew nothing made her happy anymore, but at least she was safe and loved there.

“I want to be on my own.” She hung her head low. “I feel like I’m being a burden. Ben’s parents—”

“They’re now your parents as well.”

“That’s because it was better than being sent to a shelter or something. I’m not Ben. Not their own.”

“You’re their niece. And their adopted daughter.” Brandon shook his head with a sigh. “Izzi, those people love you. They see no difference between you and Ben.”

“I feel like they’re just doing me a favour, because they feel guilty.” She looked at him with liquid eyes. “I can’t be their responsibility forever.”

“No one lives with their parents forever,” he smiled reassuringly. “You will eventually move out. But there’s no hurry, okay? You’ll go to college, get a career, do something big in life.”

“Nachos coming up!” 

Denise swayed through the maze of tables to reach the booth. Isabel looked down at the plate of chips topped with cheese, tomatoes, and hot peppers.

“What are you doing here?” Brandon frowned at his second-eldest sister.

“I did not order any food,” Isabel said.

“This is more than food. This is a work of art.” Denise wiped her hands on her apron and pointed at the plate, looking at her brother for confirmation. “See how beautiful it turned out? I used Dad’s special chips to make that.”

“I’m not even hungry,” Isabel protested again. The blonde young woman tsked.

“Come now.” She patted her shoulder. “Share the food, watch the sunset, make it a date.”

Brandon laughed as Denise left. People in the town thought she was his girlfriend, probably because he had not dated anyone else after Isabel came and she was the only girl anyone saw him with. But it was not a formal relationship. Probably would not be given her state and the restrictions his new career imposed. As someone who talked a mile an hour, he often turned quieter around Isabel, just to give her room to open up and share her musings. Hearing that refined accent was like a slice of heaven, as was relishing a cup of coffee with her or having her doze off on his shoulder while watching a movie or holding her hand while walking her home. 

“I’m really not hungry,” she repeated.

“Me neither,” he replied, pushing the plate of food to the side. “You can take it home for Ben.”

She took a sip of her drink. “When are you leaving for London?”

“Monday morning. We’ll probably go straight to the BBC studio for an interview. We’re also going to be on three different TV shows.” He leaned forward on the table. “Didn’t Ben tell you?”

“I didn’t ask.” Putting the mug down, Isabel folded her hands on the table. “When will you be back again?”

“Not sure. Louis had said we’d have a couple of days off before the album releases and then it’ll get busy again.”

“Oh.” She licked her upper lip. “You’ll be having fun, then. Do you like London?”

“Yeah! It’s big, glitzy, and totally different from what I’d known so far,” he smiled. “It’s like a whole world opening in front of us.”

“I know. You’ll be big. You deserve it.” Isabel slipped on her glove and stared at the fields. The sun was lowering in the western sky, bathing the hills in its warm afterglow. “I had never been to the countryside until I visited Sligo for the first time. I’m often envious that you grew up in this idyllic place.”

“We went riding through Hazelwood today.” Brandon studied her face, the glow of her soft features in the yellow pendant light inexplicably clenching his chest. “Ben was very excited to ride Carlton Snowball after a while.”

“When did you get your first horse?”

“I was seven years of age. It was a little grey pony called Jasper.”

“Did you ride him?”

“I did, yeah.” Brandon laughed at the memory. “He’d eat anything, you know, from twigs to apples, even Tayto crisps and Twix bars. I loved feeding him, taking care of him. He was a little family pet, like a dog.”

“Carlton Flight is still your favourite, isn’t he?” she asked. “You’ve had him for years.”

“Yes, and I’ve won a lot of competitions with him. The Belgian Grand Prix, the West Grand Prix, and many more.” He watched her push the half-full mug towards him. “I’ve had him for six years. He’s definitely my favourite.”

“Ben told me you also had a dog a long time ago. A German Shepherd, right?”

“Yes. Kaiser.” He shook the content of the mug. “I can’t believe you remember every detail.”

“I never forget anything. Life would be easier if I had that ability.”

“Didn’t you have a cat for a while?”

Isabel shook her head. “He wasn’t mine,” she answered. “I saved him from getting run over but despite how soft and cute he was, I knew I would never be allowed to keep him. I handed him to a shelter I volunteered with, and he later went to a nice home.”

“What did you call him?” Brandon asked, taking a sip of the now-lukewarm beverage.

“Snowflake.” She gazed out of the window again. “He wasn’t white, though. I named him that because I found him on a snowy day.”

“Would you like to have pets of your own?” Even without asking, Brandon knew in his heart that she would indeed love having animals around her. The only times she ever came close to smiling was while petting the horses at the barn or rubbing the belly of Mark’s dog, Ozzy, or when she spotted a deer or a bunny in the fields.

“No.” Her sigh was heavy. “I have nothing to call my own. How can I take care of another creature?”

She glanced at her bag. “Can you help me with my Irish homework? I have to complete an assignment and there’s a part I’m stuck at.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod, only too willing to help. Isabel fished out an exercise book from her bag, came over to the other side, and sat next to him when he moved inside the booth. She had always done well in school. Despite a new education system, she showed no significant difficulty. After all, she was an intelligent girl, aware, knowledgeable, and well-read, unlike the girls in the town, who were interested in makeup, clothes, parties, and boys. At the same time, for a city girl, she was too sweet and simple, without any air around her. Had it not been for her accent and her eye-catching appearance, no one could tell she had just moved from a different country. 

“Do the lads hit on you?” he suddenly asked, the words out before he could help it. She looked at him.

“Which lads?”

“In school. Do they?”

She opened the book on the table. “Would you be jealous if they did?”

Yes, he would. “That’s not what I meant,” he lied. “I mean, are they decent with you? Do they misbehave?”

“No. They think I’m mental and might bite or scratch if they push the wrong buttons. They do try to talk to me sometimes, though.”

“Yeah? What do they say?”

“One of them asked me yesterday why we have different surnames if I’m Ben’s sister.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Turning the pages, she sighed. “Don’t worry. No one hits on me. Only you do.”

“Yeah.” He pushed back a dislodged lock of hair from her forehead. “I’m weak for you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re a good Catholic lad. You’re ingrained in this town. I’m only an outsider.”

“Yes, that’s why Mam is knitting you a stocking for Christmas. That’s why Hunter makes you special pizzas. That’s why Yvonne wants you to be one of her bridesmaids next year.” His face inched closer to hers. “All because you’re an outsider.”

Her eyes lowered. “I told your sister I cannot be her bridesmaid.”

“She knows you’ll change your mind.”

A group of teenagers filed into the booth across from theirs, and even with her back to them, a change washed over her bearing.

“They’re staring at me, aren’t they?” she whispered to him. Brandon cast a glance over her shoulder, his jaw stiffening to find them indeed gawking at her and sniggering among themselves. 

“Maybe they’re staring at me,” he soothed. Isabel shook her head.

“They are from my school.” The glow of her face faded into darkness. “They always do that when I’m around.”

A tinge of anger swelled inside him. “Just ignore them,” he murmured, tugging her closer to himself. So much for trying to convince her that she was not an outsider.

“I ignore them all week. I’m tired of doing it outside school too.” Closing the exercise book, she rose from the seat and collected her bag and her coat. “I better go.”

“We didn’t work on your assignment.”

“I can do it by myself.”

“Wait. I’ll walk you home.” Brandon grabbed the plate of nachos and followed her out of the booth, the teenagers not ceasing to stare and snicker until they could no longer see her. He quickly packed the food in a takeaway box and held the door open for Isabel. The air had turned crisp and misty, the sun bathing the horizon in the last rays. They started to walk homeward, her eyes on the ground.

“So, do and mé make dom,” she said. “And do and tú make duit.”

“Correct.” Brandon felt a spark of pride upon hearing her near-perfect Irish pronunciation. In only six months, she had most of the basics right. “Do and sinn make dúinn, and do and siad make dóibh.”

She considered the answer. “How does ad change into bh?”

“Don’t ask me.” He held back a laugh. “It’s the same with de and iad, which become díobh. So, if you want to say ‘I am sick of them’, you say, tá mé tinn díobh.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled dryly, staring at the ground again. Brandon reached for her hand, and her fingers wrapped around his.

“I know there are mean people in this town,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry about what you face in school. But I hope you know that not everyone is like them. I’m definitely not.”

“I know.” Isabel squeezed his hand. “I’ve never met another person like you.”

They stopped momentarily to let a tractor pass. “Like what?” he asked.

“Happy, open, funny. Disarmingly positive.” She watched the twilight sky darken with grey clouds. “Ben always said that despite being popular with both guys and girls, you’re one of the warmest and kindest lads in town.”

“I’m sure he was exaggerating,” he chuckled awkwardly.

“You’re the brother he never had. He knows you better than most people.”

His heart flipped when she looked him in the eye. “Did you mean what you said the other day?”

“Said what?”

“That you love me.”

His cheeks felt hot. “Why wouldn’t I mean it?”

“Because you’re the epitome of everything that’s good and bright in this world, Brandy. And I’m…”

Her shoulders sagged. “You know what I am.”

He could think of a million things to say in response but also knew that nothing would change her mind. When the whole world – including his family – was fawning over him and turning him into a popstar, he was thankful that she still treated him with the same normality as always.

“What would you like for me to bring you?” He tugged her in front of him, shielding her against a fast-approaching car. “We’ll be going to a lot of places over the next few weeks and we’ll shop when we get the time. London, Mexico, LA…”

She turned to face him in response, letting go of his hand to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Brandon instinctively leaned in, and her head came to rest on his shoulder, her breath on his neck making the tiny hair on his skin stand up.

“Just bring yourself,” she answered, her lips a hair’s breadth away from his. “I’ll be waiting.”

His stomach knotted, and on an impulse, he laid his lips onto hers. She opened up, deepening the contact, the moist softness of her mouth making him inwardly shiver. When her hand slid down his chest, he cupped her face, giving it his all.

She was bliss. Pure bliss.

“Hurry before it starts to rain,” Isabel said, relieving him of the box of food. “Goodnight, Brandy.”

“Goodnight, Izzi.” They turned in opposite directions, and when he looked back just before turning the corner, he found her standing at the doorway of the Barrett residence, waiting until he had disappeared from view before she closed the door. She always did that diligently, one of those little gestures that warmed his heart. Brandon smiled to himself, knowing he could not wait to see her again.