Mostly In Scotland

He told me his name was Brennan, that he was Irish, raised “mostly in Scotland, you know,” and that was all I needed to know. Just like that. And, in a way, I suppose he was right–mostly because the Brennan I’d spent the last year with, the Brennan who’d held me and touched me and fucked me and promised me things on which he actually delivered, always, really seemed to have no bearing on a Brennan of the past. Or as far as he was concerned, never needed to. So, I closed my eyes and consented; simply, I never found a reason not to. But I admit to not having looked, either.

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