Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
KIERAN
It would be so easy to stay locked inside my office for the rest of the day, but the rest of the world doesn’t stop turning just because mine has.
Aiden sent me an email with some security footage over an hour ago, but I still haven’t brought myself to look at it. I already know it’s going to be another dead end.
Cormac has been gone for weeks now, and no one, not one single person, seems to know where the hell he is.
Every contact and ally I can think of has been on the lookout for Cormac, and every day I hear of a sighting or a lead that ends up going nowhere.
“Screw this.” I pour myself another drink and take it over to my desk to finally open up the file Aiden sent on my laptop.
I watch it half a dozen times, zooming in on the flickering image of a man leaving a seedy motel on the south side of the city.
He looks around the same height and build as Cormac, and if you take a shot and squint, you could almost convince yourself it was him.
But it’s not.
“Not even close.” I slam the laptop shut.
I’ve retraced Cormac’s every step from the last bar he was seen in to the safe house he stopped by.
I even managed to track down the woman he was supposedly seeing, but I still have found nothing.
It’s like he evaporated off the face of the earth.
And the longer he’s missing, the worse the possibilities become.
“You’re fucking useless,” I snarl at myself.
I push back the chair and get to my feet.
The quiet of my office bunker and the vintage Macallan whisky are no longer dulling the roaring in my head, so I decide to head out.
I know I should go home, but the thought of seeing Riley and facing our new reality makes me want to claw my own skin off.
What I need is more booze, so I take the elevator down to the garage, pick out the keys for my Aston Martin, and head straight for The Blackthorn. It’s the only place where I can drink myself into oblivion, which is exactly what I intend to do.
I’ve barely taken a seat at the bar before Hudson slides a double whiskey along the bar toward me. It doesn’t touch the sides, and he quickly sets another in front of me, as well as the rest of the bottle.
“Good man,” I mutter.
The lighting in The Blackthorn is dim, which helps to ease the dull throbbing in my temples.
Normally, I can function on little sleep and a diet of booze and leftover pizza, but right now my body feels like it might finally be losing the fight.
How the hell did I get here?
Riley Walsh ended up on my doorstep, that’s how.
This is all Ronan’s fault.
Snatching up the bottle, I toss back a few swigs. Even just thinking about Riley has my chest feeling like it’s being sliced open and my ribs flayed out.
I knew I was falling hard for her, but I let myself because I figured she was feeling the same.
But after what she did, after how she lied about being pregnant with my kid, there’s no way she could feel anything close to what I feel for her.
I drink until I no longer think of Riley, or at the very least, the thoughts of her that do creep in leave me feeling numb rather than broken. By that time, the bottle is empty, the room is spinning, and I’m holding on to the edge of the bar just to stay upright.
I don’t remember paying my tab or even leaving the bar. But somehow, I find myself behind the wheel of my Aston and speeding back toward Washington Heights. It’s a miracle I don’t wrap my car around a lamppost, though maybe it would have been better if I had.
The house is dark when I let myself in, but I don’t bother being quiet.
The door slams behind me, and I make sure to stomp my feet on every step as I head upstairs, walking straight past my room.
The thought of walking in there and seeing Riley’s things, smelling her perfume on the sheets, makes me want to throw up all the alcohol that is sitting heavy in my stomach. So, I make for Ronan’s office instead, kicking the door open and collapsing onto the leather couch.
I groan as the room starts to spin, so I throw an arm over my face and try not to focus on the sloshing of my stomach.
If I was smarter, I would have picked up something to eat on the way home.
It seems I am capable of nothing but bad decisions these days.
I’m not sure how long I lie there before the door creaks open again, and I lift my arm up enough to notice the outline of Ronan standing in the doorway.
“What the actual fuck are you doing?” Ronan’s voice cuts through the dark, followed by the click of the light switch.
The room floods with light, and I curse through my teeth as I try to shield my eyes.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“It’s half past two in the damn morning. Ciara’s asleep, and this isn’t your fucking house.”
I groan as I push myself up into a seated position, though my head instantly swims, and I have to lean against the back of the couch as I’m hit with the sudden urge to vomit.
“You asked us to stay here, remember? But if it’s that much of a hassle, I’ll go back to my place.”
Ronan exhales sharply before closing the door and leaning against it. “Cut the shit, Kieran. What’s really going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Has this got something to do with Riley?”
It seems I can’t escape her after all. “That’s none of your business.”
“She looked pretty upset when I saw her downstairs this morning. She said the two of you had a fight.”
A humorless laugh escapes my throat. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“And what’s another?”
“She flat-out lied to me.”
“Seriously? This is what this tantrum is about? A little white lie?”
“It’s not just a little white lie. Riley lied about being pregnant.”
For a moment, Ronan just stares at me, but then his eyebrows shoot up as the words finally register.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“And that’s not even the worst part. Apparently, the baby had a slow heartbeat, and there was a risk of miscarriage, and she didn’t bother to tell me.”
The words taste bitter on my tongue.
Despite the nausea, I force myself to my feet and stalk over to the bar cart. But Ronan gets there before I do and snatches up the decanter before I can pour another glass.
“I think you’ve had enough.”
“It’s barely scratched the surface,” I practically growl.
“Jesus, Kieran. You reek. Did you drive home?”
“Since when do you care about the law?”
“Since you’re about to be a father,” Ronan retorts. “Come with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s just to the kitchen, you stubborn piece of shit. You need to eat something before you vomit all over my carpet.”
I’m too intoxicated to fight Ronan, so I let him lead me back downstairs, though I almost knock into the table in the foyer and upend the antique vase of fresh lilies on the way to the kitchen.
“You really are a liability,” Ronan grumbles. “I thought you grew out of this phase of drinking yourself to the point of blacking out.”
“I bet you’re enjoying every second of it. I know you love to feel superior to the rest of us mere mortals.”
Ronan says nothing, but his grip on my arm tightens as he half-drags me into the kitchen and forces me down into a chair.
“Don’t move. I’m going to get you some water.”
I stare down at the table in a trance as Ronan moves around the kitchen, tracing the grain patterns with my eyes as I try not to vomit.
Eventually, a plate of toast is set down in front of me, as well as a glass of water, and I find myself reaching for it, which I take as a good sign.
“So…” Ronan starts as he slides into the chair across from me. “You’re going to be a father.”
I grunt as I devour the toast like a man who hasn’t eaten in weeks. It’s slathered in butter, just the way I used to have it when I was a child.
“How far along is she?”
I shrug before licking the butter off my fingers. “Seven weeks, maybe eight?”
Ronan stays quiet until my plate is clean and my water is empty.
I would never admit it to Ronan, but the food has helped, and the nausea is starting to pass.
“Eight weeks is still pretty early. Did you not know that maybe Riley wanted to be sure everything was all right before she told you?”
“Don’t you fucking defend her.” I slam my hand down onto the table. The glass and plate rattle, but Ronan doesn’t even flinch. “She should have told me the second she found out. I deserved to know.”
Ronan leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest, quietly studying me in a way that makes me want to claw my own skin off.
“Just fucking say whatever it is you need to say.”
“What’s really bothering you? The fact that Riley lied or that you’re terrified of being a father? Because let’s face it, not forgiving her won’t change the fact that it’s happening. You’re going to be a dad. So, you can either keep being pissed off, or you can figure out how to deal with it.”
“You don’t get it.” I lower my gaze to the table.
“Then make me get it.”
I don’t answer because the truth is, I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore. Anger, betrayal, fear… They’re all tangled together in a mess I can’t make sense of.
Riley lied. She looked me in the eyes every day for weeks and said nothing while I walked around oblivious. And for what? To protect me? Or because she didn’t trust me enough to stay?
Ronan gets to his feet and walks over to the coffee machine and picks up an envelope that is resting against it.
“Here.” He sets it down in front of me.
I frown at the sight of my name written on the front in delicate cursive.
“What’s this?”
“It’s from Riley. She asked me to give it to you, and I suggest you read it.”
I stare at the envelope, but don’t reach for it.
“She’s been sitting outside for the last three hours. Waiting for you to come home.”
That makes me look up. “She’s still awake?”
“She hasn’t moved from that chair by the pool. Looks like she’s been crying the whole time.”
Something tightens in my chest, but I shove the feeling down.
I don’t want to feel sorry for her. I don’t want to feel anything for her.
Ronan heads toward the door, but just before he leaves, he glances over his shoulder.
“Read the letter, Kieran. Then decide what you’re gonna do. But don’t let your pride make the decision for you.”
The door closes behind him, leaving me alone with the envelope staring back at me.
It sits there like a loaded gun, daring me to pick it up.
And after a long moment, I do.
Inside I find three pages, written front of back. The handwriting is rushed and messy, as if Riley’s hand couldn’t keep up with the pace of her thoughts.
The first few lines are an apology, and I almost stop reading. I heard all of this before in the doctor’s office, and quite frankly, I don’t care how sorry she is for lying. It doesn’t explain why she did it.
But curiosity keeps me reading.
Her apology starts to morph into a recollection of a conversation she overheard between me and Ronan in his office, one I barely remember myself. But I can understand why it would have stuck with Riley.
I had straight-out admitted to my brother how I wasn’t ready to be a father.
And the fact that she heard that not long before she found out she was pregnant with my child… It’s no wonder she was terrified of the possibility that I would walk away and see the baby as nothing more than a burden.
But what hurts even more is that she thought I would see my relationship with her as a mistake.
By the time I reach the end of the letter, my chest feels hollow.
Riley was scared, not because she wanted to deceive me, but because she thought she was protecting me. And as much as I hate to admit it, I understand.
I close the letter and press the heels of my hands to my eyes.
I’m such an asshole.
The truth is, I’m not just angry because she lied. I’m angry because she was right.
I am terrified of being a father and of screwing up. Of not being good enough for her or our child.
But none of that changes the fact that there’s a baby coming.
I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table and stare at the letter in my hands.
We need to talk, not as enemies, but as two people about to bring a life into this world.
But am I really ready for this conversation? To open my heart to pain again?