Chapter 7 Colby #2
“Yes, dinner,” Celly says and once more takes my arm and leads me to that chair next to the head of the table. I want to object because I have a sneaking suspicion I know who sits in that one, but it’s the closest place to Maggie, so it wouldn’t make sense for me to object, right?
My brain can’t come up with an excuse quickly enough, as Celly practically shoves me—okay, she doesn’t shove me, she barely gives me a little push—to sit, then points to the door at the far corner of the room.
“The kitchen’s just through there. I’m sure someone will show you around later, but you come in there if you need anything and I’ll get you sorted out.”
“Thanks, thank you.” I can’t help my awkward tone, not when everyone is still fucking staring at me.
Celly doesn’t seem to mind, though.
Duffy makes himself right at home in the chair next to mine, Mac one over, and right across from Duffy, Rory takes a seat so there’s no one in front of me.
It’s not just me. The awkward silence could be filled quickly enough if anyone here wanted to, and I’m praying someone will say something soon as Blake comes in and sits next to Rory, right across from Mac.
Why didn’t he sit in front of me?
As far as I know, no one else is—
“Good.” Eian’s voice sounds from the entrance, and he surveys us like he’s a general or something. “Celly, we’re ready,” he calls out loudly.
My eyes can’t seem to move away from him.
He looks different in the warm light of the house compared to the clinic. Sharper somehow, more . . . alive?
He’s wearing two pieces of a gray, pinstriped, three-piece suit—he probably abandoned the jacket somewhere—and a black tie.
The way the vest and shirt hug his body, and the way the pants hang perfectly around his hips without a belt, show it’s expertly tailored clothing.
It makes him seem more powerful than he already did.
He pulls out the chair at the head of the table, just like I feared, but won’t sit down. His eyes are locked on me as well, I realize, and I wonder if he’s been cataloging everything about my appearance like I’ve been doing to him.
Movement to my left startles me, and I turn to see a man, guy, kid really, pulling out the chair across from me.
He’s . . . Jesus fucking Christ.
“Colby, this is my son, Bran.”
I’m speechless, and I’m never fucking speechless, which has always been the number one thing to get me into trouble.
“Nice to meet you, Colby.” He smiles at me, and it’s a friendly, almost shy kind of smile, before bending over and kissing the top of Rory’s head. “Hey, Ma.”
Aaand that’s as much as my brain can take.
“The fuck?” I snap quietly.
I turn to see Eian looking at me, then Rory, and oh boy, she is not happy with me. I feel this visceral instinct to run, to hide, and dammit, I thought I’d learned to be comfortable around her, but now I realize that probably will never happen.
“Do you have a problem?” she asks. Her voice makes me feel like I’m about to get eaten alive by a lioness—and everyone knows you should be more afraid of a lioness than of a lion.
“N-n-n-no, no problem,” I hurry to answer. “I just d-didn’t know you a-a-and Eian ha-had a s-s-son.”
Dear God, of all the moments for my stutter to make a thirty-year comeback, why did it have to be this one?
“Can I please tell the story this time?” Bran asks, suddenly very loudly and damn excited. He’s looking at Duffy, though, not at his . . . parents.
Well, if there were ever a time to feel like a total loser for having a crush on an unattainable guy, this is it.
“Sure, buddy. You’ve heard it enough times. I’m sure you’ll do it justice,” Duffy says right as Celly wheels in a two-story cart full of big plates.
It smells freaking amazing, and since everyone is suddenly very preoccupied with food, that gives me a chance to take a few deep breaths and remind myself that I know Rory won’t hurt me.
Yes, knowing she and Eian are together is a shock, because of course it is, but I can get through this. I need to get through this.
“You want mashed or baked potatoes?”
I jump a little at how close Duffy’s voice sounds. I really need to be more aware in this house, my freaking life could depend on it.
“Uh, mashed please,” I tell him, my voice barely audible since I don’t want to draw any attention to myself, but he passes me the bowl anyway.
I grab the meatloaf and get a big piece for myself before putting it back in the middle of the table, and after one extra-big breath I look up directly at Bran.
I refuse to look at Eian, maybe ever again, and instead I’ll just speak to his mini-me.
“Sorry, Bran. It’s nice to meet you too,” I tell him.
It’s not just the threat of Rory causing serious bodily harm that reminds me of my manners.
I’m being honest when I say it’s nice to meet him, because now I have a great reason to get my head fucking straight—and my hormones.
“You’ll get used to her,” he tells me, that friendliness that’s so unlike either of his parents still at the forefront.
“Anyway, the story of my conception,” he says like it’s a big announcement, and I really don’t want to hear this, but I can’t think of a way of stopping him without enraging his mother again, so I focus on my food.
No matter how hard I try to tune him out, though, I can’t.
“Wait, Ma, did you tell him how you met Dad already, or do I have to catch him up?”
“We told him,” Duffy assures him.
Just stare at your food, Colby, the part of my subconscious that likes to stay alive mutters at me.
“Good, so, when Ma was twenty, after thinking about it for a long time, she decided she wanted to be a mom, and so one night they were all here at this table having dinner . . .”
I have to look up then, because it’s obvious he’s only telling this story for my benefit. Everybody else here clearly knows all of this already. It would be such an asshole move not to at least look at him, and no matter what, I know none of what I’m going through is Bran’s fault.
“And she just asked Dad if he wanted to make a baby with her.”
He snorts like it’s the funniest thing, and most of the table laughs too—though I studiously ignore the low chuckle from my right.
“If you believe the way they tell it, Duffy jumped across the whole table and almost stabbed Dad right then and there.”
“You did?” I whirl around to ask Duffy, and feel how wide my eyes are. “Why?”
“I dunno,” he says with his mouth full of food. “I wasn’t gonna let him defile my little sister.”
“You’re the oldest?” I ask, though I don’t know why my mind latches on to that fact.
“Of course I am,” he cries out, sounding beyond offended. “I’m the mature one, haven’t you noticed?” I . . . don’t know if he’s kidding or not, but I go with my gut.
“No, Duffy, I haven’t. You make Rory look sane,” I deadpan.
He can’t hold back his bark of laughter, and thankfully neither can Bran. My eyes move to Rory on instinct. Am I hoping I regained some points with her with that little comment? Well, yes I am.
“So while Uncle Duffy was doing his best to kill Dad, Mac and Blake were trying to get them apart, but he wouldn’t stop fighting them.
All the while, Dad didn’t know what the fuck was going on.
” He pitches his voice lower, I guess to imitate his father?
“Until Ma screamed at all of them to stop acting like animals and then told Duffy to relax, that she . . . What did you say exactly, Ma?” He turns to Rory.
She smiles fondly at him—real fondness too, so I guess it wasn’t a bad thing that she became a mother?
“She said ‘Eian’s like our big brother, you dumb fucking sack of rocks,’” Duffy fills in, and he pitches his voice up.
“I don’t want to fuck him, and I won’t, we’re just gonna make a baby in a lab or something.
” Since I’ve seen how they talk to each other this past week, I can picture that interaction vividly.
Eian scoffs from my right, and I turn in his direction faster than I should. I try to school my face so I’m not staring like a lovesick idiot.
“As if I’d ever want to have sex with Rory.” Eian winces and shudders like that thought is revolting. “That’s a step too close to incest for my taste.”
“Yeah, even though you’re my parents, I’m very grateful you’re not together.” Bran smiles sweetly at his mother.
“I don’t know which of them would’ve burned the house down first,” Duffy mumbles, and that’s a bit too much for me.
I swear I try, but I can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up and then out.
It practically explodes out of me after the beat of silence that follows Duffy’s words, and of course, there’s also the sick relief that Rory and Eian aren’t together, but we’re just gonna ignore that, and yeah, I mean the royal “we.”
So . . . I’m going insane, like, Rory-level insane. It’s the only explanation for feeling this way.
That’s a problem for another day. For now I try to just enjoy the laughter.
“You’re weird,” Duffy says, again, suddenly all up in my personal space.
“I like it,” he declares with his slightly-too-wide grin.
The insane assessment has some merit because his declaration stops my laughter short, and the strong and sudden burst of feeling inside me is also something I can’t stop from spilling over.
“Oh, man.” I sigh out the words. “I used to wish so fucking hard to be normal,” I admit, my voice annoyingly honest and vulnerable.
“But I never managed it. Sure, I’m not in the diagnosed abnormal range like you .
. .” The fake humor in my voice falls flat, but the way Duffy’s smile softens helps.
It helps more than it should. “But people have always told me I’m weird. ”
Looking at Duffy, I can’t help but feel like he’s actually my friend now. That thought is like a big black ball of dread falling to the pit of my stomach.
I need to come to terms with the fact that my life—my precious life where I was a journalist and an investigator, a researcher—is over. There’s no going back. Ever.
All I’ll be able to use my talents for from now on, is these people.
No matter what happens when I help them take down Lucian Venuti’s human trafficking operation, I still won’t be able to get that life back.
I don’t know if this is the very second I accept it, but it’s the first step toward admitting defeat. I suspect my brain will free up considerable space once I do.
“We’re all weird,” Eian says before Duffy can take control of the conversation again.
I can’t resist the siren’s call that is his voice. I have to see him. It’s not voluntary, but also not involuntary.
It just is.
“Every one of us,” he continues, his eyes not as cold, his face not as set in stone. He’s not soft, no. Nothing about Eian could ever be soft. “And we’re in good company.”
Then he actually smiles. Like, a real smile.
I’m so done for.