Chapter 26
ROWAN
I’m used to winter in Boston. It’s not that different in Spokane—significantly less snow, which is nice—but the early December temps are similar. It’s warm enough today to have the windows cracked in my Rogue. Nissan… I didn’t think I’d like it, but it’s nice. Reliable. It suits my needs. Besides, I never did get my Jeep back. I didn’t want it back—too many reminders of my old life attached to it.
I have a job out here as a bank teller. I’m pretty sure I only got it because Alistair is charming and very good at bullshitting. He did me a solid, pretending to be my ex-boss at a Salem Five Bank branch in Boston. It’s not a bad job; it requires basic math skills, patience, and a friendly smile. The constant smiling is the hardest part for me. Being immersed in the real world, I’m finding that people in general, not just mobsters, are unpleasant if not entirely douchey. Handling money doesn’t intimidate me whatsoever, with the wads of cash I used to deal with.
I don’t need to work; I want to. Dad died; there were no charges brought against him. Turns out the government doesn’t like to waste time or money prosecuting corpses. And since there’s no longer a tyrant to serve, the Monaghan crime syndicate pretty much dissolved itself, which was a good thing not only for me, but Alistair and Ben. They’re back in Boston, still looking over their shoulders, but the threat dies down with each passing day. Dad’s legal, squeaky-clean business—the marina—is mine, plus all the shit he had stashed there that was not above board. As agreed, I kept the marina—Al and Ben are running it for me—and sold the trash to Alfonso Rossi. I have ten million dollars I don’t want sitting in a bank account in the Cayman Islands. I’ll leave it for our kids—if we have any—and they won’t know it’s blood money. I say “if” but, knowing Jules, she’ll want at least two. That’s my magic number, too. Nobody should grow up without a sibling to bitch about their parents with.
I bang a right onto Sharp Ave and head for what Jules calls the Mess Hall—the student center—not because they serve food there, but because it’s where you get to see how stressed out and overwhelmed college kids are all of the time.
The campus is almost deserted this close to the semester’s end. I spot Jules sitting on a bench, shivering like one of those tiny, high-strung dogs despite her parka and all the layers she’s wearing beneath it. She walks around to the passenger side and slides in.
“Hi.” She leans across the center console for a kiss. I am more than happy to oblige her.
As she buckles her seatbelt I ask, “Why didn’t you wait inside, you adorable crazy person? I know you’re cold, it’s below sixty.” I roll up the windows and blast the heat, then take off toward the airport.
“I just spent two hours in a stuffy room taking an exam. I needed some fresh air.”
“Speaking of which, congrats! Last exam of your college career. How do you feel?”
“I don’t know. Scared, like life starts right this second and I’m completely unprepared for it. I don’t have a job lined up yet and I’m…” She drops her words in favor of a sigh.
I know she’s stressing about the future, even though she doesn’t need to work any more than I do. Everything in her father’s warehouse was seized by the ATF, but they couldn’t touch her parents’ house and couldn’t find all of her dad’s money. It’s about outrunning our legacies and making new ones for ourselves. I scoop up her hand and kiss the back of it.
“Well, I am wicked proud of you. And you should be proud of yourself. Let’s worry about the rest when we get back from Boston, okay? I’m actually kind of excited to have a real Christmas, with a tree and twinkly lights and presents.” All that stopped when my mom passed away.
“I told my mom how much you like Christmas and how shitty your dad always was about it, so she had the entire house decorated by a professional for you.”
That’s sweet but kind of excessive. “What?”
“Yeah.”
“She paid someone to put up a tree and string lights. That’s a thing? Like, an actual profession?”
“Apparently. My dad, Teague, and I used to do it until I went away for school, then it was Dad and Teague’s thing.” A subtle frown makes itself at home on her face. I forget sometimes that she had happy moments with her father. Moments when he was Patrick Calloway, regular dad and uncle who loved his daughter and nephew.
“Do you want to visit Teague while we’re home?”
She’s not ready to admit it, but she misses him. After months of working on “forgiveness and creating healthy boundaries” in therapy, she’s started taking his phone calls. That’s pretty significant.
“No,” she says firmly. “Orange isn’t his color.”
Unfortunate, since he’s going to be wearing it exclusively for the next ten years. His new home is the Federal Correctional Institution in beautiful downtown Berlin, New Hampshire. I do feel bad about that, considering I should be locked up, too. I got lucky. He didn’t. I remind myself that he’s better off inside than out. He has three hots, a cot, and he’s enrolled in college classes. He might take something positive away from his incarceration that he wouldn’t have bothered trying for otherwise.
“Thought I’d pitch the idea, is all.”
“It was a wild pitch, darling.” She throws a glance over her shoulder to the back seat for dramatic effect. “Oh wow, you managed to fit all the stuff in the trunk. I’m impressed.”
“I’m good at packing. It’s like real-life Tetris. I still don’t see why you felt the need to bring half your wardrobe for a two-week trip.”
“We have four different holiday parties to attend, and Rose’s is the event of the season. You can’t expect me to plan an outfit for each one so far in advance. Anyway, it’s very sexy that you’re so efficient. Look at all that space back there!” She chortles, then bites her lip. “I have an idea. We’ve got three hours before our flight. Want to find a place to park and have a semi-public quickie for old times’ sake?”
Hell yes, I do. I love having an apartment with a huge, comfortable bed for us to have sex in, but it’s called a “kink” for a reason. “We’re coming up on the Arboretum. I do believe that would be a very nice place to park.”
“Did you pack your strap-on? I’m in the mood.”
“Who are you talking to right now? I even made sure it was easily accessible.”
There’s that devilish grin she wears so well. She takes my hand from the gearshift and glides her fingers into the spaces between mine. “Let’s go.”
* * *