Chapter Hozier - Take Me to Church
HOZIER - TAKE ME TO CHURCH
The service hurt.
The aftermath hurt.
Shaking hands with all my brothers hurt.
Talking to people who’d respected my dad hurt.
Dealing with business associates hurt.
It all fucking hurt.
It didn’t goddamn matter that he’d been dead since December 25th.
It didn’t matter that I’d had months to mourn.
It was a raw open wound in my fucking soul and no one, no one, apart from the woman standing at my side throughout it all, understood.
Because she knew what secret I was keeping.
We’d freed him together, after all.
When Aidan O’Donnelly Jr. showed up, his hand outstretched, it took me a second to realize that a Five Pointer, one who wasn’t Declan, had shown up for the ceremony.
I shook his hand and rasped, “I’m grateful you could make it.”
“Even in the city, we know what Bear got up to,” he remarked, sympathy in his eyes.
“Men like you and me, Rex, we see a side of our fathers no kid should ever have to see. And in the aftermath, we have to handle the kind of business that no kid should ever have to inherit.” He reached out and clapped a hand to my arm.
“If there’s anything we can do, you know to get in touch. ”
Before he could step away, his fingers tightening around the cane in his grasp, I rumbled, “Your father’s insane.”
He tipped his head to the side in surprise at my statement. More because he knew I wasn’t saying it to insult him or his parent. This was an opportunity I didn’t realize I’d be afforded, but he was right—I’d inherited a business that no grieving kid should ever have to deal with.
That I’d inherited it when my dad was still alive didn’t matter.
“He is,” was all Junior said. “What’s he done now?”
“Is he good for his word?”
Junior’s brow furrowed. “What has he promised?”
“For certain acts, an amnesty.”
“From NYC’s finest?”
I nodded. “Is he capable of following through with that offer?”
“In the city, yes. On the East Coast, it depends.”
A slow breath gusted from my lips. “I appreciate your candor.”
“If you want to talk about it, in a safer, more private setting, I can make arrangements.” He dipped a hand into his coat and pulled out a card. “My direct line. You don’t have to go through Declan to reach it.”
I palmed the card then pocketed it without a second’s glance. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”
He bowed his head and stepped back and limped away. Only pausing when MaryCat hurled herself at him, hugging him tightly. Junior surprised me by embracing her in return, and Digger and the other man shared a look over her shoulder.
The trio shuffled off together, prompting me to realize he was attending alone. I knew he had a girlfriend, but she wasn’t with him. For her safety? I couldn’t blame him; if I were attending his father’s funeral, I wouldn’t bring Rachel.
The card burned a hole in my pocket, but it came with relief too.
Harlow and Nyx were only in the preparation stages, but I needed to nip this in the bud, fast, if O’Donnelly Sr. tried to get them out of the city and beyond the influential reach of the Irish Mob.
There came a point where the council and their Old Ladies, Storm, his Keira, Cyan, and Rain were the only ones in the graveyard. Lily moved over to us then, and she held out a picture for me.
I gritted my teeth when I saw the happy, smiling faces of my mom and dad, dancing to that goddamn song. Which, like twisting the knife in the wound, was when it came on again.
A choked sound escaped me and I accidentally crumpled the photo in my hand. But Lily and Rachel shared a glance, and somehow, Rachel translated, because all of a sudden, she was in my arms, and she was prompting me to move.
Around us, each Old Man and Old Lady, hell, even Rain and Cyan, tumbled into the other’s embrace and started dancing. Nothing more than a shuffle, but it was a dance, nonetheless.
I got it.
I did.
A celebration—a full circle.
I’d requested that the song be played as we brought his coffin into the graveyard, but I hadn’t asked for this.
Fuck, this hurt.
I wanted to howl out my grief. My anger. My sorrow. My bitterness. My fucking loss.
But I didn’t.
I just let my woman hold me, I just shuffled to ‘My Sweet Lord’ like my mom and dad had done once upon a time, and I vowed that no one would touch my woman, not without the entirety of the East Coast feeling my wrath.
No one, no fucking one, would take Rachel from me.
That was more of a vow than I’d make to her in a church.