6. Cormac
Chapter Six
CORMAC
I wait for the relief to hit and the adrenaline to fade, but it never does.
Even as I sit across from Scout at the breakfast table, watching him push his chocolate chip pancakes around his plate, all I feel is a suffocating panic.
This isn’t the same Scout.
He moves through the house quietly, like he’s afraid of making too much noise. He answers my questions with nothing more than a nod or shrug, or sometimes nothing at all.
When Ciara tries to distract him by making him his favorite food or Riley brings out some new toys, he accepts them without any enthusiasm.
He hasn’t even cried, and that scares me more than anything.
It’s been almost twenty-four hours since we brought him home, and I haven’t let him out of my sight.
Not when he eats or when he sits on the couch with his knees pulled to his chest, staring at nothing.
Not when Riley gently suggests a bath, and I hover just outside the door like a guard dog, listening for any sign of distress.
At this point, I think I would prefer him to scream and cry over this empty look in his eyes that he’s had ever since we brought him home.
I tell myself it’s temporary. That once the adrenaline fades and the house settles back into something resembling normal, I’ll loosen my grip on him, but that’s a lie. The truth is, I don’t trust the world anymore.
By the time night comes around, exhaustion hangs heavy over the house, the kind that seeps into your bones.
Riley snuck away to bed hours ago, taking Kieran and Aubrey with her while Ronan and Ciara huddle away in the TV room with the twins.
Scout lets me carry him upstairs to bed even though he hasn’t let me do that in months.
His arms loop around my neck automatically as he rests his head on my shoulder.
It’s the only willing contact he’s offered me all day, and I almost lose it right there on the stairs.
I tuck him into bed with his stuffed dinosaur, taking extra care in smoothing out the blanket and turning on the nightlight, hoping that the sense of routine and normalcy will make him feel safe.
Scout watches me the entire time, but he says nothing.
I sit on the edge of the bed and brush his hair back from his forehead. “You okay, buddy?”
He nods as he looks away, clutching his stuffed toy to his chest.
I take that as my cue to turn off the light.
“Daddy?”
My hand freezes.
“Yeah?”
He hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip.
I can see the effort it takes for him to get the words out, like he’s afraid if he opens his mouth too much, something worse might slip out with them.
“That man…” he says slowly as he stares straight ahead, a distant look in his eyes.
My body goes rigid as the image of Adrian manhandling my son floods my mind.
“What about him?” I try very hard to keep my tone light.
“He said he was my…granddad.”
I keep my face carefully neutral, even though my pulse is roaring in my ears.
This is the conversation I knew was coming, and I’ve been dreading it ever since we brought Scout home.
“I know,” I say gently.
Scout frowns as he fiddles with his toy. “But you said Grandpa died.”
“He did. The man you saw… He was just confused.”
“So, he’s not my granddad?”
I swallow hard. “Not in the way he meant. It’s…complicated.”
He nods slowly before shifting down the bed and resting his head on the pillow.
“Can you tell me tomorrow? My head feels tired,” he mumbles as his eyes start to droop.
Guilt slices straight through me as I look at my son.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Tomorrow.”
He rolls onto his side, and within minutes, his breathing evens out, and his body finally surrenders to sleep. I turn out the light and sit there, watching him like he might disappear if I look away.
My chest aches with everything I didn’t say, everything I’m still hiding from him.
I should have handled that better. But all I can think about is how close I came to losing him. How easily this could have ended with a body bag and a lifetime of pain and regret.
This whole mess has been one hell of a wake-up call. It’s taught me that I can never get distracted by my heart, especially when my son’s life is on the line.
Eventually, I force myself to stand. But even then, I linger in the doorway for just a moment, committing the sight of my son sleeping peacefully to memory before quietly closing the door.
Then I turn and head straight for Fiona’s room.
Now that Scout is home and safe, I need to address the other threat that is still looming over his head, and mine too.
I don’t bother knocking.
When I enter the room, Fiona looks up from where she’s sitting cross-legged on the bed.
I immediately notice the flicker of hope in her eyes at the sight of me. It’s like a candle that refuses to go out no matter how many times I try to extinguish it.
That only makes me angrier, my temper already fried from the altercation with Smirnov.
“You don’t get to look at me like that.”
Fiona’s shoulders stiffen.
“Cormac—”
I hold up a hand to silence her. “No. It’s my turn to talk.”
“Okay…” she whispers, shifting on the bed to face me head-on.
I don’t stray from the door, needing to keep some distance between us while we do this.
I’ve proven to myself time and time again that I lose all ability for rational thought when I’m around Fiona, and now is not the time to not be thinking straight.
“I spent the last twenty-four hours thinking my son was dead,” I start, my voice dangerously calm. “I held his shaking body in my arms and wondered if I had ruined his life beyond repair. And every time I replay it, every time I think about how it happened, my thoughts always come back to you.”
Her face instantly crumples. “I didn’t mean—”
“I told you, it’s my turn to talk. I don’t want to hear about how you didn’t mean to lie to my face, or that you didn’t mean to sneak into my brother’s office and tamper with evidence.”
“I was trying to help you!” She climbs to her feet and crosses over to me. But she stops short when she sees the look on my face. “I was going to tell you everything—”
“Only after you got caught! Only then did you decide to come clean.”
Fiona opens her mouth, then closes it.
Her silence tells me everything.
“You don’t get the benefit of the doubt anymore. Not after what I know. Not after what you did,” I say quietly as I step closer, but to my surprise, she doesn’t back away.
She lifts her chin, refusing to wipe away the tears that are spilling down her flushed cheeks. Her voice shakes. “Then what are you going to do with me?”
The question hangs between us, and for a moment, I stare into her blue eyes, trying to see if I can look past the betrayal to find the woman beneath, the one I was starting to fall for.
But I can’t.
Maybe she was never there to begin with.
“For now, you’re going to stay right here where I can see you. You are not to leave this house without my say-so. You don’t touch another computer or another phone unless I’m standing right there. Understand?”
“You’re locking me up.”
It’s not a question.
“I’m containing a threat,” I correct. “Until you can prove you’re not one.”
“I told you the truth about Lorcan and the files. I wanted you to know what he was planning.”
“And how do I know you’re not still lying? How do I know this isn’t another angle that the two of you are playing?”
“Because I love you, Cormac,” she whispers as she reaches for me.
I grab her wrists instinctively, hard enough to remind her that I’m still the one in control here, but not so hard that it will leave a bruise. “You don’t get to say that. Not after everything.”
Her eyes shine with tears, but she doesn’t fight against my grip.
She lowers her gaze. “It’s true. I love you.”
For a moment, I almost believe her, and that’s what terrifies me.
I keep hold of her wrist as I take another step closer so that if she were to take a deep breath, her breasts would brush against my chest.
My free hand slides to her jaw, tilting her face up until she has no choice but to look at me.
“You have broken my trust. And right now, I’m not sure if you’ll ever be able to earn it back. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re mine, Fiona Callahan.”
Her lips part ever so slightly, drawing my attention away from her eyes to her mouth.
It feels like a lifetime since I’ve tasted them, tasted her.
She must see the need in my eyes as she moves closer until I can feel her warm body against mine, and I have to swallow a groan.
I don’t know where my anger ends and my need for her begins, and that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
“Cormac…”
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” I grit out, my grip tightening around her neck just enough to remind her who’s standing in front of her.
“I know,” she whispers.
Something raw and desperate flickers in her eyes, and that’s when I finally give in.
I’m not soft or gentle as I claim her mouth, making sure not to loosen my grip on her neck as I slide my tongue against hers.
Blood immediately rushes to my cock at the first taste of her.
This is the last thing I should be doing, but right now, taking Fiona to bed feels like the only thing I can control.
I walk forward until the backs of her thighs hit the edge of the bed. Only then do I break the kiss.
“Take off your clothes and crawl onto the bed,” I order as I reach for my belt.
Already she’s breathless, her cheeks flushed with color, but she makes no attempt to move. “If this is some sort of trick—"
“Believe me, I’m not in the mood to play games, Fiona. Now, take off your clothes.”
I stand with my teeth gritted as I try to ignore the ache in my pants, watching as Fiona starts to strip.
It’s not lost on me how she takes her time pulling her shirt over her head to reveal her full breasts or sliding her panties down her thighs.
Fuck, it’s been so long since I’ve touched her.
My fingers itch with the need to feel her skin, but I can’t give in. At least, not in the way I used to. But that longing becomes almost unbearable the moment she steps out of her panties, kicks them aside, and stands completely bare before me.
Walk away, before you forget who she really is.