Chapter 39
LOCHLAN
“How’s school, boy-o?”
I shake Uncle Cillian’s hand firmly and bring him in for a hug.
“Oh, fine,” I shrug as we plop down on neighboring barstools.
I’m slightly hungover, after Achilles, Selene, and I were all commiserating last night: Achilles was upset about Yelena being on the outs with him, I avoided talking about Galina, and Selene's…
well, who knows what's going with her and Jude Nikolayev. Or possibly Kirill Tsarenko. Or both? Fuck, that’s more details about her sex life than I need.
In any case, after Achilles took off, Selene and I got into a bottle of vodka, which was a questionable move in hindsight, given our moods.
I still have no idea where the hell Achilles disappeared to. But I found his hoodie in the kitchen when I got up, reeking of diesel fumes and smoke, and the Hawthorne Hollow police discovered a burned-out boat in the harbor this morning, so…
Cillian chuckles. “Meaning you’re still the smartest fucker in the place, but keep tanking a test here and there to make sure Achilles is top of the class?”
I smile and lift a shoulder. “What? I don’t like being in the spotlight.”
Cillian roars out a laugh. “Such a crock of shite.”
The Irish lilt in my uncle’s…okay, great-uncle’s…voice gets the bartender's attention.
“Jameson, neat,” Cillian says.
When the guy glances at me, I nod. “Same, thanks.”
The Seven Bells is quiet. Then again, it’s two in the afternoon.
Cillian texted me a few hours ago that he’d be driving past Hawthorne Hollow on his way up to Boston for some business, so obviously I’m taking the opportunity to grab a drink with him, because he’s the best.
He was the head of the Kildare family for years before my dad took over. He’s retired now, but still lets himself get pulled into business here and there.
He’s also crazy. Like, legit a diagnosed psychopath.
People usually pick up on that within a few minutes of meeting him.
There’s just something slightly off, whether it's the way he makes unbroken eye contact or the way he has the answer to any question or problem before anyone else.
Or just that hint of savagery and madness you can maybe see in the edges of his eyes sometime.
Cillian psychopathy comes with a certain…bloodlust, or at least a trend towards violence. And he quenches those needs by specifically targeting the worst dregs of society, his favorites being those who prey on and abuse children.
Coolest great-uncle ever.
But while it would be a nightmare to be his enemy, my uncle would burn the world down for his family.
“Sláinte,” he murmurs, clinking his glass to mine after the bartender slides them in front of us.
“So,” I say after taking a sip. “How’re my furry cousins?”
Cillian and Aunt Una don’t have kids of their own, due to them both having nightmarish childhoods. They have three cats instead: Ghost, Diablo, and Bones.
…The names make a lot more sense when you realize that Cillian and Una have a real Gomez and Morticia thing going on. They’re both always all in black and give off a very Prince and Lady of Darkness energy.
He chuckles. “Fur babies are good. Spoiled, obviously, given their mother.”
I grin and shake my head. “How’s my favorite?”
“Bones? His usual prickish self, God bless ‘im.”
I’m a big fan of all three of my cat-cousins. But Bones is my favorite, probably because he’s such a little douchebag. He's also insanely old for a cat, at nearly thirty.
“How is it exactly that he’s still with us? Not that I'm complaining.”
Cillian arches a brow. “Have you met my wife?” He grins. “Witchcraft, obviously.”
He smirks.
“So, are we going to pussyfoot around the subject, or are you going to tell me about the girl who has you all twisted up?”
Goddammit.
My brow furrows. “Who told you?”
He shrugs. “Lochlan, Lochlan, when have you ever known me…good Irish lad that I am…to be a squealer?”
“Bella, right?”
“I plead the fifth, your honor.”
It was totally Bella. She isn’t related to Cil, but her dad, my uncle Hades, is pretty close to him, and at some point that transferred to Cillian and Bella having a close relationship as well.
Maybe it’s that they both love the outdoors so much? They’ve been known to go on these long-ass hikes together or take the occasional camping trip over the years.
But honestly, it’s probably just because they’re both fucking psychos.
“So someone who shall remain nameless told you…what, exactly?”
“That you’ve been at minimum sleeping with one of the students in the class you’ve been TAing.”
I cock a brow. “Is that so?”
He nods and takes a sip of his drink. “I got curious. You know what they say about retirement. Idle hands and all that.”
I frown. “I… Do they say that?”
“Well, I’m saying it,” he shrugs. “So, I looked into this poor professor of yours whose class you took over.” Cillian turns to look at me fully, an amused expression on his face. “Funny thing, his brakes failing like that.”
My jaw tightens.
“Well, I’m just glad he’s getting the help he needs for that nasty alcoholism of his,” My uncle says with a glint in his eyes.
“You implying something here, Cil?”
“What, that my dear great-nephew engineered the removal of the professor he TAs for, so that he could teach the class of a young woman he’s got a bit of thing for?” He snorts. “Why on Earth would I imply that?”
I drum my fingers against the side of my glass.
“You know, scenarios like that remind me of someone…” he murmurs.
I clench my teeth, fighting back the demons inside.
“Whatever Seamus was,” I growl, “I am not—”
“Lochlan.”
Cillian stops me with a slight smirk as he drops a hand to my shoulder.
“I was going to say me, you daft cunt. And congratulations.”
My brow furrows. “For?”
“For your plan to get close to her working,” he laughs.
I nod sullenly as I return to my drink.
“Aha.” Cillian nods slowly. “I see I was right in my concern that you’d manage to fuck it up.”
I shoot him a glare. “Excuse me?”
“Well?” He shrugs and dramatically looks around the bar and under his stool.
“Exactly what are you looking for?”
“Your girlfriend,” he smiles thinly at me. “But, I don’t seem to see her.”
I sigh. “What about her not being in a bar drinking with us at two in the afternoon makes you assume I fucked things up?”
“Nothing. The fact that you immediately went on the defensive and got all worked up about it does, though. So does the fact that your hand has been in a fist ever since I brought this girl up.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, alleged girl.”
I scowl at him. Fuck, you can't get a thing past this guy.
Cillian grins, sighs and claps me on the shoulder. “So: how’d you fuck it up.”
My eyes narrow. “I didn’t—”
“Lochlan…”
I exhale heavily and swear under my breath. “Stalked her, spied on her, generally invaded her privacy and maybe didn’t stop when she asked me to.”
My uncle clucks his tongue against his teeth and nods sagely. “Yep, that’ll do it.” He frowns. “You’ve apologized?”
“Obviously. Multiple times.”
“And she knows how you feel?”
I roll my eyes. “Cil, I just said I’d apologized—”
“I mean does she know how you feel about her?”
“She does.”
My pulse spikes when I feel something sharp pressing to my ribs. I glance down, and my eyes widen at the sight of Cillian’s switchblade, open, slightly digging into me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I hiss under my breath.
“Several things,” he shrugs. “But never mind those. You're avoiding the question. Do you love her?”
“Cillian—”
The blade presses a little harder.
“Yes,” I snap. “I’m fucking in love with her, okay?”
He grins. “Good. And have you told her that?”
My brow furrows. “No,” I finally respond. “I haven’t.”
Cillian sighs as he pulls the blade away, folds it back up, and tucks it into his jacket pocket as I glare at him.
“You’re fucking crazy, Cil. You know that?” I snap.
“Indeed I do,” he grins. “Honestly, I don’t know how people do reality without it.”
I laugh at that, chuckling as I take another sip of whiskey.
“So, to review: she walked away from you, and you haven’t bothered to mention to her the little fact that you happen to be in love with her, because you’d rather act like a right twat. Is that more-or-less correct?”
My brow furrows. “I mean, aside from the twat part, yes. Mostly.”
“Oh, no, the twat part stays,” he chuckles. “Lochlan, why on God's green Earth have you not told this girl you’re in love with her?”
“Because…” I growl. “Because I didn’t before, and I'm not saying it now that she’s gone.”
He frowns. “What?”
“I love you is not super glue or a tool,” I mutter.
He starts to laugh, loudly.
“Thanks for stopping by, Cil,” I grunt, sliding off my stool. “It’s been a blast—”
“Sit the fuck down, boy-o,” he says, grabbing my arm and yanking me back down onto the stool with a strength you wouldn’t expect in a man his age. “There’s more to that saying, you know.”
I frown. “What do you mean that saying?”
“It’s a saying,” he grins. “It’s my saying, which is where your dad heard it first before he stole it like a cheeky little cunt and passed it off as fatherly advice to you.”
When I stare at him in confusion, he sighs heavily and clears his throat.
“Never tell someone you love them unless you truly do. I love you is not super glue. It's not a tool.”
Well, fuck.
Cillian laughs when he sees my brows knit. “Christ! Is that why you haven’t told her?”
“Yes!” I snap. “Saying it now would be using it as a tool to try to—”
“To try and what?” he smirks. “Get her back?”
I nod.
“And you really do love her?”
“Yeah… I fucking do,” I growl tightly.
“So…?” Cillian stares at me incredulously.
“I mean, no, don’t start throwing out the L word because some girl from the pub never texted you back after a snog.
But Jesus fucking Christ, Lochlan, there’s a whole other first part to that sagely advice!
Never tell someone you love them unless you truly do. ”
Shit.
I think I may have fucked up even worse than I thought.
“Is that the sound of lighting striking and you realizing what a silly cunt you’ve been?” he says with a smirk as I drain my drink and stand from my stool abruptly.
“Basically, yeah.”
He smiles and stands as well, clapping me on the back as he gives me a hug.
“Go get her, then.”
“Hey, Cil?”
“You’re welcome.”
This guy. “Thanks.”