Chapter 25
REGAN
He didn’t come home again.
I shouldn’t be surprised. This is what Liam does:
He shows up, makes me feel things I don’t want to feel, and disappears for hours or days at a time.
I know there’s a war going on. This is a bad time for the Whelan family, and I should be happy that he keeps coming back at all.
And I shouldn’t care if he’s not around.
I mean, what are we anyway? He’s some guy I married, that’s all.
Neither of us wanted it. Sure, we have sex, and when he sticks around it’s not all that bad.
He’s funny when he wants to be, charming even, caring, gentle, attractive as hell, a little scary but in a good way, and what does that all get me?
Absolutely fucking nowhere, that’s where.
So what if my stomach churns with butterflies?
Those are meaningless feelings. They’re pale and stupid in the face of the actual truth: Liam’s a bastard, and I like him.
I find myself at that diner again, not even sure why. Hal’s working and she ushers me into her section with a comforting smile and a gesture toward an empty booth. I park myself, scan the menu glumly, order coffee, ask for pancakes, and lean my head against the window.
What the hell do I want? That’s the question I keep circling back toward like I’m a clockwork soldier with a single working leg, marching endlessly in an ugly oval. Do I want Liam for real? Do I want to be his wife? Build something with him? Or do I want to survive for a while?
I watch the door, thinking he’ll come through any second, drinking coffee, prodding at pancakes, until he does.
I have to do a double take, thinking he’s a figment of my overtired imagination, but it’s definitely him in jeans and a camo sweatshirt, looking like a total stranger, still handsome as all hell, but not his usual sleek self.
He greets Hal, who betrays me and points me out.
He comes over, his usual smile missing, and slides into the booth across from me.
I say nothing. He reaches out and takes one of my pancakes.
“I was still eating that.”
“Sorry. Want it back?”
Hal brings him coffee and disappears.
“What are you doing here, Liam?”
“Finding you.” He hunches over the mug. Black bags hang under his eyes.
“You look bad. Where have you been?”
“I was out all night thinking.”
“Must’ve been hard work.”
The look he gives me makes my core pulse. “You have no idea, love,” he says, his voice whispery soft. “We need to talk.”
I wait, not liking this at all. Something feels supremely wrong. “What did you do last night, Liam?”
I know better than to ask, but the way his mouth flinches makes me sure I’m about to hear something terrible.
“I’m going to tell you a truth. You’re not going to like it, but believe me, I wouldn’t be saying this if it weren’t important.”
“Is that why you didn’t come home yesterday? And why you’re dressed like you own at least two trucks and several assault rifles?”
He cradles his mug wearily. “I met with Kieren last night.”
My body freezes. It’s bizarre because my mind’s still working. I can see myself from a distance, like I’m floating at the ceiling: I’m trapped, frozen like an animal fearing for its life. I force myself to talk like I’m working a marionette’s strings.
“Why did you meet with Kieren?”
“I lured him to a bar, punched him in the mouth a few times, shot him in the hand, and threatened to kill him.”
I knock over my coffee when I jolt up straight. Cursing, I blot it with napkins, before a nonplussed Hal appears with a rag to get the remainder. “No worries, no worries, happens all the time, this one has that effect on people…”
When she’s gone, I gather myself. “I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt him.”
“I said I wouldn’t kill him, but I needed him to answer a question. Do you know what I asked?”
I close my eyes. I don’t want to know. I feel pieces swirling around me, moments that felt strange at the time but I was able to rationalize away.
Little inconsistencies I’ve been able to force together into a pleasing shape, a very pretty picture, ultimately a fabrication, a stupid lie to keep myself happy.
I’ve been doing it all my life, to some degree, figuring out calming tall tales to explain away all the awful shit I’ve seen and been through.
“You asked him how he stole from my father.”
“That’s right.” He doesn’t sound surprised that I knew. My stomach is sick. I might barf pancake all over the table. “He told me someone helped him. Regan, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m telling you first, before anyone else, because you need to know.”
My mouth falls open, heart hammering like a power drill. My fingernails dig into the table. “Who was it? Tell me, Liam.”
“I’m sorry. It was Luke.”
I sit back against the booth, fists banging against the table. A nice older lady sitting nearby looks over, wrinkled face concerned. It takes a lot of effort not to groan in rage as I shake my head, willing this to go away.
“You’re lying.”
“I don’t do that, Regan. I’m sorry, I wish this weren’t true—“
“Then Kieren was lying. Luke wouldn’t do that. We’re his family, he wouldn’t steal from his own father and give that information over to his enemies. That makes no sense. Why would he—“
“I didn’t get into the motives, but he wasn’t lying.”
“You’re wrong.” I shove myself from the booth, trembling, and I watch Liam change. I see it happen, the way he hardens himself, his soft worry bleeding out and leaving behind a cold, ugly husk.
His jaw ticks. “I know it’s hard and I know it hurts, but you have to face reality, Regan. Your brother betrayed you. I’m coming to you first because—“
“I don’t care why!” I’m talking too loud. Now half the diner is watching. Hal’s drifting closer, I think to tell us to shut the fuck up, but I don’t care. I’m too hurt, too broken, and none of this makes sense.
My life was perfect, I had Kieren, the business, my brother, it was all perfect, perfect and now—
Now there’s Liam, destroying it.
“You have to face this,” he says sharply. “Come on, you’re strong. You can handle it. Whatever’s going to happen, I came to you first. We can figure it out, we can do it together—“
“I don’t want to do anything with you, Liam. Leave me the fuck alone.”
“Regan—“
“No! No, get away.” I take a staggering half step backwards. “We’re done. Do you hear me? I’m done with this. Luke didn’t—he wouldn’t—I can’t—“
“He did.” Liam’s tone is cold and dead. His face is hard. “You can’t live in denial forever.’
I get out of there. Hal tries to talk to me, but I blow past her. I don’t even know what I’d say: sorry about that scene, but my husband accused my brother of treason against our crime family and now I’m pretty sure he’s going to die, it’s all fucked up, won’t happen again??
I burst onto the sidewalk, gasping for air, and I’m moving before I have time to think.
It’s hard to see as I order an Uber. The driver doesn’t speak as he takes me across town.
I’m hugging myself, memories swirling and slamming against each other, but I keep coming back to Liam’s cold, dead face, the harsh gleam in his eye like I was being a hysterical moron.
I taste bile and metal in my throat, and I want to scream.
My father’s in his office. His secretary tries to stop me but I push past her and slam open the door. He glances up, brow furrowed, the phone crooked against shoulder and ear as he’s typing on his computer. “I’ll call you back,” he says, eyes narrowing at me as he hangs up. “Regan? What are you—“
“It was Luke,” I say, the words coming out like blood from a wound. Dad’s eyes flit past me and he waves dismissively. I hear the door shut again.
“What was Luke?” he says, calmly, like he’s talking to a child having a temper tantrum.
“The files Kieren took. There was no way he had access to all that data, remember? It felt wrong from the beginning, like how would Kieren even know where to look?”
“I assumed he got it from you. Perhaps you left open an email, or he was looking over your shoulder—“
“No, absolutely not. I was always careful when it came to the company’s books. I knew, Dad, I’ve always known how crooked this damn place is, and I wasn’t that stupid. You trusted Kieren, but I didn’t trust anyone.”
“This place isn’t crooked, Regan. I think you need to take some time off. Get yourself together. Spend a few days with your new husband—“
“No, stop it, don’t dismiss me. It was Luke, Dad, Luke’s the one who told Kieren where to look, Luke’s the one who stabbed us in the back.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m not fucking wrong! Liam told me, Kieren admitted it!”
“Then I would’ve heard this from someone else. The Whelans—“
“Are you that dense? I’m telling you the truth, and all you can say is you’d believe it if it were coming from someone else?”
Dad’s hands come down hard on the desk. The phone rattles from its cradle and falls to the floor. “My son would not do something like that, do you hear me, Regan? You’re being hysterical and I want you to stop.”
My jaw opens in astonishment.
I shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. What did I expect? My father to suddenly take me seriously as a person? He’s been belittling me for as long as I can remember. Why would he change?
No, it isn’t him that’s different—
I’m the one who grew up.
Now I see it so clearly it hurts. All the ways I’ve been like my father, or at least the ways I’ve molded myself into the image he wanted to see. The perfect daughter, hiding behind her flawless facade, staying safe and happy and never once taking a single risk that might actually fulfill me.
Until I met Liam.
That night standing near Kieren’s car changed everything. It showed me I didn’t have to be the perfect daughter, the ideal mafia princess, keeping her mouth shut and carrying on the family’s secrets for her tyrant father.
I could be more than that.
I could be my own person.
The truth lands hard, all the ways I’ve failed. I wanted to save Luke from this life while also forcing myself into a little box. How was he supposed to find his way free of this if I couldn’t even do it for myself?
I’ve been so stupid and blind.
“You are wrong, Dad. You’re wrong and you’re going to get your son killed because you can’t see it.”
“How dare you talk back to me?”
“You’re a stubborn, stupid old man, and you’re going to ruin everything. I can’t believe I didn’t say this sooner, but you’re a petty little tyrant and I’m not going to take it anymore.”
Dad’s face turns red with anger. I’ve never seen him so pissed before. I’m terrified, trembling, despite knowing for certain that I’m doing the right thing. Still, years of conditioning taught me to be very, very scared of my father when he’s in a bad mood.
“Get out of my house,” he says softly, voice quaking with barely restrained anger. “Turn and walk out of here right now, Regan, and don’t you dare come back. If I see you in here again, I swear on my life, I will teach you the lesson I should’ve taught you a long time ago.”
“You wouldn’t dare touch me. You know why? Because you sold me to the Whelans. You don’t own me anymore. You think Liam’s going to let you hurt his wife?”
“Fuck Liam. And fuck you too, you selfish little bitch. You’re not my daughter. You’re nothing to me now.”
“At least we can agree on that.”
I stride to the door. Tears stream down my face, but I’m not crying for this relationship I’m torching.
I’m crying for Luke, for how I set the wrong example for him all these years.
I wanted him to escape, but instead, I showed him an older sister who was too afraid to do anything but obey.
I failed him so miserably, it kills me.
Dad’s rage follows me into the hall. I can still hear him shouting as I get another Uber out front. The driver drops me off in front of Luke’s apartment building, but I already know what I’ll find when I use the spare key he gave me years back to let myself into his place.
It’s been ransacked.
The couch is torn to pieces. Dishes lay shattered on the ground. His bedroom is a total wreck, clothes strewn around. It looks like someone thoroughly flipped it already, and I can’t tell who.
There’s no blood. That’s good, at least.
But Luke’s not here. He’s gone, and I don’t know where he could have possibly vanished to.
I feel empty, drained and wrung out like a dirty sponge.
I collapse to my knees in my brother’s living room, not sure why he’d turn his back on our family like this, wondering what he was thinking when he decided to throw his life away, but desperate to find him. Maybe, somehow, I can still help him.
Or maybe we’re all beyond saving.