Chapter Three
Caity
Three days had passed with no word from my daughter. I didn’t know what to do. What could I say to her? I wasn’t like her. My daughter was strong. She was able to do things I couldn’t, and I was so fucking proud of her.
I sat at the kitchen table with my coffee in my hand and stared out the window. I hated this house. It had been my father’s. I’d told Sal I didn’t want to live here when Maddie and I moved back to Boston, but he’d insisted.
The knock on the door startled me out of my pity party. I stared at the front door for a moment before I finally set the cup down and moved to the front of the house.
I pulled the door open expecting Sal or Cian. Maybe even Mac or Duncan. What I didn’t expect was Freyja. Duncan’s new woman.
“Hi, Caity,” Freyja said in her enthusiastic voice.
“Hi, Freyja. Come in.” I held the door wide, and she swept past me.
As I closed the door, my eyes shut with it, and I laid my head against it briefly. I didn’t know what to expect. And when I turned around, Freyja stood in front of me with her arms open wide. I bit my bottom lip to stop it from trembling. And when I didn’t move, she did.
She gathered me in her arms and held me while I cried.
“Is Maddie staying with you?”
“No. She went home with Cian,” she explained.
I pulled back, shaking my head. “Of course she forgave him.” I moved to the coffeemaker and started another pot.
“There is nothing for her to forgive him for,” Freyja pointed out. “He didn’t know anything more than she did.”
I took a deep breath before spinning around and looking at Freyja. “Why are you here?”
“Because you need someone in your corner.” She shrugged.
“I don’t need someone to remind me of all the ways I screwed up my daughter’s life.”
I turned back to the coffeemaker when she added, “I think you do.”
Freyja removed her coat and sat at the kitchen table, her hands clasped together in front of her. “I’d offer to do a reading, but I don’t think you’d be receptive to it.”
“You’re right,” I snapped.
“Do you have anything to eat?”
I looked at Freyja, my mind trying to comprehend this blunt woman.
“You ran out before Duncan announced it, but I’m pregnant. It seems I’m hungry all the time.”
“Congratulations,” I offered as I opened the fridge and grabbed a bowl of fruit salad I’d made for dinner last night. Being here alone didn’t lend any motivation for cooking.
I set the bowl in front of her and grabbed a fork. She chuckled as she pulled the fruit closer. I hadn’t bothered giving her a small bowl or plate, knowing she’d likely eat the whole thing.
“I was the opposite when I was pregnant with Maddie. I couldn’t eat anything without getting sick,” I told her.
“My sister-in-law was this way as well. She had a son. So maybe I’m having a boy as well.”
“Lucille hasn’t told you?” I snarked.
Freyja smiled, unbothered by my rudeness.
“Nope. She likes to be mysterious. She gives me a little information to prepare me but doesn’t tell me everything.
It’s how I knew there would be a second announcement at dinner the other night.
” Her smile faded, and her eyes looked apologetic.
“Had she told me what would happen, I would have helped prepare you both in some way.”
I sat down at the table and inhaled. “I don’t know how she found out.”
“Someone told her. Someone in the family.”
My eyes snapped up to Freyja. “What?”
“There were multiple men there when Nolan told them the truth about you and Cian. Someone there wanted to sow discord. What better way than to shove a wedge between Sal and one of his best friends?”
“Tyran,” I whispered.
Freyja nodded. “I suspect so,” she added. “He tried it with Duncan by going after Colleen. Now he’s going after Maddie.” Freyja held her hand up when I gasped. “I’ve already told Duncan my thoughts. He assured me that Maddie would be protected.”
“Her father will protect her.” It felt good to say that.
“You love him,” Freyja stated.
“My whole life, it seems.”
“What happened? Why didn’t you marry Cian? How did you end up with Nolan?”
I looked at Freyja. “You know how the Mob works, I’m sure. Women aren’t given much of a choice when it comes to their future. And Cian was never interested.”
“I find that hard to believe,” she said, popping a grape into her mouth.
“Even if he were, he was a soldier. And a low-level one at that. His father wasn’t anyone important. My father never would have given his blessing.”
“And that was important to you?” she asked. Her voice was even—a genuine question.
“It was. My father was an asshole, but I loved him. He’d doted on me as his daughter. I’d always believed he loved me. When he told me I had to marry Nolan, it was the first time I’d experienced the Mob boss and not my dad.”
“I assume Nolan was a terrible husband?”
“Not at first. I mean, he wasn’t great, but he didn’t yell at me or hit me or anything. But he cheated on me. Over and over.”
“So you decided what’s good for the goose...”
“In a way, yes, but it wasn’t my motivation. I was lonely. I wanted to feel wanted. Loved. If even for a night.”
“And Cian?”
I smiled; I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d tried. Anytime I thought of that night, it brought a smile to my face.
“Pure Irish luck. I drove to Connecticut. I knew the city wasn’t safe. Wives weren’t allowed to cheat the way husbands did. I just happened to pick a bar that he was in.”
Freyja stayed and talked with me for a few hours before she finally went home.
And once again, I was alone. I looked around the room.
It wasn’t my style. Everything in this house came from my father.
I hadn’t planned on staying here, so I never bothered to redecorate, but maybe it was time I fixed that.
I went to the kitchen and searched for the trash bags. I’d already called Lorcan, my cousin on my mother’s side, and asked him to bring me some boxes. It was time I started living for myself.
Knowing how the men in this family worked, it wasn’t long before my brother was pounding on my door. I looked up from what I was doing and stared at the door. Two shadows could be seen through the curtains, and I sighed. Pulling it open, I was surprised to see Mac with Sal and not Cian.
“Can I help you?”
“What do you need fuckin’ boxes for?”
I rolled my eyes and turned my back on my brother, returning to my post by the bookshelf.
“I’m cleaning out this house. If I have to live here, then I’m going to make it mine.”
“What are you talking about, Caity?”
I looked up at my brother. “Everything in this house was his, Sal. I don’t want it. I’m going to box it all up, and then the guys can come take it away. You can go through it and take what you want, or you can donate it.”
“Throw it in the fuckin’ trash,” he snapped.
“No, it will be donated. Everything here is in perfect condition. It’s like a fuckin’ museum. He’s been dead for over twenty years, Sal, so why did you never take care of this?”
My brother rubbed the back of his neck, while Mac moved into the kitchen, giving us some privacy. Sal didn’t answer my question; instead, he moved around the room peeking into boxes.
“Do you want to move somewhere else?”
I stared at my brother. He insisted I move into my father’s house, and now that I wanted to make it my own, he wanted me to leave? It didn’t make sense.
“What is going on with you?”
“Nothing. I just don’t think you should bother with this shit.”
“Why didn’t you do it, Sal? Why has this house been sitting empty all this time? What don’t I know?”
“Nothing. I just don’t see the point in digging shit up.”
“You’re afraid I’ll find something, aren’t you?”
Sal stared at me. It was the look he gave his men when he wanted them to do his bidding. A look that terrified them. But he didn’t scare me. I knew he’d never hurt me.
“There’s nothin’ to fuckin’ find.”
“Then what’s the problem?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
“There’s no fuckin’ problem. I offered to get you a new place. One you could make your own. If you want to do all this fuckin’ work, have at it.” He waved his hand around the room as if he were exasperated with me. Like I had done something to annoy him on purpose.
He was hiding something from me. What was supposed to be a simple house cleanout had now become a scavenger hunt. There was a reason my brother left this house like a shrine. And I planned to find out what it was.
“Fine. Now if you’re done bothering me, I have work to do.” I turned away from him and heard him huff as he walked out. Mac stopped at the door and turned to me.
“He loves you, Caity.”
“I know, but he drives me fuckin’ crazy.” I waved my hand around the room. “This shit is all just stuff.”
“I ain’t talking about your brother, and you know it. Talk to him.”
I dropped my head back and looked at the ceiling. “I can’t, Mac. I’m not ready.”
“He won’t wait forever, Caity.”
I nodded, and Mac walked out the door, closing it behind him. I couldn’t think about Cian right now. I couldn’t let my mind get distracted by what I couldn’t have.
I left what I was doing and walked down the hall to my father’s office. The door was locked, and I hadn’t bothered with it since moving in. There was no reason for me to go in there.
Until now.
I rushed into my bathroom and grabbed some hairpins. Kneeling on the floor, I picked the lock and turned the knob. As the door swung open, I stayed on my knees, seeing the room the same way I did as a child. Remembering every sound, every smell, every memory of my father in this room.
I hadn’t been in here since he died.
Since my brother had killed him.
I knew why he did it. I knew my father deserved it after what we’d found out. But it still fucking hurt. I still missed him despite the bastard that he was.
I stared at his desk. Papers still lay spread out. An empty glass I imagined filled with whiskey still sat on the corner. It was like he’d just gone to a meeting.
Why hadn’t Sal cleaned this out? Why was it all still here? What was my brother afraid of finding?
I reached around the door and twisted the lock. Pulling it closed, I sat on my ass and leaned against the wall beside the entrance. I wasn’t ready either. Twenty-four years had passed, and I still wasn’t ready to say goodbye to my father.
I pulled my knees up and laid my forehead against them. And I cried. For the little girl who missed her father, and for the young woman who was still so fucking angry that he’d mapped out her life without any input from her.
And I cried at the loss of the life I could have had. The one I still couldn’t grasp onto because of the mistakes I’d made. And there were many. Sleeping with Cian and keeping his daughter from him were only two of the many mistakes I’d made over the years.
Choices I’d made in my selfishness.
Choices I’d made to make my life easier without any regard to anyone else.
Choices that were still hurting the people I loved.