Chapter Twenty-Two
Rian
“Are we going to talk about the fact that the doctor is still alive?” Conan asks, leaning against the arm of the couch in my living room. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s given me twenty-four hours before bringing it up.
He has every right to be upset. I would be irate with him if the situation were reversed…and the doctor would probably have already been dead. It is my job to protect this family, after all, but then, why didn’t I do that with Abbott?
“You saw him?” I ask, teeth gritting, hands opening and closing again into tight fists. Conan didn’t hurt him. I would have known if he had, and we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation right now, but the fury filling me is almost too much to contain.
He saw him, and I didn’t.
My closest friend wants to kill the man I…well, I don’t know what I feel when it comes to Abbott, but I do know he’s mine, and it’s my instinct to protect what belongs to me.
“No. I haven’t seen him, but I know you, Rian, and the way you came home yesterday tells me everything I need to know.”
I shove away from the wall, arm pressed against Conan’s throat, pushing him back against another wall. He stands there, eyes cold and angry, but doesn’t move, doesn’t try to fight me off, just stares at me in the detached way he’s able to do, which looks like he doesn’t feel as much as he does.
The truth is, Conan feels more than most of us.
“Don’t. Touch. Him,” I spit out before shoving away from him. “Don’t go into his house. He’s to be left alone. If anyone touches him, they have me to deal with.” I hold his gaze longer and add, “It doesn’t matter who it is.”
Conan stands up straighter, runs a hand down his shirt as though he’s trying to smooth it, then raises a brow. “He’s yours?”
The word yes is right there on my tongue, but I can’t push it off. He is mine. I know it and Conan knows it, but how do I wrap my head around that fact? I never thought anyone would be mine again.
Conan tries again, this time from a different angle. “He could ruin it all.”
“He won’t.”
“He could.”
“Fuck. I know. You don’t think I know that?
” I tried so hard to do it. When I brought him to the woods—hell, up until the second I turned and snuck away—I’d thought I would do it.
I was supposed to, and the fact that I couldn’t shows a huge fucking weakness that I’m not supposed to have.
But he just knelt there, waiting for me to take his life, sacrificing himself. Not even trying to get away.
All I could think about was the taste of him, how it felt to be inside of him, the loneliness we both carry even when we’re in a room filled with people. I feel him in a way I’ve never felt anyone else, and I still don’t know what to do with that.
“He won’t,” I finally say again. “At least not you, Cillian, or anyone else. He wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh, so we’re just supposed to sacrifice you? Let him roam the streets until he decides the dick he got wasn’t enough to keep this secret, and he tells them everything he knows about you?”
I roll my eyes. “Like the cops don’t already know everything we do.”
“Yes, but we’re not supposed to make it easier for them to put us away.”
Jesus, every single thing I’ve done since seeing Abbott is fucked up. I’m not acting like myself, yet I don’t know how to stop it. All I know is if anyone lays a hand on him, I will kill them myself.
“Rian,” Conan says as I sit down on the couch. He sighs, walks over, and takes the cushion beside me. “Bring him home with you. At least we can keep an eye on him better.”
“So, instead of being locked away in New Hampshire, I do the same thing here?”
“If you’re determined to keep him, yes. It’s the safest way.”
He’s right, but I also can’t do that to him.
I can’t force Abbott to come here, to be with me, and what, leave everything else behind?
This lifestyle would only hurt him the same way it had Moira.
She stayed because she loved me, she wanted to help take care of the kids, and Fia was her best friend.
She stayed for us, but she sacrificed things she thought were right or wrong.
“You haven’t been like this with anyone. Not since Moira,” Conan says, as though I don’t know it.
“Part of me feels guilty…like I should never want anyone again, but it’s clearly not guilty enough for me to stop.”
“She would want this for you. If he’s worthy of you, she would want it. I don’t trust him though, and I’m afraid of you getting hurt.”
“We can trust him,” I say, hoping, praying for the first time in too long, that I’m right.
“If we can’t…you know what has to be done. I don’t care if you kill me for it afterward.”
That is why I’ll always trust Conan. He’s honest, even when he’s being brutal. The only time he’s ever lied to me was about Sloan, and that was for Fia.
And the truth is, he’s right. “I won’t let him hurt Cillian.” My son will always come first.
“I know,” Conan replies.
I rub my forehead, then sit back, ignoring the ache in my shoulder. “I want those brothers dead, Conan. Why can’t we find them? I thought we were close.”
“I thought we were too,” he says. “We’ll get it done, though. I promise you. And it’s good that you’re back. We want to make sure everyone in Boston knows that Rian O’Shea doesn’t run.”
No. No, he fucking doesn’t. “I’m in the mood for a little carnage,” I say. Maybe that’s what I need. Maybe getting back to my life will help me get over Abbott and whatever it is he’s done to me.
Conan smiles. “Now you sound like Rory.”
I chuckle. “Well, he is like a son to me.”
Conan laughs too. It feels good to be back here, with him. Yes. Getting into my life again will make everything easier. I won’t want Abbott anymore, and next time, if it comes down to it, I’ll be able to do what needs to be done.
“I need to go to Paradise.” Conan stands. “I’m going to be watching him. You know that, right, Rian? I won’t move on him because I respect you too much as a boss and a friend, but I’m watching him, and I don’t trust him.”
I can’t stop my hands from tightening into fists again.
Hearing anyone, even my friend, say he doesn’t trust Abbott and knowing that he’ll move on him if he thinks he needs to, makes all my protective instincts flare to life—makes me want to eliminate the threat.
But the threat is someone I love and someone who I logically know is doing the right thing.
My head is a fucking mess, and I don’t like it.
“I have final say. I told you I’ll do what needs to be done.”
He nods. “No offense, but you said that before I left the cabin. I trust you, Rian, but be smart. Get your head on straight, figure out what the hell you want from that man and make it happen.” Silently, Conan turns and walks out of the house, the door not making a sound behind him.
“Fuck.” I rub a hand over my face.
I need to get back to my normalcy, to forget I ever dragged Abbott into my life, but how can I when I also need to keep an eye on him to make sure my family stays safe?
Does it really matter if I watch that stupid fucking dot on the app so we’ll know if he goes to the police station?
Conan’s contacts will let us know the second our names are so much as whispered about anything.
I do my best to push thoughts of him out of my head.
The O’Shea family has our hands in many things, making sure we have a legal front for the money we’re pulling in. One of those is real estate, which has always been an unexpected passion of mine.
We keep an office downtown, so I head there and spend a few hours getting some work done.
It’s easy to hide money in things like this, and it’s also just another way for our family to put money into our pockets.
We do both residential and commercial real estate, but most of the money comes from commercial.
I search listings in Boston that would fit what I’m looking for. I want it to be the most beautiful, state-of-the-art concert hall in Massachusetts, to bring music to the city—and yes, launder money too, but no one is perfect.
It does its job, keeping me busy for a while, and puts me out and about around Boston, making sure that my enemies know I’m not hiding away in fear.
Finally, I return home, to the large two-story, that’s now filled with more memories than people—just this big, quiet space where Cillian, Rory, Aislin, and Tiernan played as children, where they laughed and cursed and got into trouble.
Where Cillian and Moira played piano, which they loved doing together so much.
I’m standing in my quiet living room, glass of bourbon in hand, when I realize that I miss the sound of my son’s voice. I haven’t spoken with him since they left for college.
Call him. Take a risk. That’s what Abbott said I should do.
I down the brown liquid from my glass in two gulps, then pull out my phone and take a chance. If I want our relationship to improve, these are the kinds of things I need to do more often.
Cillian answers on the second ring. “What’s wrong?” he asks, deep panic in his voice. How sad is it that his first thought is to think something is wrong?
“Nothing. I just…” Say it. That’s the whole point.
It’s shocking how the pain of losing Moira had locked me up so tightly, had taught me to keep my feelings buried deep to feel safe, but all that did was hurt my son…
hurt me. I’m so fucking tired of everything hurting.
I’m the one who ruined our relationship, and it’s on me to continue to be the one to fix it.
“I just wanted to hear your voice,” I tell him, and hear nothing but the sound of his breathing in return.
It stretches so long between us, I don’t think he’s ever going to answer until he says, “Oh. You’re sure everything is okay?”
“Yes. I’m back home now.”
“Good…so…your gunshot is still doing okay?”
I smile. “Yeah. I had a good doctor,” slips out, flashes of Abbott bouncing around in my head.
“You sound weird.”
Yeah, well, I feel weird, but he doesn’t need to know that. I don’t know how such a short time away changed everything about me, but then, I guess I do know how, and the answer is Abbott. “I promise, I’m okay. How are classes going? How’s Ollie?”
There’s another pause, this one shorter than the others, before Cillian replies. First, he talks about Ollie. “He’s tutoring this semester. He’s so fucking smart. He’s good about keeping Rory on track, though. We’ve been trying to, like…have Sundays as our day or whatever.”
I smile. “That’s good. It’s important to make sure you have set time to spend with your partner. I wasn’t always the best at that.” But Cillian is. No matter what, my son is and will always be a better man than I am, and that means something to me.
“I know,” he says, but then adds, “You tried though…more than others. She knew. She always knew how much you loved her.”
My pulse is like a loud bass in my ear, making it hard to hear him, but I know he said what I think he did. “Thank you. That means a lot to hear…even if I don’t deserve it. You’re better with Ollie.”
“I try to be. I don’t want to fuck it up, ya know?”
“I know,” I reply. “And you won’t.”
“Can I ask you something?” Cillian says after a moment.
“You can ask me anything.”
“T said you were at our house in New Hampshire. Why did you go there?”
I drop my head back, squeezing my eyes shut.
I should have expected this question, but the truth is, I don’t know how to respond.
Why did I bring Abbott, a man I didn’t know, to a place I hold so dear to me?
A place I shared with Moira and my son? It’s fucked when you think about it—that I fucked him there, this man who made me remember what it’s like to want someone, to crave them again.
Maybe I had to do it there. Maybe that’s the only place that could open me up—all my emotions too sharp and powerful there.
“Dad?” he asks, after a moment.
Dad. How ridiculous is it that the name makes me want to cheer? “I’m here. I’m just trying to figure out how to answer,” I say honestly. “I don’t know why I went there, really. It just felt right.”
“Okay,” he says. “Something is different.”
I am different.
I feel more like me. “I’m good, son. Just trying to figure some things out.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
I smile at his response, glad I called, glad I did what Abbott said I should try to do. “I will. I love you.”
“I…love you too, Dad.”
We end the call, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
I wish I could tell Abbott, but instead, I pull up the monitoring app and watch the flashing dot. That’s all I have.