Chapter 18 Colby
COLBY
I startle awake with a sense of urgency and see Eian sitting on my bed, looking at me with so much doubt and . . . well, fuck, heartbreak on his face that I can’t stop from throwing myself at him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly with my arms around him. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Together we can figure out anything.” I know it.
“I didn’t know if you felt that way when you went to sleep.” His soft, gravelly voice right by my ear wraps me in that sense of safety I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of.
“I was just . . . overwhelmed,” I confess.
“I needed silence to, like, process. I’ll still need more time probably, but at least now I can see you were right.
Before. Trying to find out what that whole thing was about would be stupider than following those Italian goons.
” I chuckle and draw back. In the almost complete darkness of the room he seems even more intimidating than normal, but I’m not scared of him.
“I’m mostly wondering what’s going to happen next, you know?
I know we need to be careful, but I still can’t let it go completely. Does that piss you off?”
“No.” He cups my cheek. “It makes perfect sense to me, sweet Colby.”
“I love when you call me that,” I admit.
He chuckles lightly, and I really fucking love the way his face transforms when he’s genuinely happy.
“I only do it when you are sweet, because most of the time you’re full of that snark.”
“You love it,” I mumble.
“Yes.” He leans in slowly, dragging the moment out so long I’m about to pull him down with me, but when his lips finally connect with mine, I sigh into the kiss.
It’s so stupid to be relieved to feel him like this again, but since we got out of that house, since we made it out alive, I am. I know there’s always going to be something I can’t figure out, a truth I can’t unearth.
But I know the truth in his eyes when he pulls back and in the darkness makes me feel like I’m full of sunshine and warmth.
“I love it, Colby. I love you. That’s never going to change.”
For some reason, those are the magic words.
“It’s been so fast, but . . . intense.” I have to swallow hard to push through the nerves, through the fear of what I’ll think of myself after this. “I don’t know how, Eian. I don’t understand how you love me, why you love me.”
“I don’t either, Colby. It’s not something I chose, not at first. I didn’t make a decision or set out to fall in love with you, but I do want to choose to keep loving you every day.
Even if you give me a million heart attacks by being so reckless, I can promise you I’ll be happy to do everything in my power to keep you safe regardless. ”
God, that’s so . . . perfect. My eyes fill up with glorious tears. A watery laugh escapes me as I reach up to hold his neck. I feel his steady heartbeat under my palm and marvel at how he’s looking at me for a long time.
That look, right there, so full of acceptance and . . . devotion.
I never thought I’d find it. For a long time I never thought I deserved it. Now I have it, if I can accept and embrace the fact that it’s coming from a criminal, from a mafia boss . . .
No need for that, I realize.
“I love you,” I whisper.
I already accepted it.
Eian’s body deflates as he falls into me.
My back hits the mattress hard, but who gives a fuck?
He tucks his face under my chin in the most heart-melting way, and I should’ve realized, I suppose, that this moment couldn’t just stretch on forever, because sooner than I’m ready for, he sits back up and nods as if incredibly pleased.
“Now put some clothes on. I need you to come down to my office.”
There’s a big part of me that adores how not boring my life has gotten.
“So this seriously couldn’t wait for the morning?” I ask Eian as we walk down the stairs.
What I want to ask is why we couldn’t even spare time for a quicky before doing . . . whatever it is we’re doing.
“No.” He shakes his head and even snorts.
One good thing about being awake at this ungodly hour, Eian hasn’t been able to stop smiling since I told him I love him.
I kinda feel invincible.
That is until I see the woman—girl—standing next to Rory in the foyer.
“Uhh.” I stall for a moment. This can’t be right.
“Come on, Colby,” Eian urges me and pulls me by the hand.
“Rory, why don’t you come in too for a minute.”
Rory looks murderous, like actually really very fucking angry.
“Are you finally going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“Part of it, yes,” Eian tells her, and even though I know they’ve known each other forever, I’m still impressed by how normal he sounds when faced with that Rory. “Come on, Iris.”
There is . . . familiarity in his tone, and that’s just wrong.
Iris Crawford can’t even be twenty-four. How the hell does this socialite know Eian? How does he know her?
With Eian’s hand on my lower back guiding me, I follow them both into his office and—
“Yeah, nope.” I spin on my heel. “I’m just going back to sleep.”
“Please don’t,” Harrison fucking Crawford says. He’s speaking. To me. That’s not—it can’t—“It’s been a long enough night already.”
Eian takes me by the shoulders, leans down with that same happy smile that will apparently never leave his face no matter what danger we’re facing, then spins me right back around.
“So we’re telling her?” Harrison asks, looking at Eian but pointing at Rory.
“Just about Nan.”
That has me standing on alert.
“Okay, then. Close the door and everybody sit. Damn, I’d kill for some coffee.”
“Actually, why don’t I go make us all some coffee while you explain it to them?” Eian’s too fast and escapes before I can kick him in the shin for leaving me here.
Harrison’s rolling his eyes when I look at him again, but then nods at Rory and me.
“Seriously, sit. This might take a while.”
“Understatement,” Iris mutters.
I’m faster than Rory and walk right to one of the chairs in front of the desk while she stares at Harrison like he’s a puzzle she just can’t figure out—and I can’t blame her. But eventually she sits as well. Right next to Harrison.
“Want me to do it, Dad?” Iris asks when he still doesn’t talk.
“No, it’s fine. I’m just waiting for Aurora here to absorb the fact that Eian trusts me so she can stop sending me that death glare.”
“Rory,” she says, her face transforming so swiftly no one who witnessed it would have any doubt her affable smile is fake as fuck. “Please call me Rory.”
My mouth drops a little at Harrison’s inelegant snort.
Harrison is . . . well . . . elegant, poised, powerful, contained.
I’ve never seen him relax in public, except when he’s with his husband or cheering for his football team, the New York Kings.
“All right, Rory. Let me tell you about a young Irish girl. She lived a pretty normal life. Her family was tough but she walked the line well. Her brother not so much. When that brother killed the man who was about to rape her, he was accused and ran away.” He’s definitely having fun telling this story but I’m still riveted.
“Years later, she decided to go looking for her brother in New York where he had told her he’d always dreamed of going.
She found him easily, since in those few years he’d taken control of the Irish mob and gotten married.
“Thrilled to be reunited with his little sister, the brother convinced her to stay in the city, but he didn’t want her to be a part of the mob, so he encouraged her to find her passion, to study.
One day, while she was visiting Columbia, she stumbled into a man, and the way she tells it, he fell at her knees, in love with her in a millisecond. ”
His smile—and Iris’s eyes, I realize when I turn to look, are sentimental and full of loving amusement.
“That woman was Nan, and the man she fell in love with was my father. So, Rory, if nothing I say will make you trust me, maybe knowing you’ve been having dinner with my ma almost every week for the past thirty-plus years will put you at ease.”
“Holy shit,” I whisper, unable to swallow down my reaction.
“I know, right?” Iris’s voice is right next to me, and I jump a little then laugh at myself. “She already loves you by the way, and can’t wait to meet the father of that precious angel, Maggie.” She mimics what I guess is her . . . grandmother? Yes, her grandmother’s accent.
“She’s also plain curious about what kind of man would make Eian fall in love.” Harrison’s tone is almost childish, like a middle-school kid making fun of his friend for having a crush.
I blush and feel stupidly embarrassed over it.
“I’m just . . . normal,” I mumble.
To my surprise, it’s Rory who snorts then.
“You’re anything but normal, Colby. And that’s coming from me.”
“Uncle Eian has told me a lot about you,” Iris says then, and when I look I see she’s talking to Rory. “He really does love you like a little sister, you know? Wants me to be like you—well,” she amends with a musical chuckle. “A bit less murderous, but you know . . . powerful.”
“And Bran brags about you too,” Harrison says softly. “I hope you won’t hold it against Eian, that we got to meet Bran before we met you.”
“What?” Rory asks, like that’s insane. “He’s your . . . well, not exactly your nephew, but close enough. I’m glad he has you.” She nods once, though her face is blank. I can tell it’s her face now. She’s not putting on a show.
“And he feels guilty about not telling you or Duffy.” Iris smiles softly at Rory.
“Man, I can’t wait to meet Duffy,” Harrison says, and he really does look excited.
“He’s going to ask you to buy him a car or a chopper,” Rory tells Harrison very seriously. “But you won’t.”
His mouth twitches with amusement, but he clearly tries to rein it in.
“I won’t.”
“Good.” Rory nods once, then stands. Done, apparently, with this meeting.
How in the hell she manages not to ask any questions, I honestly don’t know, but maybe it’s because she wasn’t inside Brent’s house. She doesn’t know Harrison was there.