Chapter Twenty-Nine
Alannah
I stand on the quay and watch Grandda’s car pull away with Ronin in the back.
The same thought keeps coming back: what would have happened if they hadn’t found me in time?
If the boat had left the harbour with me on it.
If Uncle Conor and Declan hadn’t come through that cabin door when they did.
The wind cuts in off the water, cold and bitter.
All I can do is watch the red taillights grow smaller, taking him farther away.
Who was that?
I’ve never seen Ronin like that before. Angry, yes.
Proud. Cold. Cruel, even. But not like that.
Not wild-eyed and desperate, dragging me across the snow with his hand over my mouth, talking like I still belonged to him after everything he’d done.
I loved him for years, and even now, part of me can’t make that man fit with the one I thought I knew.
A hand touches my shoulder, and I startle. “Sorry, Lannie,” Declan says quietly. When I look up, his face is pale, his jaw tight. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
The drive home is quiet. I keep my eyes on the road, my thumb moving over the bracelet at my wrist without me even realizing it.
Declan says nothing beside me. When he stops outside the house, the windows are lit and I can see people moving inside.
My whole family, probably worried sick by now.
Declan comes around and opens my door. “Best get in before Grandmam comes out after us,” he says, offering me his hand.
The house is warm when Declan brings me in, bright with firelight and too many voices at once.
Aunt Maeve is at the stove, and Róisín is pushing back from the table the second she sees me.
She takes my arm from Declan and guides me into a chair.
Then Grandmam is there, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before setting a cup of tea in front of me.
I don’t know how long I sit there staring down at my tea before I remember Finn. Where is he? Panic rushes through me, and I stand too quickly. The room tips, and Róisín catches my elbow before I can stumble. “Finn,” I manage, turning to her. “Is he all right?”
“Aye.” She guides me back into the chair, keeping a hand on my arm.
“I spoke with Catríona. She said he’s a bit battered, but he’s all right.
He insisted on seeing you, so she’s bringing him over now.
” A tired little smile touches her mouth.
“Though with the way Catríona drives, he may be regretting that decision by now.”
The breath I didn’t know I was holding leaves me in a rush, and I sag back into the chair. Róisín slips an arm around my shoulders. “He’s all right,” she says again, close to my ear. “He’ll be here soon.”
Grandmam sets a bowl of stew in front of me and nudges it closer. “Eat, pet,” she says. “Just a bit.”
My stomach turns, but I manage a few spoonfuls so Grandmam won’t fuss.
I’ve just set the spoon down when the back door opens.
Before I can look up, Catríona’s arms come around me from behind, squeezing tight, and every ache from being grabbed and hauled around by Ronin makes itself known at once. I hiss in pain.
“Easy, easy,” Catríona murmurs, and the pressure eases as she lets me go. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” She comes around and sits beside me. “Sorry it took us a bit. Finn’s an awful nagger any time I’m behind the wheel.”
“I’m not a nagger,” Finn says, and when I look over, he drops into the chair across from me. “You’re a terror behind the wheel.”
Catríona sniffs. “And yet you’re alive.”
That’s when I really look at him. A square of gauze is taped over his temple, bruising already spreading around it and down the side of his face. My stomach twists. “Finn…” I swallow. “Are you all right?”
He gives me a small shrug and winces before he can hide it. “Dr. Murphy says I’ve a thick skull,” he says, trying for a grin. “Only needed seven stitches. Says I’ll be grand in a day or two.”
I want to believe him, but he looks awful.
“Lannie, I’m fine,” Finn says softly. “Are you?”
I nod because what else can I do? My throat feels too tight for words.
The conversation picks up around me again, but I stop trying to follow it. I prop my elbow on the table and rest my cheek in my hand, my eyes starting to close no matter how hard I try to keep them open. Grandmam lays a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, pet,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you up to bed.”
I don’t argue. Grandmam and Róisín help me up from the table and take me upstairs, and by the time I’m under the blankets, my eyes are already closing again.
***
I wake with a start to the sound of pans clattering in the kitchen below and turn over, trying to drift back to sleep, but a sharp pain pulls through my side and brings me fully awake.
The room is still grey with early light.
I lie there staring up at the ceiling, confused for a second about why everything hurts, and then it all comes rushing back.
Ronin in the shed.
Ronin on the boat.
The look on his face.
Finn hitting the ground.
I close my eyes, but it doesn’t help. It’s all still there.
More noise drifts up from the kitchen, and I know Grandmam is downstairs getting breakfast ready.
If I go down there, she’ll ask if I’m all right.
She’ll look at me the way everyone did last night, like I might fall apart at any moment, and I don’t think I can handle that right now.
But if I can slip out through the front door without her seeing me, I can buy myself a little time.
It’s a good enough plan until I remember my coat is hanging by the back door in the kitchen. I’ll never get to it without Grandmam seeing me. But my other coat is still in the shed. It isn’t far. Just across the yard.
I don’t like the thought of going near the shed again, but Ronin won’t still be there. He can’t be. After everything that happened yesterday, Grandda would have sent him back to Boston by now. My coat is only just inside. I can get it and leave.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I dress quickly, wincing when I lift my arms too high or pull at anything too fast, then leave my bedroom and head downstairs.
I grab my boots from beside the front door, step outside, and pull the door shut quietly behind me.
I sit on the step long enough to tug them on, then start across the yard toward the shed.
I’m nearly there when a shout cuts through the cold morning air.
“Don’t!”
I stop dead in the snow. That voice—panicked in a way I’ve never heard before—is Ronin’s. He’s still here. Grandda never sent him back to Boston. But why? He wanted to talk, and we talked. Why would he still be here?
My heart starts hammering, and I force myself to keep walking toward the shed, each step heavier than the last. As I get closer, I hear other voices, low and sharp, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. I reach the door, lift my hand, and push it open just enough to slip inside.
“If Alannah wants me to sign it,” Ronin says, “she can tell me herself.”
Sign what?
Everyone has their backs turned to me. Grandda and Uncle Conor stand near the middle of the room. Declan leans against the far wall. They’re all facing the chair in the centre.
Ronin is tied to it.
They’re still talking, but I can’t make sense of it. I’m too busy looking at Ronin. His face is worse than yesterday, the bruising darker, the swelling worse, his nose sitting crooked. Dried blood is crusted at his mouth and near one eye.
Grandda’s voice cuts through it, hard enough to pull me back. “Last chance, lad.”
Ronin looks straight at him. “I’m not signing.”
Grandda shakes his head, like Ronin has disappointed him, then reaches into his coat and draws out a gun. A sharp click breaks the silence.
“No!” I run forward.