13. Connor
Connor
A drenaline pounds through my veins as I enter the club. Ignoring Sully’s curious look, I head straight behind the bar and drink straight out of a bottle of cheap whiskey. I take it back to my office. We don’t open for hours. Be good and drunk by then.
I told her I wanted to be with her.
God, and I’d meant it. What an idiot I am to get caught up with a woman in the first place, especially that woman. The look on her face when she told me she couldn’t handle my life, my work, my family.
It’s burned into my brain—the disappointment in her eyes. What did that sniveling asshole Brooks say to her? I’m not ashamed of what my family does, and I’ll be damned if a woman wants me to think less of them.
What she’d seen at the club last night had not been good. I should have handled that better. Should have had a different plan. Fuck.
Getting mixed up with the Stacys was bound to bring a world of pain raining down on us.
But I’d promised Ava I’d keep her safe, and I let Brooks Stacy hurt her. Another swig of the whiskey burns all the way down. It needs to erase the memory of the fear in her eyes as that son of a bitch choked her.
Still gripping the whiskey, I drop onto the leather couch. I want to punch something. Someone. I want to finish the job on Brooks. Ava may not want me in her life anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of her problem.
“Connor.”
Right on cue. I slam the whiskey down on the coffee table, resting my head in my hands.
“That didn’t take long, Seamus.”
He sits next to me. Once again, he’s overdressed.
“Well?” I just want to get the lecture over.
“Brooks Stacy was taken to the hospital,” he says finally, his voice low.
“He’s lucky he’s not going to the cemetery.”
Seamus laughs, a sharp, barking sound. “Bad joke, little brother.” He drops a hand on my shoulder.
It wasn’t a joke, but I realize I sound stupid. Like I sounded when I proclaimed my feelings for Ava in the middle of a fucking fight in a seedy diner. Jesus. No wonder she wanted me to get the hell out of there.
The hell out of her life. She needs stability, safety, strength. What am I bringing to the table?
“Yeah.”
“Listen. I also heard he hurt your girl, I don’t…”
“She’s not my girl,” I growl, grabbing the whiskey again and taking a deep draw. “She’s going to be a lawyer. Can’t be in bed with organized crime.”
The memories of her body flood my brain as I think about being in bed with her again. A stab runs through my soul, anger, regret, and something else deeper and harder. Something I can’t handle thinking about right now, an ache better left unidentified.
Seamus snorts. “I’m a lawyer, Connor.”
He grabs the bottle from me, takes a swig, and hands it back. “Jesus, that’s disgusting. Kind of hits the spot though.”
We sit in silence for a minute.
“I know it’s hard, Connor, but give her time. You’re too young to remember the toll Dad’s work took on Mom. If you really like this woman, you need to think about what she’ll be getting into.”
He’s right. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s selfish of me to assume Ava wants any part of something so complicated, especially after everything she’s been through. It’s true that it’s not black or white. But it’s not easy, either. Ava deserves a safe, comfortable life.
That doesn’t mean I don’t still want her to spend it with me. That I couldn’t give it to her.
“Seamus, I need to ask you something.”
“Anything, Connor,” and the fact I know he means it makes my eyes burn. Doyles don’t fucking cry.
Taking another slug of the whiskey, I run a hand through my hair. “If I wanted to do a scholarship at the law school, make sure it went to someone working in the domestic violence center, would you know how to do that?”
His eyes are hard on mine, and finally he nods. “Yeah, we could arrange that easily enough. How much?”
I shrug. “Whatever it takes to cover her tuition, living expenses, that shit. I don’t want her to want for anything. Can you do that? The sooner it starts, the better.”
I can’t make this right, but I can make one thing right. And make sure that Ava’s future, and maybe in some way my dad’s legacy, goes on the way it should. That’s there’s one good thing that comes out of me epically fucking this up.
“Is this about Claire?” Seamus’ voice is barely above a whisper.
Even just her name still rips pain through me. That might never change. But I’ve come to realize I need to find a way to let that go.
I shake my head. “Seamus, I’ll never forget Claire and I’m always going to feel like shit about what happened to her. I’ll always wish that we had found a way to protect our cousin. We all will.”
It’s one of the rare moments where Seamus lets his feeling show. The pain, the anger and the regret at Claire’s lost potential there mirrors my own.
“And maybe this was about Claire when it started. I saw a woman that I could protect. A situation that I could make right. But as I’ve gotten to know Ava,” my voice trails off as I consider my words.
“As I’ve gotten to know Ava, this has become about her.
I’m completely focused on making sure that she gets justice, that this gets resolved, and that she’s happy.
It’s about the present, and maybe the future. But not so much about the past.”
There’s a long pause, and then Seamus squares his shoulders.
“Good. So what are we going to do about Brooks?” Seamus puts a hand briefly on my shoulder. “You say she’s not your girl. I don’t believe you. And we don’t let people get away with hurting our family.”
“People have ended up floating in the harbor for less,” I growl.
“We can’t kill him, Connor. Even if he deserves it. Our friends on the force would be happy to help us, but things are too stressed now with Dad…”
“I know.” I straighten up and take another drink before putting the bottle down definitively. “I have a better idea.”