Fuck, Holt and I have more in common than I realized. We’re both haunted by the same demons. Two sides of the same coin, never knowing how alike we are until now.
“Our father was stuck at some political fundraiser,” he begins. “It was his very first campaign running for mayor, one month before the election. We didn’t see him very much during that time of year, but our mother never held it against him. She understood and tried to fill his absence as best she could. He didn’t have the security he does now. And, honestly, I don’t think he ever thought he’d need it. At least not then.”
His voice cracks, and so does my heart. I want to wrap myself around him, comforting Holt in a way I never thought I would. I see how fragile he is, how the memory still haunts him. I recognize it because I see myself when he looks down at me.
“We were waiting in the subway tunnel when these two masked men came up on us. Both were armed with pistols. One held one to me and Jules; the other was pointed at my mother.” His voice breaks again. “The man pointing the gun at me and Jules pushed us back, tearing us away from our mother. We fell to the ground and…” He inhales a shaky, unsteady breath. “Everything happened so fast. One second, she’s looking right at us, the next she’s lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood.”
My skin turns ice cold, and a shiver breaks out over my body. I try to shake it off, but I can’t. The memory of my own mother on her bedroom floor comes roaring back to life.
Holt runs his fingers along my back, soothing me. I focus on his touch, letting it anchor me.
“They shot our mother, execution style, then left us. They ran away as if they didn’t just kill a mother in front of her own kids. Security cameras caught the whole incident, and police made arrests, but…”
“But what?” Tears prick the corners of my eyes. One slips out, spilling down the bridge of my nose onto Holt’s bare chest.
He sighs and presses his lips tightly together. Then he clearshis throat. “I’ve never believed the people arrested were the ones who killed her. I think it was someone else.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Before they shot her, the man recited some sort of poem or something. At the time, I didn’t understand what it meant or what language it was, but over the years, I’ve never forgotten it. I also saw a tattoo on the back of his hand—a symbol I’ve never forgotten. A shamrock with two daggers piercing the petals.” He sighs heavily. “I’ve searched for it all over the internet, unable to find it. But there’s something else. As they were scrambling to get away, one shouted to the other a name I haven’t been able to forget. I told the police, but they didn’t believe me. They said I must have mistaken it because I’d just been through a traumatic event. My own father doesn’t believe me even now.”
“What was the name you heard?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
His blue eyes cloud over, and his voice turns gravelly when he says, “O’Connell.”
“Wait. I’ve heard that name before.”
“Heath. West’s brother mentioned his name the night he died.”
“You’re right.” Unease flutters in my stomach. “You think it’s the same O’Connell?”
“I don’t know.” He blows out another hefty breath. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I can’t explain it, but I just have this feeling they’re connected.”
“Holt…” Fear cripples me. I shouldn’t let it, but I see the determination in him.
When Holt sets his mind to something, he goes for it. He hasn’t stopped looking for his mother’s killers, even when the world is telling him it’s case closed. But I fear what will happen if he continues to travel down this path.
“I haven’t figured it out yet, but I won’t stop. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a choice. I need to trust my own memory. But I think it’s driven a wedge between Jules and me over the years. I used to talk with her about it. I would follow her down never ending rabbit holes, playing that night over and over, hoping for a clue. Eventually, though, I think it broke Julianna, hearing me replay that night repeatedly. I broke her even more than she already was, and she distanced herself from me. At least inside she has. I couldn’t let it go when all she wanted was to move on. I’ve tried to live as normal a life for her sake, but everything I did only caused Julianna to doubt me when it came to anything.”
I’m lost in the words he’s speaking, completely under his spell. A mixture of sadness fills my gut for my best friend and for Holt. All this time, I thought they were close. We’re in the same social circle, and I’ve seen them laugh and chat, but I guess they’ve been able to hide their wounds from the world.
Just like I have.
He drags his finger along my cheek as though he’s memorizing me.
“Jules has lost trust in me,” he whispers, the heartbreak evident in his eye. “Maybe that’s why she doesn’t believe I can ever love someone more than myself. She thinks I’ve been searching for our mother’s killer out of selfishness, like I’m trying to do it to prove a point when it’s the opposite. She doesn’t know the lengths I’m willing to go to for those I care about. Love holds no bounds. It bears no restrictions. It has no red line or limits.”
A lump builds in my throat, and it suddenly becomes harder to breathe. I blink the feeling away, refusing to let my thoughts overshadow this moment. Holt is being vulnerable with me—a side I know he doesn’t show to just anyone.
“What?” He frowns, noting my silence.
“Nothing.” I shake my head.
“You know, I can tell when you keep a secret.” He nudges my back with his finger.
“You cannot.” I play him off with a laugh of dismissal.
“Of course I can. You do this thing with the corner of your mouth.” Lifting his hand, he draws an invisible line along the corner of my lip with the tip of his finger.
