Every piece of her mother's legacy is being erased.
It doesn't undo the damage she caused.
It doesn't bring back the years Dalla will spend having nightmares about that farmhouse.
But it's something.
It's justice, in its own brutal way.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I grab it before it can wake her, checking the screen.
Da.
I slip out of bed carefully, pulling on a pair of jeans before padding up the stairs to take the call.
The clubhouse is quiet at this hour—most of the members won't be up for another few hours at least.
The common room still smells like last night's beer and the faint ghost of cigarette smoke that never quite fades from the walls.
"Da," I answer, stepping out onto the back porch.
The morning air is warm and humid, typical Florida weather.
I'm still not used to it.
The heat, the humidity, the way sweat springs up on your skin the moment you step outside.
Give me a Dublin drizzle any day.
But this is home now. Or it will be. I'm learning to love it.
"RJ." His voice is gruff, tired.
It's late afternoon in Dublin—he's probably just come off a meeting, or maybe he's about to head into one. The Brotherhood never sleeps. "How's the girl?"
"Dalla's fine. Getting better every day."
"And the baby?"
"Healthy. Strong heartbeat." I can't help the smile that crosses my face.
Every time I think about it—about the tiny life growing inside her, about being a father—something in my chest cracks open. "The doctor says everything looks perfect."
"Good. That's good." A pause. I can hear him thinking, choosing his words carefully. My father has never been a man who speaks without intention. "When are you coming home?"
The question I've been dreading.
"I'm not," I say. "Not for a while, at least. Dalla needs me here. The baby?—"
"I understand."
I blink, surprised by the lack of argument. "You do?"
"You think I don't know what it's like to love a woman?" He laughs, but there's something wistful in it. "I made mistakes with your mother, RJ. Put the job first when I should have put her first. Don't make the same mistakes I did."
"I won't."
