The shoebox full of special items I’d thought we’d lost in the fire. One of the only pictures of my mom with me, and one of the only pictures of Cian with his parents. The rocks he’d collected on that hill before his life had been stolen from him. The little buck his Mom used to tuck into bed with him when he’d sleep.
A note from Cian was in the box too. In it, he told me that, after he saw how important the memories were, he’d bought a fireproof box in case something should happen—just like it had. He told me his life and memories were inside that fireproof box, which had the ultrasound pictures of our twins tucked inside of it now too. He’d even written their names. Baby A was Camden, and Baby B was Caitlin. He said he just had a feeling.
Then he told me the box was like me. No matter what happened, I’d keep him safe. Unlike the shoebox he used to cart all his things around in. It had never fully protected him.
But me? His wife? I was going to keep him alive no matter what happened.
Either way, he was going to be fine, and he’d always be with me, just like he was with me when I’d been sitting at Oran Craig’s table without him.
A soothing lie.
I’d never be fine without him.
The end.
Chapter38
Cian
Snow danced in the headlights of my car as I found a parkin’ spot close to Oran’s house in the darkness. I parked and cut the engine. I’d never done this before. Just sat outside of it in silence.
All the lights were turned out. He probably had a man or two sittin’ on it, worried about fire retribution. He burned mine down. I’d burn his down. It was the only place he owned free and clear. It was bought underneath his name. He had an attachment to it.
I wasn’t goin’ to burn it down. I was goin’ to kill him and then buy it. Use it as a place to host my cousin from New York whenever he had business in Boston.
That was retribution, because men like Oran Craig always clung to things when they left this world. They carried them around like baggage to the other side. Created their own hells out of them.
In the silence, I felt two poundin’ heartbeats.
His.
Mine.
After tonight, only one would exist.
The actual place where it all went down was beside the point. He was hidin’ out at a bar that was his. It swarmed with his men, who were armed to the teeth. I’d get there later.
I’d come here to not only sit in the silence, but to imagine my wife walkin’ up those stairs, sittin’ at his dinner table, fearful of the next second because she knew time was tickin’.
My parent’s and sibling’s deaths were still clingin’ to me, but the thought of somethin’ happenin’ to Maeve O'Callaghan and my babes was keepin’ me grounded, even when her soft pleadin’ voice asked me not to leave her.
It was an internal battle I was fightin’ as hard as the one on the ground.
Maeve had twisted everythin’ around in my life, including my priorities and the reasons why I was doin’ this.
I caught the noise in the backseat a second too late. The cold steel of a gun pressed against the back of my head. I withdrew my gun and pointed it at the man who’d snuck in behind me, but he would’ve had the jump on me if he’d pulled the trigger.
“Your mind is not straight, lad,” Keenan said, stashin’ his weapon. “You had no clue I was even back here.”
Your mind was on straight when Dermot hit you with a tire iron?It was on the tip of my tongue, but it wasn’t the time to swap jabs.
I turned toward the windshield. He sighed, gettin’ out of the car and takin’ the empty spot next to me. A surge of smoky, cold air clung to him for a second before it faded. He stared at the profile of my face until I turned and met his eyes.
“This started long before you, lad. The blood with Oran Craig goin’ sour. You’re just carryin’ your Da’s portion of it. I deserve to be in on this night. Fiona as well.”
“I need you to take care of my family,” I said.
“Oooh, in the unlikely event, is that it?”
