“Can you cool it with the third degree? I’ve been… It’s been a really long day. I was going to call you in the morning and tell you everything. Oh, also, I’m gonna have to reschedule our plans for Thursday. I’m having lunch with Aisling.”
“Wait. When did your father start speaking to them again anyway? Was Callum there?”
Yeah. Great question.
“I don’t know, Ness. You know he doesn’t keep me in the loop on much of anything,clearly. And to answer your question, yes, Callum was there.”
“Maeve,” she says, her voice rising again. “You don’t have to do anything with that family. You’re a grown woman. Do you not remember what he did? He—”
Nope. I’ve had enough. The tension, the exhaustion, and the frustration all come bubbling to the surface. I fling the covers aside violently and stomp to the window, my adrenaline pumping now.
“Nessa, if I recall correctly, you were also a part of that equation,” I say levelly, cutting her off. “If we're going down memory lane here, then let me remind you,YOUknew how I felt about him, butYOUstill participated. I forgave you, but youDO NOTget to bring that night up like he was the only person in the wrong. Iamgrown, so I’ll be the one to make my own decisions on who I associate myself with.” Notentirelythe truth, but still. I don’t feel like explaining. “If you want to be involved inanymanner, then you will cut the shit, stop trying to dictate my life, and keep your mouth and hands to yourself. You’re my cousin and my friend, so I’d appreciate it if you’d act like it.”
I take a breath, trying to remind myself that my cousin and my best friend is, unfortunately, petty, and she has always seen the rift between our family and the Egans as fodder for gossip rather than as a serious matter. She has next to no idea of how our world works. We all knew that her father Liam was only a part of the family business because he'd married my father's sister, who died before Nessa was three. Liam had never been part of the inner circle, had never quite earned my father's trust. As a result, Nessa had always had some kind of weird inferiority complex about it all.
Oh, to be blissfully naive again. I’d love to have no idea what was going on, no idea about how any of it works. In a way, I have been blissfully naive for the past ten years, but all of that is about to change.
“Well then,” she replies huffily. “You obviously need to go to bed. You're all bitchy right now.”
She hangs up before I can tear into her again. She knows she’s pushing a button. I chunk my phone across the room and watch as it hits the chair in the corner and falls to the floor.
Chapter 7
Callum
Cingulomania (n) a strong desire to hold a person in your arms
The crack that rings out as Maeve's fist connects with Ronan's face makes me wince. I watch in stunned silence as she strides back inside, leaving Ronan and I reeling. I guessthatanswers my question about her training.
“What in the hell did you say to her before dinner? In the sitting room? Must’ve been something good,” I say, stifling a laugh. “She knocked the shit out of you.”
Ronan rubs his jaw. “I just told her she’d have plenty of time to eye-fuck you later when there weren’t other people in the room,” he says casually.
I punch him in the arm, knocking him to the side as I walk to the car.
“Hey, man! What the fuck was that for?” he yells behind me.
“That was for you saying dumb shit twice tonight,” I say over my shoulder as I open the passenger door. “We’re trying to ease into this, not piss her off,ye feck. Now get in the car.”
Ronan slides behind the wheel a moment later, and we pull around the large stone fountain in the center of the drive. I take one last look atthe house before it disappears behind the trees. The light wash of the stone seems bleak, but it hadn’t always felt that way. Maybe it’s just the events of the night. I feel unsettled, restless, and pessimistic. Maeve had barely spoken to me, and shecertainlydoesn’t trust me. Not that I blame her.
The rest of the quick drive passes in silence. I gaze absently out of the window, my elbow on the armrest, chin in my hand. After a few minutes, Ronan turns on the radio and starts a playlist from his phone.
"Rain"by Sleep Token begins playing. I’m already thinking about her, but the song makes the ache of wanting her more pronounced. There’s no doubt about it. She still gets to me, after all this time. And I’m completely okay with it. I just hope she can accept me for who I am now.
Once we make it back, Ronan lets me out near the door in the garage before parking the car. I head inside, leaving him to his vices for the remainder of the night. I climb the stairs two at a time and walk into my study. I turn on a small lamp and head over to the window, looking out into the night toward the Collins’ house. Like most nights, I see her there, sitting on the roof with her knees tucked to her chest.
I reach for the crystal decanter sitting on the liquor cart next to the window and pour myself a drink. Taking a hefty swig, I pull a chair over to the telescope I kept at the window. I lean, lining up to look through the eyepiece. I grab my sketchpad and pencil from the corner of my desk, and I see that a new pile of files had been dropped off while I was at dinner.
Great. Shop papers, as we call them.The legitimate side of the business. One of our many ventures is vehicle modification. We specialize in highly customized modifications, things you can’t necessarily see. Things that aren’t exactly legal. Many of our clients require armored cars with hidden compartments, bulletproofing, and even concealed weapons inside the frames. When legitimate vehicles come through our shop, I handle the paperwork to ensure everything is in order. The local police are on the payroll, but we still have to make our wealth seem plausible, and the shop makes it easier to move the custom vehicles in and out of the city for deals.
But tonight I’m distracted, and business will have to wait. I ignore the stack of files and toss back the drink, then sit down, propping one leg on the stool and resting the sketch pad on my thigh. I begin to sketch Maeve, pausing occasionally to check her image in the telescope.
I smirk as I think about what Maeve would say if she knew I was sketching her. If she knew I was watching her as she sat out there on that rooftop, reading her books and gazing up at the stars. She’d pretend to be mad as hell. But I know there’s more to it. It’s why so much has passed between us tonight. Everything we left unsaid. The reason she was staring at me in that sitting room before dinner. The same reason I did. Oh yeah, I did. Because Maeve has always wanted me to see her. Not just stare. But truly see her. The light, the shadows, the darkness. She wanted every ounce of herself to be accepted.
It’s a side profile, the one I was accustomed to these days. But tonight has me wishing she were standing right in front of me, looking me in the eyes and letting me read her like she reads her books.
Her hair is tucked behind her ear, but loose strands are blowing gently around her face in the breeze. God, I wanted to be close to her, to tuck her hair back behind her ear, to touch her, to… I think about being so close to her earlier tonight, at the dinner table and out in the garden. I recall the sensation of my fingers trailing down her arm, the way goose bumps erupted in response.
