“Saoirse is a lesbian. Let’s not act like you would approve of anyone for your precious sons,” Lorcán inserts.
“You and Declan can take this one, but you’re right, she’s not good enough for my sons,” she spits.
Finn stands, pressing his knuckles against the table. “Enough.”
“Fionn, sit down,” she reprimands, pushing her plate away like the food is atrocious.
“I’ve told you countless times I prefer to be called Finn. Elena is mine and Cillian’s scent match, Lorcán is our half-brother, and Declan is family. If you can’t keep your opinions to yourself, you can leave our home and go the fuck back to Ireland.”
The woman across the table sits up straighter, sucking in her cheekbones and looking away. Meanwhile, Seamus looks proud.
“I haven’t seen you in two years, and this is how you treat me?”
“Orla, for fuck’s sake, stop,” Seamus shouts, banging his hand on the table.
The woman laughs sardonically, and then her eyes connect with mine.
“Maybe you’ll get lucky like me, and one of them will bring home a bastard after you’ve dedicated years of your fucking life to a family.”
I look down at the table where Lorcán is currently gripping it in anger. There’s clear shame written on Seamus’ face as his wife talks about his infidelity, and I’ve had enough.
“Mr. O’Brien, it was nice meeting you. Despite everything, I want to thank you for your part in bringing me to your sons and Declan. Lorcán has protected me for years. He’s a good man, despite who raised them.” I glare at Orla. “You still raised good men, so thank you for that. But if you’ll excuse me, I’m not feeling so well.”
I begin to scoot my chair and leave when Finn stops me from doing so.
“No, this is your house. Mother, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. When you feel as though you can act like a normal, civil human being, you can come back.”
“You can’t possibly have feelings for her,” Orla spits, standing up.
“Whether I do or not is none of your fucking business. This is my house, my pack’s house. You aren’t going to come here and be nothing but disrespectful to everyone in said pack except Cillian and myself.”
“After everything I’ve done for you?” she questions.
“You mean all the self-deprecating bullshit, the manipulation, the way you made us treat our fucking brother like shit?” he spews.
“I did no such thing!”
“You made us think that if we cared for Lorcán, then we didn’t love you. He was a fucking child. He didn’t ask for Dá to cheat on you or for his mother to fucking die. He was alone, and you made it so that the two people who should have made him feel safe hated him instead. It’s taken me years to see this, and I’m sick of it.”
“She’s sickening your mind. You never used to feel this way. Cillian?” She looks to him for guidance.
“He’s right. Everything with you was always a manipulation tactic. If we didn’t do something or say something right, it meant we didn’t love you. Your husband didn’t love you enough, so you forced your kids to be the source of your affection. We’re sick of it. We choose Lorcán, we choose Elena.”
Orla starts crying, and Seamus sighs.
“Divorce is legal in Ireland, ya know?” Declan says, speaking for the first time as Orla makes a screeching noise and heads to the door.
Seamus rubs his temples and sighs.
“Elena, dear, I’m sorry this was our first introduction. Let me go get my wife settled, and I’ll speak to you boys later,” he says, excusing himself.
I blink and look around the table, wondering what the fuck just happened. It’s quiet until Declan starts laughing hysterically. Lorcán and the twins follow suit.
I’m dumbfounded as I look at them all laughing their asses off. Declan literally has tears in his eyes that he has to wipe away as they all seem to quiet down.
“What the fuck was that?”
Declan holds his glass in the air. “That, blondie, was us becoming a pack.”
