“And you didn’t tell me!” Islan looks at him in surprise, her eyes wide. I can’t quite read her expression. Is she angry, or shocked? Maybe both.
“Islan, I was fully immersed into the Welsh by then and couldn’t risk either of us being exposed.”
It’s then that I realize the enormous risks he took, how dangerous this has all been for him.
“Tate, lay off,” I tell him. “He’s risked everything to keep Islan safe and bring Tavish back to you.”
“Risked everything,” Tate mutters. “Easy for you to say, when the bloke isn’t bangin’ your bloody sister?—”
Islan winces, a rarity for her. “Good luck with that,” she says to me. “Honest to God, the crassness.”
I grin at Tate. I love everything about him.
We hear footsteps, talking and laughter and back slapping. Tate looks to Islan. She rises wordlessly and takes his hand.
A moment later, the door opens, and a tall, thin bloke who looks so much like Leith it’s unnerving, walks into the room. He’s a bit ragged and battle-worn, but he has the vibrant Cowen Clan eyes and the lithe, strong physique they all bear.
He looks about the room, as if stunned, like he’s just woken from a dream.
He looks to Tate, then Islan.
“Tate?” He looks to Islan next. “Islan?”
Tate’s got him in a bear hug, and Tavish extends an arm to Islan. My throat feels tight, my eyes blurry with tears. We’ve somehow rolled back time.
The Cowen family’s whole again.
The sun’salmost fully set, small fingers of gold and orange and rust on the horizon. I felt a bit out of place down there, during the reunion. Tate called the rest of the family, and there was a right good reunion, though virtually. I quietly took my leave when Flora came on. Would break anyone’s heart to see and hear the raw pain when she saw her son, as if the years of mourning and grief spilled out of her all at once in a brutal, but necessary, cleansing.
I went up to the room and sat in one of the chairs, letting dusk settle around me. Planning my future.
The books are gone. I know that now, and I know it’s for the best. And it makes me sad when I think about it. Of course, if I had it to do over, I never would’ve used their family as inspiration to begin with.
But I love them. I love them all so much, and it was so tempting to write more and more stories of love and redemption about them. The paychecks didn’t hurt.
I know now it was far too risky, too dangerous for any of them. I owe so much to them for the havoc I’ve caused.
The door opens, and Tate looms in the doorway.
“Didn’t know you’d come up here, lassie,” he says quietly.
I nodded. “Aye. Didn’t want to be in the way.”
“You wouldn’t be in the way.”
I shrug. “Maybe not, but I felt you all deserved the reunion.”
He comes to me, settles beside me on the sofa, then drags me onto his lap. I nestle my head on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I say, still carrying the burden of guilt for what I did to them.
“None of that, now, Fran,” he says, running his fingers through my hair. “What’s done is done. And aye, we blamed you for quite a bit, but it seems rival mafia are far more to blame than anything. Interpol would’ve nicked us regardless of anything you did. And now you’ve gotten us immunity with them, haven’t you?”
I nod. “Suppose.”
“Not to mention the fact that you actually helped reunite us with the brother we thought dead.”
I shrug. “Kane would have?—”
