“We don’t know yet. But we’ll figure it out, lass.” Callum rubs her back, soothing his baby sister.
“I mean. When was the last time something like this even happened?” Saoirse brushes away the red locks of hair falling in her face. Bright green eyes dance around the room, making contact with each brother. None of them have a response.
So I’m the one who answers. “When we were teens,” I say, voice in a low whisper. “When my father was killed. We never did find out who was behind that, did we?”
I swipe the bag of blood I placed on the table earlier, my jaw tight from the stress this day has caused me. The entire room watches me, as if waiting for me to finally break.
“Did we?” I repeat, knowing that they won’t answer unless I force one.
“Aye, we did,” Callum says finally. He steps forward, taking the blood bag. “Let me take this to Haley.”
“I’m coming, too,” Saoirse says.
“You found my father’s murderer, and you never told me?” I ask, the question directed at Paddy.
“I found your father's killer, lad,” Callum says.
I snap my gaze back to him, waiting for answers. No one ever gave them to me. Callum Senior just apologized, gave my mom money, and never spoke of his death again. And now I’m learning that they knew who killed him this whole time.
“Your father was a rat, Griffin. He was selling our secrets to the FBI. He had to be taken care of.”
“What?” Both Paddy and me say at the same time. This leaves so many questions in the air, but honestly, I don’t know if I’m even ready to deal with that. Not with everything that’s going on right now.
Callum turns to his brother. “This doesn’t leave the room. I trust you know what will happen.” His hand is on the handle of the door and he turns it, sauntering off with Saoirse running behind him like a little duckling.
Both Declan and Sean find excuses to get the fuck out of here, leaving me with the last man on Earth that I want to be alone with.
Paddy doesn’t care what I want, though. He approaches, his hands gently falling over mine, squeezing them. “You’re pale, look like you’re about to throw up, and your hair is a mangled mess of shit. Talk to me, baby.”
Exhaling a heavy breath, I drop my head into the crook of his neck. His scent invades my senses, calming me despite the fact I don’t want him to still be the one I turn to when things go to shit. I’m supposed to hate him, to never want to see him again, but my heart doesn’t give a shit about protecting itself. No, the dumb organ beats only for him, and it’ll be the fucking death of me.
Paddy
Westaylikethisfor what feels like forever, and I don’t make a move to break the embrace. Not when it's the first intimate touch he’s given me in months. Earlier this evening doesn’t count when he was still angry with me and we were using each other.
My arms are wrapped around him, one hand playing with the locks of his brown hair while his are around my waist. He doesn’t have to speak for me to know how frazzled tonight made him. He hates the loud noises as much as I do, and judging by the tightness in his neck and shoulders, Griffin’s been on high alert.
“You’re safe,” I say, pressing my lips against the top of his head. “Nothing happened to you, baby.”
He nods, keeping himself clung to me, and my heart cracks. For him to let me hold him when he still so clearly hates me after everything I’ve ruined means he’s not doing okay mentally. Pulling away, he heads for the chair in the corner of the room.
The loss of him hurts, but I know he needs the distance to keep himself grounded. The silence is deafening. Almost too much.
“All I keep thinking about is the night you almost lost your leg,” he says after an agonizingly long few minutes.
“Oh, Griffin,” I say, my tone soft and concerned.
“I’ve worked so hard to get it to go away, to forget about it. But your screams, and the way I felt? God, Paddy. I cannot get your screams out of my head. I thought I was going to lose you.”
I tug at the collar of my shirt, not wanting to talk about it. I’ve tried to shut that night out completely, too.
Griffin reaches for me, and I go to him, drawn like a magnet. Grabbing my hands, he tugs me to him.
And just like I always do when he’s sitting, I drop to my knees in front of him. Resting my head in his lap, I settle in while he mindlessly plays with my hair. My heart rate picks up, excited with the familiarity that is being so close to Griffin. I’ve missed this too fucking much.
“Every time I hear her name I want to kill you for hurting me,” Griffin says. “You saved my life and I could have lost you. I swore I’d never do anything to lose you again. And I guess in a way I didn’t have to do anything. You did it for us, Paddy.”
A tear drips down my cheek. “I hate myself and I wanted to kill myself for hurting you too.”
