I can’t help but laugh. “And, I’m pretty sure you gave me shit when you saw my record collection.”
“No.” He tosses me a bright smile as he slows to turn. “I gave you shit for having multiples of the same album. Not forbeing a Swiftie. I respect it.” He takes my hand, planting a kiss on my knuckles, and slides his fingers between mine.
The next song starts but is quickly interrupted by the Bluetooth announcing a call from “Ma.”
He ignores it. “I'll call her when we're back.”
A few seconds later, another call cuts through.
Cillian's brows knit. “Sorry, I should?—”
“Don't apologize,” I reassure him.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetheart.” Cillian’s mom—Kitty, as I’d heard others refer to her—answers, her accent thick. “Sorry to bother ya, I know you're on your way back but...” she fades off, muffling the mic before continuing. “Have you heard from Joey recently?”
His jaw flexes beneath his tight, cropped beard. “No. Not for a few weeks. We...We had words. Why?”
“Oh...” More muffled voices from off the line. “Will you give me a damn minute, Tina?” Cillian’s mom says to someone, frustration clear in her tone.
“Mom?”
“Hold on, sweetheart.” In the shuffling silence, Cillian and I exchange a tense look. “Sorry, impossible to talk with my sister in the room in the best of times.” Kitty sighs. “Tina hasn't heard from Joey in a few days. He’s not taking her calls. Julie and the kids even tried to call him and got nothing.”
Cillian releases my hand, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white.
“She's getting worried. Wants to call in a wellness?—”
“Do not let her call the cops, Mom,” Cillian cuts her off.
“I know, I know. I talked her down from it...” She trails off for a moment. “He’s probably fine. Right? Just having some bad days.”
“Yeah. Probably.” Cillian pulls into a gas station.
“Anyway, just wanted to check with you. She said she wants to go over there today, so I'll just go?—”
“No.” Cillian snaps, his voice rough. He drags in a breath. “Just...tell her I'm on my way.”
“Cilli . . .”
“Mom, please.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Do not go over there. Don’t let her go over there. Let me handle it.”
There’s a tense pause before she replies. “Okay.” Cillian’s body visibly relaxes. “I’ll do my best to stall her, but she’s gonna try to get over there.”
“Give me at least an hour if you can. Tell her I’m on it and I’ll give you a call when I talk to him.”
“Alright. Be safe, sweetheart.”
“I will be.”
“I love you, Cillian.”
“Love you, too.”
As soon as the call disconnects, the music starts playing again, its poppy tune incongruous with the heavy atmosphere that has settled over the car.
Cillian turns, the volume down, his eyes fixed forward.
