“Aye. Aye. I’ll be there,” I replied. “Not sure when, but I’ll be there.”
“I’ll see you, Kieran. And don’t fucking bail. I’ll be furious at you if you do.”
“Ah, well, we wouldn’t want that.”
I hung up, my pulse raw and twitchy. I knew I should go. I knew I should get out of Boston for a minute. Go up to New York or Jersey…check the ports there. Make sure nothing was gettingtoo close. I knew I should stop being Kieran and start being a Callahan for a while.
But I knew she was still scared. I knew she was still trying to figure out her next move. And I knew she was still mine, whether she admitted it or not, whether it was a smart fucking idea or not.
So I stayed.
And I waited.
And next week, if I didn’t hear from her, I would be at her place again. Maybe not fucking her—though, God, I really wanted to—but just to make sure she was safe.
It was Saturday, five days before Christmas, and she still hadn’t called.I let my head fall back and let the dry air steal the last of my breath. Then I stubbed out my cigarette and went back inside. I didn’t turn on the lights, didn’t even ask my home assistant to do it for me. Just walked through the empty house, up the stairs, through the shadows and silence and the smell of her that refused to leave.
I poured myself a finger of scotch, sat back on the couch and tried to think of other things. Things that didn’t involve old ex-lovers who happened to be DAs. But it was no use. She had taken over everything. And if I wasn’t careful, that was exactly how I’d let it all fall apart.
Coconut.
Vanilla.
Guilt.
None of those matched the Christmas tree I had set up in the living room in a sad attempt to make it seem less empty. It was decorated sparsely, probably because I had always thought of myself as better at other things. Probably because I hadn’t done it since I was a kid. Ornaments on one side and bare on the other, lights winding unevenly, garland draped too low.
But I had a child now, right? And I needed to do these rituals: these things that I didn’t get to do when I was a child myself. Ruby might’ve been right to keep Rosie away from the Callahans, but I wasn’t my father. I wasn’t going to hurt Ruby. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to hurt our daughter.
And the mere thought of it was excruciating. The mere thought of it undid me.
I fell asleep on the couch, the scotch untouched, and didn’t wake up until the sound of a notification startled me awake.
Liam, telling me to get my ass down to the club right now.
By the time I finally dragged myself into the shower, I didn’t feel any better. Maybe Liam was right; maybe I needed to get out of here. The house was already full of ghosts, and I didn’t want to see what it looked like when it was full of regrets.
I stayed in the shower longer than I needed to. Let the water scald my skin, let it sting my eyes, let it wash away the hollow. But some things don’t wash off, no matter how hard you stand in it.
It was an hour later when I finally got to the club. I went in through the back, ducking under the sheet metal gate that was still pulled halfway down over the loading bay. Sawdust and stale booze lingered heavy in the air, and Liam waited behind the bar, head bent over a thick stack of ledgers. He didn’t look up when I came in, but I saw the telltale flick of his gaze. Good to know I could still make him nervous.
I poured myself a drink, settled onto a stool, and watched him squirm. “You look sober,” I said.
“Aye, too much for my own liking. Are you buying me a drink?”
“Nah, you own a third of this place. Buy your own drink.”
He tutted, a smile on his face. The club was loud, so we had learned to read each other’s lips a while ago, and catch subtle changes in our expression. Even then, it was hard sometimes to communicate in this environment. “At least one of us is working.”
“Don’t start,” I said.
“Too late,” he replied. “You missed a fun night.”
“I’m having fun now.”
“Freak.”
“I take offense to that,” I said.
