I glare at him while he laughs more. “What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Continue.”
I continue my death stare. “Anyway. She was all over me, and I brushed her off. I don’t remember leaving with her. I don’t remember much of anything after the wedding. When I woke up, I had the worst hangover. I hadn’t even drunk that much. Only a glass or two of whiskey. I woke up in my room, and she wasn’t there. It was only me. I have no idea when or how it happened.”
“You don’t remember because you don’t want to. You clearly blocked it out because you feel guilty.”
“I know,” I say. The words come out strangled. He’s right, I know he is. And I’m a shitty fucking person.
“I need…” he sighs, shaking his head. “Time. To think.”
“Okay,” I whisper. My throat is raw from both the crying and the beating it just took thanks to Griff.
“You need to leave,” Griff says, folding his arms over his chest. His gaze shoots to the floor, avoiding me completely.
Hesitating, I don’t move. I’ve missed having him around, being able to talk to him whenever I please.
I nod, turning to leave. On the way out, I catch Scotty sitting in a blacked-out Tahoe across the street. I walk toward him, and he rolls down the window when I get to him. “Hey,” I say, stuffing my hands in my pocket. “You’ll let me know when he’s home safe?”
Scotty glances toward the entrance of the pharmacy, then back to me. “Yeah.”
“How’s he been?”
“He’s pissed, Paddy. He’s not happy that you’re making me follow him, and he’s angry that you’re not letting him move on.”
I clear my throat, stepping away from the car. “I can’t, Scotty. How am I supposed to move on when it hurts this much? I don’t understand how he can let go so easily.”
“He’s hurting. You broke his trust.”
“I broke my own trust. How can I even begin to make up for what I did if I have no memory of it?”
Scotty shrugs, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb as he glances through the windshield. “I don’t know, Paddy. Maybe letting go is what’s best here. No matter what it means for you, maybe it’s time to let him move on.”
“I’ve risked my life to keep him safe. I’ve fought to keep him here, and I’m not giving up so easily.”
Chapter Five
19 Years Old (Past)
Thedoorbellrangoverand over. Mom hadn’t moved from her spot on the couch in days. She was immobile, unable to get over the grief of losing her husband–my dad. His death was horrible, don’t get me wrong, but we all knew it was coming. Death is inevitable when you’re in the mafia.
The drive-by shooting had been an unfortunate accident. Callum Murphy told Mom. But that’s the life we lived, and I knew growing up I didn’t want to be a part of this. Before he died, Dad made it clear I’d follow in his footsteps. I’d become another guard or drug runner for the Murphy family. Just another hood rat tattooed with the Southie brand.
Dad dying was actually a blessing for me because I could use it to my leverage. I could get out and away before I was forced by Callum to take his place.
The doorbell rang again, and I groaned. “I’m coming, Jesus!” I blew a hard breath to get the bangs dangling in my face out of the way before I flung the door open.
Paddy stood before me, hands stuffed into the pockets of his blue jeans. His wavy dark hair fell in front of his face and he smiled up at me from the bottom steps. One foot was placed on the ground, the other on the first step.
“Hey.” He offered a small smile, his dimple showing in his chin.
God, he was so devastating to look at. I hated I was in love with my best friend when I was gay and he was straight. He was also the son of the man responsible for Dad’s death.
It was why I needed to get the hell out of this God-forsaken town. I needed a fresh start, to get away from the toxicity that was the Irish mob.
I folded my arms over my chest and leaned against the doorframe of the house. “What do you want, Paddy?”
“Wanted to see how you’re doing, Griff.”
