“Well, I’d say I’m doing pretty shitty, Paddy.”
“Yeah.” His voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”
I shrugged, grinding my teeth. I looked away from him and towards his feet. He was wearing the red converse I let him borrow months ago that he never returned. That makes me chuckle because this kid's dad is the head of the Irish Mob and wants for nothing. Yet here he was, wearing a pair of used Chucks that had seen better days.
“I’m not,” I finally said, glancing up at him. “I’m not sorry.”
His brows furrowed, his head shaking a bit. “You’re not?”
“Nope.” I pushed off the door, heading toward the bottom of the steps. “You get what this means, right?”
He cleared his throat. “It means you’re leaving.”
Yeah, he knew. He’d always known the only thing tying me down to him was our connection to The Southies. And well, now that tie was broken. I didn’t have to follow in my father’s footsteps anymore.
He took my silence as the admission of guilt that it was. “When are you leaving, Griff?”
“Just signed the paperwork today. Ship out next week.”
He covered his mouth as he coughed. “Army?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t do this, Michael.” Glancing up at me, Paddy’s fist connected with my shoulder. “Don’t leave me in this shithole.”
I didn’t want to leave, and my heart cracked. I knew leaving was the only way I would survive. I needed the distance from him. Because being in love with someone who didn’t want you was like falling into the ocean in the middle of a tropical storm without a life vest.
It was suicide.
Paddy
Therewasaknockat my door, and I looked up from the book I was reading to see Callum leaning on my door frame. My older brother moved out a few years ago when he turned eighteen, while I still lived with Ma and Da. He visited daily because he has business with Da, so it’s like he never left. Ma still cooked daily, did my laundry, and kept me much needed company, so I wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon. Until Griffin went and joined the Army.
“What’s up, Paddy?” Callum asked. He pushed off the door frame, coming further into the room. Grabbing the basketball on the ground, he shot a hoop at my open door.
Closing the book in my hand, I cleared my throat to gain the courage to tell him. “I have something to tell you.” I didn’t want to tell my parents. I already knew they would disapprove. Which was funny, considering the line of work Da was in.
Callum turned, waving at me to continue. Cal always had a way of making sure he listened to me when our parents wouldn’t. He was only a few years older than me, but still, he held a maturity about him I never had. Being the oldest, he probably felt the responsibility to succeed more than I ever did. And he’s always made sure the siblings could come to him whenever we needed. Even Saoirse, who was the youngest, knew Cal had our backs.
Whenever Da was mad at one of us, Cal made sure that we knew it was coming from a place of tough love. We were the next generation of leaders to the Irish mob in the United States, and we needed thick skin. No, we needed more than that. We had to be ruthless, cunning, savage, politically involved. And Callum was able to take on the many hats it took.
Cal pulled out my computer desk chair and sat. He was wearing a suit jacket like Da always requested, and unbuttoned the jacket to lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What is it?”
“You can’t tell Da.”
Cal sighed, running a hand down his freshly shaven face. After a long beat of silence, he finally nodded. “I’m not sure I want to know whatever it is you’re about to say. But go on anyway, mate.”
“Griffin signed up for the Army.”
“Aye.” Callum and I were both born in Ireland, but we moved when I was young enough. I didn’t hold the thick accent or the terms the way he did. His accent was always there, a hint in the way he said certain vowels, but he never lost the chosen words he used.
I blew out a breath, preparing myself. Or maybe I was stalling. “I signed up to go with him.”
Cal’s jaw went slack. I didn’t think I had ever surprised my brother before today. He sits upright, dragging a hand through his unruly auburn hair. “What did you just say?” His voice is low, and I can sense his concern.
“You heard me just fine.” I never stood up to Cal or even talked back to him. This was a first, and I wasn’t sure how he’d handle it.
Behind these walls we were family, but outside the front door, he was my boss. He was the second in command to Da. When Da died, he would be the head of the Irish mafia in not only Boston but in the other factions spread across the country. And when that happened, I’d be the second. There would always be a type of power he held over me, and because of that, I never toed the line between being rude or talking back.
