Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
What if he can’t handle the thought of me with someone else?
What if this, having Abbott, feeling again…loving again, is what makes me lose my son for good?
I don’t think I could survive that, survive disappointing him again in such a huge way.
His car is in front of the house when I arrive. Tiernan’s is too, and I kill the engine, knowing at least the two of them are home. I didn’t call first, didn’t want to delay the inevitable or open it up for them to ask why I was coming before I arrived. This is a conversation that needs to happen in person.
I get out and head for the door. It’s down a long driveway, far back from the road and surrounded by trees much like the cabin Abbott and I were at—only this house is two stories, with enough room for all the boys and their partners, and Ash has a room here as well.
I make it up the second porch step when the door pulls open, Cillian standing there, the bangs of his brown hair hanging over his forehead the way it always does. His blue eyes, that look so much like Moira’s, are a little wide and panicked, and just like our phone conversation, the first thing he says is, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
The sadness of it all, of what I let happen to us boils over, flooding my insides.
This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. This is the fourth year my son has lived in this house while at school and his first thought is that something is wrong just because I came here. “Nothing is wrong. I’m okay. Healing nicely. I just need to talk to you.”
Ollie slips up beside him—smaller, with glasses, looking too sweet to hurt a soul, but a man who would do anything to protect my son.
And that’s why he’s standing next to him now…not that I would ever hurt Cillian physically, but he’s afraid I will hurt him emotionally, and he might be right.
“Okay…” Cillian steps aside, the two of them making room for me to come in.
Rory is on the couch, Shai with his legs over Rory’s lap, a video game controller in his hand and a bong on the table. They immediately hop to their feet—probably both a sign of respect and worry about why I’m here.
“What’s up, Daddy Rian,” Rory says, breaking the tension.
“Please, don’t call me that,” I tell him.
“You want a hit?” Rory nods toward the bong.
“I’m good. Sit back down. You’re good.”
Rory’s gaze shoots to Cillian, and without looking at my son, I know a silent conversation is going on between them—checking in, being the support system that Rory needed when they first met and that Cillian needed after Moira died.
“Is Tiernan home?” I ask.
“Upstairs with Dean. You’re here for business?” Cillian crosses his arms.
“No.” Fuck, this is hard. “Can we go somewhere to talk? Just the two of us.”
“Well, that’s not very nice. What if Bunny wants to go? Or me?” On instinct, Rory and Shai, both slide closer to my son, making sure Cillian knows that if he doesn’t want to do this alone, he doesn’t have to. It’s the kind of bond they have always shared, Rory even having his own nickname for Cillian’s partner.
“If that’s what Cillian wants, then you can, but it’s personal, something that’s important to me to share with my son.”
Ollie’s eyebrows pull together as he watches me with intense eyes.
“It’s fine,” Cillian says, then turns to Ollie. “I’m good, Kitten.” He kisses Ollie, nods at Rory and Shai, then signals to me. “Come on. Let’s go into T’s office.”
I follow my son through the living room, down the hallway, and through a door. Cillian closes it behind me.
“What is it, Dad?” That’s Cillian. He doesn’t tiptoe around the issue, wanting it all out on the table.
“I should have come here more often,” is the first thing that comes out.
“What?” He walks over, leaning against the desk.
“Here. To see you. You knew there had to be a big reason I’m here. I know I’ve fucked up, and I know we’ve talked about it, but I keep getting all of these reminders of how I failed you…and how I failed her too.”
“Then change it,” he says simply, and I can’t help but crack a small smile. He’s right. I’m the only one who can do anything about this. “When I was young…before Mom died…all I wanted was to be like you. You weren’t like Uncle Sloan. You didn’t treat me the way he did Tiernan, and you didn’t treat Mom the way he was with Aunt Fia. You were like this…I don’t know, beacon for what was right and wrong.”
“Everything I did was wrong,” I remind him.
“Not with us. Maybe to the outside world, but not to the people you loved. It was…special being loved by you. I knew it. Mom knew. No one else would have taken the time to bring Rory home to take care of him. You were the one we called after his mom died and we needed help. You’re fair in a fucked-up world when most people aren’t…and you know how to love…that’s why it hurt so bad to lose it.”