She didn’t even tense up. If anything, she relaxed.
She softened.
Sliding up against me, she settled all her curves against my hard lines until we were cleaved together, skin to skin.
“If anyone hurt Jacob,” Aoife ground out, “we’d do the same to them, wouldn’t we?”
My heart didn’t know what to do.
At first, it slowed down as my body was incapable of processing the idea that my son could go through what I had.
Then it raced with the need to avenge my kid, a kid who was so protected and cosseted that he’d never know what an empty stomach felt like, that he’d never be without a roof over his head.
“We would,” I agreed, and that her words reflected my thoughts soothed something inside me that I didn't know was an open wound.
She nodded. “It isn’t the life that changed me, Finn. Being a mom did that.
“I don’t know why your mother failed you, but I knew she mourned you for the rest of her days, and I also know you’re right—that did nothing for you. That didn’t take away from what she let happen to you.”
I squeezed her, shoving my face against her shoulder so that I could hug her harder.
“Would you feel better knowing she did something to hurt your stepfather? Even though he was already dead?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” My tone wooden, I closed my eyes. “I need you to promise me something, Aoife.”
Her hand slipped around me and cupped the back of my neck. “What, baby?”
“To always put our children first.”
She shuddered. “Oh, sweetheart.” I heard the tears in her voice, didn’t need to move to see them in her eyes. “I promise,” she said thickly.
I nodded.
That had to be enough.
For tonight, that had to be enough.
“Who knows about Conor?” she questioned.
“Brennan, Declan, and Eoghan don’t know. Conor doesn’t know that his parents are in the loop now.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“I know you won’t.” I hesitated a second before grating out, “Junior and I, we burned down St. Patrick’s Church.”
“That means we don’t have to go to any services now? Yay!” she cheered.
“Well, that’s a novel way of looking at arson."
Her laughter bubbled free. “I’m not the Catholic here.”
"Didn't you wonder why we didn't go to church last night?"
"Since when do I look gift horses in the mouth? I was just glad I didn’t have to go out into the cold.”
Aoife made me look devout so I wasn’t totally surprised by her reaction, even if it was further proof of the life changing her.
My lips curved. “Big baby.”
She shoved me in the side before she released a soft whistle. “Father Doyle is probably rolling around in his grave even though he isn’t dead.”
“He called Senior today. Demanding the villains suffer.”
“I’ll bet he did. Look at him turning the other cheek,” she sneered. “Does Aidan Sr. know you and Junior were behind it?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” I pulled back to look into her eyes. “I watched it burn, and it was like the ties that bound Junior and me to that place burned with them.”
“Do you feel lighter?”
“I do.”
“Who knew arson was good for the soul? Not sure Father Doyle would like that news to spread.”
At her jovial response, all I could think to say was, “I changed you.”
“I grew up. I know the world is mean and nasty, and I know that we can’t do anything to change that.
“I know pedophiles walk the streets every day, and they get away with it. Hurting more kids, destroying more lives.
“I know that being bad doesn’t mean you’ll be punished.” Her fingers raked through my hair. “I told you, you didn’t change me. Being a mom did that. It made me see the predators out there who could hurt my children. And not just how you were hurt either.” She pressed a kiss to my lips. “We’ll keep our family safe, Finn. We’ll do that together.” She hugged me. “Now, let’s get some sleep. You need it, Smokey Bear.”
She smushed my face into her tits, and her hands continued smoothing through my hair as if she could soothe me as easily as she soothed Jake.
If only that were possible.
As I lay there, I recognized there was a certain irony to the situation.
She hadn’t thrown me out. Cast me from heaven for confessing my sins to her… a confession that felt more cleansing than anything I’d ever admitted to Father Doyle in the confessional where my baby brother had been fucking raped by a clergyman.
And as liberating as that was, it was also cataclysmic.
Because if it felt this good to get the truth off my back, how many of my filthy secrets could she handle without turning me away…?
Finn: What’s going on out there?
Brennan: Bunch of fuckers whining about being cooped up in here.
Brennan: It’s not exactly a party, that’s for fucking sure. They’ve all been shitting themselves since Da made his grand speech.
Finn: They’re asking when they can leave?
Brennan: Yup. Not the men. Their wives. Why Da insisted on inviting them is beyond me.
Finn: Power move.
Brennan: Scare the women, scare the men? Most of these fuckers hate each other. They’re not love matches.
Finn: It’s the kids.
Brennan: I’d like to think Da wouldn’t get us butchering kids, but with how his mind is at the moment, I don’t fucking know.
Finn: Me either.
Brennan: You think it’s a possibility?
Finn: Not today.
Brennan: If Da finds out someone’s a Sparrow and they didn’t come to him today?
Finn: Yes.
Brennan: I’ll do a lot of shit for the family, Finn, but killing kids ain’t one of them.
Finn: Aidan and I will figure out a way to stop that from happening.
Brennan: If he even suggests it, he’s off his rocker more than we thought.
Finn: Agreed. We’ll handle it.
Brennan: See that you do.
Finn: Bossy motherfucker.
Brennan: Stop your grumbling and get on with it.
Four
Brennan
December 26th
I stared at the door to my da’s office.
Granted, this wasn’t the same study door that I’d stared at as a kid, just waiting to get my ass hauled in and my ear clipped for whatever shit I’d done.
This was a different house, a different study, fuck, a different Brennan.
I rubbed my chin as I continued staring at the eighty by thirty-six-inch plank of wood and tried to reason out my options.
Da had just declared to his top men that today was an amnesty of sorts.
A freebie.
If the Sparrows had fucked around with you, now was the moment to come forward. If that group of self-serving, secret boys' club motherfuckers had gotten to you, turned your head, then now was the moment to confess, and if you did, there’d be no payback.