“Don’t bother.”
I don’t want to annoy him, seeing as he’s still mad at me. I never expected him to welcome me back with open arms. He needs to do it at his own pace. But his own pace is killing me slowly.
Cian’s phone rings, and when he answers it, I guess Amber is on the other end. He speaks to her for a few seconds before nodding and disconnecting the call. “I’ve got to go. That was Amber. She—”
But I cut him off. I don’t need an explanation. “I’ll see ye later.”
I know he wishes things could return to how they once were. But they can’t. Amber, Rory, and the others will see me when they’re ready. I’m not expecting miracles.
“How will ye get back?” Cian drove, but I’m not ready to leave yet. I have to do something first.
“I’ll walk.”
It’s a long way, but the fresh air will do me good. Cian lent me his truck, but I’m not ready to drive yet.
“All right then. Call me if ya hear anythin’.” He gives me a loose hug goodbye before walking toward his car.
Once he’s gone, I make my way toward a place I’ve wanted to visit for as long as I can remember. I just didn’t know where to look—until now. I pass a florist along the way and buy a bunch of red roses.
It’s so quiet, but I suppose the dead don’t talk.
Passing the rows of gravestones, I wonder what each person whose name is etched into their respective stone was like. Were they loved? I can’t help but think about my own gravestone. What would mine say? And who would grieve for me?
With a sigh, I follow the signage and walk down the plush green rows until I come to a modest gravestone that has been weathered with time. I stand before it, unbelieving I’m here. I read over the name three times to ensure I’m really standing before my ma’s grave.
It’s simple. But I expected that because when my ma was laid to rest no one was here to mourn her. She was buried a liar and an adulterer.
There is no epigraph, just her name and the dates of her birth and death. Why didn’t my grandparents ensure she got more?
Dropping to a crouch, I brush the fallen leaves and twigs aside and take a moment to process everything. Now that I’m here, I don’t know what to say.
“I’m so sorry, Ma,” I start with regret. “Ya didn’t deserve this. We were so close to gettin’ out of here. I often wonder how my life would have turned out if we had left. If that arsehole, Sean, hadn’t found us. I think we would have been happy.”
Sighing, I tug at the blades of grass, trying to picture a life away from here. A life away from the Kelly name.
“I promise ye, he’ll pay for what he did. To you, and to Connor. I know Connor hurt ya, but in the end, he saved me as best he could. Even though he knew I wasn’t his son, he still left everythin’ to me. That says somethin’ about his character. That shows me that he still loves ya as he did this for you.
“I hope yer happy. I love ya and will make it right.”
I remove a single rose from the bunch before placing the bouquet at Mum’s gravestone.
“Goodbye, Ma.”
Coming to a stand, I promise myself I won’t return until Sean and Brody are dead.
With the single rose in hand, I walk toward Connor’s grave at the opposite end of the cemetery. No doubt that was done by Fiona, as she wouldn’t want Connor near my ma; alive or dead.
His marbled gravestone is elaborate. Fiona ensured his was the biggest here.
Beloved husband to Fiona. Cherished father of Hannah and Ethan.
Forever in our hearts.
It doesn’t surprise me I didn’t make the family tree. I’m the reason he’s buried in this grave. Besides, he isn’t my father. However, it still stings that Fiona made sure I was nowhere to be seen.
Placing the red rose on his grave, I say the only thing I can. “Thank you.”
Even knowing what he did, he tried his best to save me. He believed he would go to prison, not me. But Sean made sure we both suffered.
Just as I’m about to leave, the air turns thick, and instinctively, I dive behind Connor’s gravestone, taking cover as a bullet zips past me. I’m under attack in a fucking cemetery—no respect for the dead, it seems.
Peeking around the gravestone, I see a man in a black balaclava running toward me. I’m waiting on a gun from Cian, as I can’t obtain one legally, so I’m unarmed. Desperately searching for a weapon, I reach for a porcelain vase filled with flowers on a stranger’s grave—it’s the best I can do.
With his gun trained on me, the man gets closer and closer, and I know if I don’t do something, he’ll shoot me as there is nowhere to hide. My aim has always been good, so I kiss the vase for luck before jumping up and throwing it at my attacker.
The two bullets that slice through the air miss me, but my throw is on target and hits the fucker straight between the eyes. He stumbles, and his gun slips from his hand. Without delay, I charge at him as he attempts to regain his footing.
Diving on top of him, we both fall to the ground, where I raise my fist and connect with his face. “Who sent ya?” I scream, yanking him up by the collar of his shirt and pressing us nose to nose.
He doesn’t reply, which infuriates me further.
I headbutt him, the crack singing to my depravity, rattling the bars of his cage, demanding more. Just as I’m about to break his nose, he raises a shaky hand in surrender, his blue eyes pleading I show mercy.
And I do, because those eyes…I’ve looked into them before.
“Ethan?”
I quickly jump to my feet, looking down at the trembling man who is merely a boy. I don’t want to believe this is my baby brother, but I know that it is.
“Answer me, lad!” I demand, offering him a lifeline because if this were anyone else, they’d be dead.
He shakes his head, his chest heaving. He’s afraid.
“Sean has sent ya to do his dirty work, is it? I taught ya better than that, cub. If yer gonna shoot, best not miss.”
Bending down, I pick up Ethan’s gun.
A winded hiss leaves him as he raises both hands in surrender.
“Ya think I’d hurt ya?” I question, saddened. “I never would.”
I could hurt him to teach him and Sean a lesson, but I can’t do that to Ethan. He’s just as much a victim as I am.
“It’s only a matter of time. You think on that, Ethan, because if yer not with me, yer against me. Away now.”
His confusion is clear, but when he realizes I’m giving him one chance and one chance only, he scrambles to his feet.
“Tell him ya couldn’t get a clear shot,” I instruct, looking Ethan dead in the eye. “If ya don’t, he’ll look on this as weakness. Don’t ever think yer valuable to him—yer not. Once he’s done with ya, he’ll dispose of ye like nothin’ but shite on his shoe.
“Like he did to me, to my ma, and to yer father, Connor. Don’t you ever forget that yer a Kelly—Connor Kelly’s son.”
If Ethan tells Sean what happened, Sean will punish him for his mistake, and Ethan realizes what that means for him. He doesn’t understand why I’m letting him go, but he doesn’t stick around to find out. He takes off, looking over his shoulder once to ensure I’m not following. I’m not.