by K. Ryan
Her beautiful, soft lips part to protest, but I catch the words before they can fall out into the open.
"You've been mine since the night we met," I murmur against her lips. "There's no use in fighting it now."
I wrap my arms around her to prove my point, holding her body to mine, showing her that there's no emptiness in my words. I'm not just saying what she thinks she needs to hear. I'm not just throwing out such heavy words because I feel like I have to in a time like this. Every word, every feeling, every touch, every kiss, every moment has been real.
"I love you too," she whispers. "I'm just sorry it has to be this way."
"Not your fault," I tell her as I brush my lips over hers. "I'm with you, Rae. You're not leaving without me."
She swallows hard and her lips curl into a weak smile, but a few stray tears still slip down her cheeks. I catch them with my thumbs before they get too far.
"You're trying to be brave. You're trying to be strong," I grin down at her and her eyes soften. "That's just what you do. It's one of the reasons why I love you. But it doesn't matter where we go or how long it takes us to get there. I'm with you."
She buries her face in my neck and I can feel relief pouring off her in waves. Her lips trail up my skin, searching for something I know I can give her, and maybe this is just our grief doing the talking for us, but I've never needed anything or anyone like I need her in this moment. If I could just hold her this way forever, touch her this way forever, maybe we won't have to carry the horror we experienced tonight with us forever.
"How did that line go?" I whisper, my fingers trailing a line over her lips. "There're darknesses in this world and there're lights. You're one of the lights, the light of all the lights."
Her eyes squeeze shut and she rests her forehead against mine. "Are you sure it's a good idea to quote them? It's not like their story exactly had a happy ending, you know."
"I know," I chuckle and sweep some of that soft auburn hair away from her eyes. "We're not them. Our story will have a different ending. I promise you that."
She chews anxiously on her bottom lip and I swoop down to catch it between my teeth, giving it one soft nibble to get a laugh out of her. This is still so new, still so surreal that we're sitting here like this now—I've wondered what she would look like asleep in my bed, how peaceful she'd be, how much I'd want to trace the lines of her face just to convince myself that she's really there and tonight I'll get to do just that. Even though the next night we'll be sleeping in a different bed, in a different city, it's better than nothing.
There will be a tomorrow, but it's going to look very different from today.
So when a knock on my front door pulls us out of this one moment of safety, I don't want to let her go. I don't ever want to let her go.
Still, I let her slip away from my arms and get up to answer the door. Times like this, I really wish I owned a gun, but up until now, I've never felt the need for one. I've always felt safe in my neighborhood, surrounded by the people I've grown up with my entire life. Tonight I don't feel quite so warm and fuzzy about anything outside of my apartment walls.
"Go to the bedroom," I call over my shoulder. "Just in case, okay? We're fine, but...just stay there for a little while."
I wait long enough to make sure she's shut the door behind her before taking a quick look through the peephole in my front door.
"Shit," I exhale and shake my head. This night just went from horrific to excruciating. As if things could get any worse. As if things could possibly get any more complicated.
With a sigh, I open the door to Roark Callahan. His face is pinched tight with somber grief, his eyes are puffy and lined with red, and it's clear his night hasn't been much better than mine. He seems older than the last time I saw him, more weathered and wearier with the life that's led to this. I haven't spoken to either of my parents yet, mainly because I just don't know if I'll be able to take the sound of their distraught voices right now, but a phone call would've been easier than this.
"Jack," he nods, his voice low and scratchy, probably from crying.
"Pop."
I almost reach for him. I almost let myself comfort him even if he can't give me much comfort in return. And then I remember Rae. If I can do anything for her, I can shield her from this. I can—
Rae materializes from the hallway—God, does she ever listen?—and stills just a few feet away from us. It takes a moment, maybe because we're all strung out from grief, but my dad's eyes widen as they take her in. All the blood drains from his face and he stumbles back a few steps, like he's seriously considering making a run for it, but then he shakes himself out of it.
"Raena," he whispers like he's speaking to a ghost.
There's no reason to believe he poses any kind of threat to her, but I step in front of her anyway to shield her from his view. His eyes harden with new resolve as he looks to me again.
"I came here tonight because I don't know where else to go," he starts with a gravelly voice. "I guess it's just...I don't know, divine intervention or something that both of you are here."
"I don't know if I care anymore."
He grimaces and rubs a hand over his mouth with a slight nod. "Yeah, I get that. But the thing is, if I'd just done the right thing from the beginning, Sean wouldn't be in prison and you..." he swallows hard as his eyes find Rae, "you wouldn't have gotten hurt. And Brennan," his voice cracks on the name of his dead son, our fallen brother, "wouldn't have been a target. He'd still be with us. Everyone has suffered because of me—your mother...maybe she'd still be alive if—"
When I feel Rae stiffen behind me, I jump into action. "Why are you here?"
Despite my best efforts, she sidesteps around me until we're shoulder to shoulder. Her chin is held high and strong and there are no tears shining in her green eyes. Who am I to try to deny her this?
With his eyes focused solely on the daughter he abandoned, he replies, "I want to tell you the truth. You deserve it. You both deserve it."
My head dips into a nod, but Rae remains still and stoic next to me. When I rest a hand on her lower back to steady her, to comfort her, my dad's eyes widen with new awareness. Well, if he didn't know why she was in my apartment before, he certainly knows now.
"I know what Father Lindsay told you. I'm sure you're wondering if I ever got that last letter from Jill," his eyes soften and glow when he says her name.
I see it now—maybe he really does love my mother, but he never loved her the way he loved, still loves Jillian Moretti. That's okay, I guess, because now I understand what love can do, how it can completely alter your plans, your life, your motives, how it can shift the very axis you stand on. How it can sweep through everything you thought you knew and set you on fire. How it can be the greatest and the worst thing that ever happened to you all at once.
"I got the letter," he murmurs, looking down at the floor for just a moment before his gaze flicks back up to us. "And I wrote back, telling her to meet me at Castle Island. I just had no idea what I was going to say to her when we actually met. I knew she'd given birth to you...I was halfway to the hospital that day as soon as I found out, but then I just couldn't make myself go the rest of the way."
"That's because you're a coward," I tell him simply. It's easy now, telling him what I really think of him. I have nothing to lose. Nothing to gain either, but that's not the point.
My dad flinches, but he doesn't correct me. There's nothing to correct.
"You're right," he sighs heavily. "I am a coward. Always have been, always will be, I guess. I wanted them both—Jillian and Maura. I didn't know how to give the other one up because I didn't want to. Jill...she was the love of my life, but I married Maura. Took vows with her. Had children with her. Had a life with her. I couldn't just throw that away either. I guess, in the end, I didn't have to make the decision because Moretti made it for me."
Just when I thought I knew where this story was ended. Damn. Should've seen this one coming too.
&
nbsp; "He came to see me at the bar the day after I agreed to meet with Jill and told me he'd known since the very beginning. Our secret meetings. Our relationship. Our baby. He knew everything. There was nothing I could say to defend myself because how do you explain away infidelity? How do you explain an affair that never should've started again in the first place? I knew, just as well as anyone, that things should've ended between us when she was 17 and I was 20 and it should've stayed that way when we found each other again six years later. When we knew better. When we had more to answer for than just ourselves. I'm not trying to excuse it; I guess I just want to explain it...when she came back into my life, I wanted to hate her for leaving me. I couldn't hate her, though, because she did the right thing. We would've had nothing except each other if we'd run away together and after a while, that wouldn't have been enough. But I was stubborn and at first, I wanted to punish her. Then I just wanted to love her again. I couldn't stop it no matter how hard I tried."
I don't like the way this story is headed, but now that he's started, we're left with no other options but to see it through to the end.
"So Moretti told me, as easily as if we were talking about the weather, that if Jill tried to leave him, he'd kill her and the baby she'd just given birth to," he pauses long enough to gather his bearings and Rae sways a little from the impact. "He even admitted, right to my face, that he set up everything the night Shane died. How it was just an 'unfortunate misunderstanding' that Shane was in the ring, not me. He told me he wouldn't hesitate if I left him no choice, that he'd make it look like an accident. What was I supposed to say to that? What else was I supposed to do?"
He shakes his head, more at himself than anything. "I think, in some way, I was grateful for the threat. I didn't have to make the decision anymore, you know? This way, I could save Jill's life and your life and I wouldn't have to destroy my family in the process. I thought it was the right choice. The only choice. I told Maura as much too."
My dad's eyes flick to me and he swallows hard before forcing himself to continue. "She knew. She'd known for a long time—probably even longer than Moretti because she just doesn't miss anything. The night of the fight...that was the night she finally confronted me. Screamed in my face that she knew everything, every dirty detail about the woman I was cheating on her with. That was why I didn't show up that night. You have to understand, Jack, I love your mother. I really do. I couldn't even look her in the eye I was so ashamed with myself. And then when I got the call that Shane had died, I took off running for Jill—from one woman to the other. In love with two women. God, I'm so pathetic. So pathetic and stupid. When Moretti gave me that out, I thought it would fix everything. Maura would be happy again and Jill and our baby would get to live."
"Didn't you ever think that leaving Rae and her mom with an admitted murderer was a bad idea?" I seethe, unable to believe what he's telling me. The depth of his cowardice and his stupidity is just...it's too much to wrap my head around all at once.
His face twists mournfully and he shoves his hands in his pockets when he finally lets himself look at Rae again. "I thought when some time passed, she'd be able to leave him. After the dust settled and Moretti knew we were really over, she'd be able to take you and get out of there. I'd help her—whatever she needed me to do, I could still do that for her, for you. I thought I was buying her time to come up with a plan. So when it came time to meet with her, I just...I just couldn't do it. I couldn't look her in the eye and tell her it was really over because admitting it out loud would make it real. I couldn't tell her I'd chosen Maura instead because I wasn't sure if I really did. I couldn't go through with it. Couldn't see her cry. Couldn't see her beg and plead because I knew if I did, I might not be able to let her go again. There were so many truths and lies all muddled together and I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it. So I just didn't go. I let her show up, thinking we were going to find a way to make it work and I ruined her instead."
I could almost see her now, Rae's mother, so beautiful, so fragile—so different from her daughter in that way—sitting on a bench near the water where I'd taken Rae just a few days ago, waiting, hoping, wishing, planning. I hope that tragic image haunts Roark Callahan for the rest of his life. I have a feeling it will.
"When I found out she was dead, I..." he breaks for just a moment. His head falls into his hands and finally, his shoulders shake with silent sobs. When he unearths his face from his hands, tears streak his cheeks and I just don't care. "I tore through City Hall looking for Moretti. Found him in his high and mighty councilman's office and wrapped my hands around his neck. I needed to know why he'd killed her anyway when he didn't have to. I was ending it, I told him. It was over. Moretti swore up and down he didn't have anything to do with it. That his housekeeper found her in bed with blood running down her nose. I couldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it. Then just a few days later, I got this in the mail."
He digs deep into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. After shuffling through it for a few moments, he holds out a worn and yellowed piece of paper that looks like it's been folded and refolded hundreds of times. It takes me a moment to realize he isn't holding it out to me, but to Rae.
"You should have it," he tells her quietly. "I'd planned on giving it to Jack tonight, but it's only right that you take it now. It's the only thing I have to give you."
Her arm lifts robotically until she slips the aged letter from his fingertips. Still, she doesn't speak.
"There's no one else who could've written it," he murmurs. "It's in her handwriting. She must've put it in the mail right before she..."
He can't bring himself to finish that sentence and it's just as well. Rae doesn't need to hear him say it.
"After I read her last letter, I thought you were better off without me. All I do is just destroy everything I touch. I thought...with Moretti's money, with his influence, you'd have more opportunities than I could ever give you anyway. I never thought...I never thought about anything else. If I'm being completely honest, I didn't think I could bring you into my home and raise you even if Maura would've let me, because I'd have to look you in the eye every day for the rest of my life and know I'm the reason your mother is dead."
Cowardice to a tee. Too much of a pussy to own up to it. Too much of an asshole to put someone else first besides himself and his pride.
Everything about what he's told us tonight flies right in the face of all the lessons he's ever taught me: family first, protect your own, fight for your neighborhood, honor above all else, always do what's right...he was teaching us all the things he couldn't do himself. Parenting with a do as I say, not as I do mentality. Go figure.
"I was such a fool," he whispers into the silent air.
If we're supposed to feel sorry for him, if we're supposed to feel sympathy for him because he's had to live with the guilt of causing—albeit indirectly—the deaths of his mistress, his best friend, and now his firstborn son...yeah, I got nothing.
Instead, my attention lies on the person I need to actually comfort and my hand traces small circles on Rae's lower back to remind her she's not facing this by herself. She shifts a little closer to me and I close the small space between us until my hip brushes hers. My dad hasn't missed that interaction and his eyebrows knit together, eyes locked on where our bodies touch.
His adopted son and his abandoned daughter. Bet he never saw that coming.
"The last time I ever spoke to Moretti," he continues, his eyes a little more narrowed now than before, "was the night Sean got brought in for your attack. If I'd just said it, if I'd just finally admitted it, would we all even be standing here now? I don't know what would've happened with Sean, but maybe he wouldn't have let it go that far just to spite me if I'd given him what he wanted from the beginning. Maybe you..." he gestures toward me and my heart stutters because I know what he's about to say next, "maybe you wouldn't have taken that fight tonight if I'd just answered you honestly a few days ago. There are so many things I wish I could go
back and do differently, but I can't."
I hope he's said everything he came here to say. There's only so much a person can take in one day and Rae and I have surpassed that quota today in spades. Rae leans into me a little more, all but resting her cheek on my shoulder and now I just want him to leave so we can rest and so we can make our plans.
Anything else he has to say just dead air.
"Your mother wants to have the funeral in a few days," my dad tells me soberly. "I don't know what Shannon wants—she hasn't come out of their bedroom since we found out. But when I—"
"We won't be there, Pop."
His face twists with confusion and shock. "What do you mean? How can you not—"
"We have to leave the city tomorrow," I exhale and cast a quick glance at Rae to make sure it's okay for me to keep going. She's pale and those emerald eyes I love so much are swollen and bloodshot from crying for our dead brother, but she doesn't shy away from this. She doesn't back down.
When she nods tightly and squeezes my hand, I launch into the rest of it as my dad listens gravely, detailing everything we found on Moretti and his double-identity as William Rossi and finally ending with the threats that have us getting ready to make a run for it. Even now, saying it all out loud, I just can't believe it's come to this.
All that time we spent tailing him, breaking into his office, thinking we really had something on him, none of it mattered because he was one step ahead of us the whole time.
"You have to take those threats seriously," my dad tells us softly. "Take what you can and get out of here as soon as you can. As long as you give him what he wants, he'll keep his distance. If you can give me a few hours, I can get some—"
"We don't need anything from you," I cut in abruptly. "We're not taking your money."
He sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face. What did he really expect after all this? That we would welcome his help with open arms? That we'd take anything he has to say with more than a grain of salt?
