by Monica James
“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.
Once he’s out of sight, I let out the breath I was holding, unbelieving that my baby brother pulled the trigger on me. If his aim was straight, he would have wounded me, and it seemed as though he didn’t give a fuck about that.
He’s in deeper than I thought.
Placing the gun at the small of my back, I look at Connor’s grave. “I’ll save him. I promise ya that.”
I decide not to tell Cian what happened at the cemetery but send him a text asking if he can bring over some guns and other weaponry as soon as he can. He said he’d bring them over tomorrow as he’s busy tonight.
I spend the rest of the day buying a bunch of cleaning supplies as I want to commence work on the castle as soon as possible. As I’m picking up the endless rubbish from what was once the dining room floor, I hear Darcy call out from the front door.
She was supposed to call on me last night, but I sent her a text, asking if we could postpone. I didn’t give a time when, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Darcy wants something, and I wonder what that is.
“I’m in here.”
Her high heels announce her arrival.
I don’t stop cleaning, which is no deterrent for Darcy. “How are you?”
“Ach, I’m all right. Sorry I didn’t have a chance to tidy up before ya came over,” I tease while she smiles.
She takes the place in, not hiding her horror at the castle’s state. “This place is a right mess,” she says, placing her hand over her brow as she looks at the ceiling, which is caved in.
“It’s looked wo
rse,” I counter, sweeping the broken bits of glass from the floor. “I mean, did ya see the fucking awful décor Fiona fitted this castle with?”
Darcy looks at me before bursting into laughter. “I suppose yer right. Yer gonna need some help restoring it.”
“A’ll be fine,” I say, not wanting anyone’s help. “Why are ya here, Darcy?”
She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “I need ya to sign some paperwork. As Hannah told ya, this is yours. Connor left it to ya. He also left money for ya. Fiona was given the majority, but she spent that awful quick.”
Hannah told me this. But Fiona no doubt blames me for having “nothing” when Connor died.
Darcy opens her briefcase and offers me a pen and papers as I lean the broom against the wall. “Sign here, here, and here,” she instructs, her sweet perfume lingering as she gets in close to show me where I need to sign.
I quickly scribble my signature, but I pause when I notice the date the will was drawn up. “This is the right date?” I ask her, pointing the pen to the date.
She nods. “Aye. That’s when this last will and testament was drawn up. Is there a problem?”
Looking at the date, I see that Connor finalized this after he found out I wasn’t his son. Yet he still left everything to me. No wonder Sean wanted us both dead. He gains nothing with me being alive.
Did Connor know Sean was corrupt all along? Did he have his suspicions that his own brother was the one stabbing him in the back? I’ll never know, but what I do know is that Connor left all of this to me, knowing I wasn’t his son.
I don’t know how to feel.
My entire life, I hated the aul’ lad, but I can’t now. Not after everything I know.
“No problem,” I reply, signing on the dotted line.
“Congratulations then,” she says, shaking my hand. “The castle is officially yers. So is Kellys’ Aluminum.”
“Getawaytafuk,” I say as Hannah failed to mention anything about that.
Our front was this business—a company that manufactures aluminum casting products for the automotive industry. This was how we could import and export our product—which has nothing to do with cars—without detection.
“Aye, no word of a lie. It’s yours. It’s not operational, but the piece of land it’s sittin’ on is very valuable. Ya can sell it and make yerself a grand profit.”
But I shake my head. “Naw, I’m not sellin’ it.” And the reason for that is because I plan on picking up where Connor left things.
That’s where I’ll base myself—in honor of the man who left it behind. This will be a secret for now, as I can’t have Brody knowing of this plan, but like a smart predator, I’ll wait and strike when my prey is unaware.
Darcy doesn’t ask questions and points to where I need to sign the deed. Once signed, she puts everything back into her briefcase. “I’ll organize getting the keys to ya then. The money should be in yer bank account within a week.”
I didn’t even ask how much. But it matters not. I don’t want his money. I will make my own.
Darcy hints she has something else she came here to see me about when she doesn’t leave. “I’m happy yer home. I missed ya.”
Her comment confuses me. “Ya did? Why?”
She smiles, appearing amazed I asked her this. “I couldn’t stop thinking about ye. I know it’s silly, but I really liked ya.”
“Oh,” I reply, unsure what to say because she’s caught me by surprise.
“You probably think I’m stupid.”
“Naw, Darcy, I don’t think that. How could I?” And I mean it. “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be locked up. I owe ya everythin’. As soon as I get the money Connor left me, I’ll pay ya—”
“I don’t want yer money,” she quickly interrupts.
“Then what do ya want?” I don’t like owing anyone anything, but the truth is, I don’t know how to pay Darcy back.
When she steps forward, I can guess what she wants. “Will ya come with me tonight? To a party?”
Folding my arms across my chest, I arch a brow. “I don’t really do parties. Or people.”
“I don’t either. We can be miserable together then.”
“I don’t have anythin’ to wear.”
She smiles, taking another step toward me. “I’ll organize that. All ya have to do is turn up as my date.”
There is no such thing as no strings attached in this world, which is why I nod. “All right. I can do that.”
Darcy’s face lights up as I know this means more to her than she’s letting on. I don’t bother asking whose party it is. “I’ll have someone drop off yer suit this afternoon.”
So, it’s a black-tie affair. The last time I wore a suit, things turned to shite. I hope tonight is different.
“I’ll come pick ya up around half seven?”
“Aye. I’ll be ready.”
Darcy smiles, and with an apprehensive touch, she cups my cheek.
I try my hardest not to recoil because I know she means no harm. But physical touch is something I need to pace myself with.
“Y’ve always stolen my breath away, Puck Kelly.”
My mouth parts as she stands on her toes to kiss my cheek, before leaving me alone, wondering what the fuck I just agreed to.
Whistling, I bend low to look out the windscreen as Darcy drives toward a grand mansion. This private country estate has a Gothic vibe, adding to the mystery this night holds. The gardens are vast, and there is no denying this estate’s beauty.
A valet gestures he will park the car. No expense is spared, it seems.
As I exit the car, I button up my black tuxedo jacket, peering at the huge mansion. Darcy slips into her gold high heels—she couldn’t drive with them on—which complement her ball gown. She smiles shyly.
I offer her my arm, which she accepts, and we make our way inside.
Music sounds from a string quartet, playing softly in the corner of the room. The entrance is filled with people who talk animatedly among themselves. There’s no indication of what we’re celebrating, but it’s a grand affair judging from the fancy dresses.
A waiter offers us champagne. I take two glasses.
“I’m glad I polished my shoes,” I tease, offering a glass to her. I’m also thankful I’m now clean-shaven as I would have looked like a savage with the beard I was sporting.
She accepts with a laugh. “Let me show ya around.”
I don’t argue and follow her through the mansion since she’s clearly been here before. The staircase is marbled, and branches off into two directions. Darcy leads me to the left, which seems to be less populated than the right.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here,” I say when it’s evident that this upstairs area is off-limits to guests.
“Since when do you follow the rules, Punky?” Darcy says over her shoulder.
“Aye,” I reply with a shrug, curiosity getting the better of me.
Numerous doors branch off the long hallway, which has me guessing these are guest rooms. The expensive paintings hanging off the walls and the low-hanging crystal chandelier adds to the wealth this place exudes.
Darcy grins before softly opening a door to the left. She pokes her head inside and gestures I’m to follow. This can’t be good. When I step inside and see the pressed white linens and the four-poster bed, I realize I was right.
“Whose party is this?” I ask, watching as Darcy walks over to the large window overlooking the grounds.
But she doesn’t reply.
“This estate is part of my father’s portfolio,” she says instead. “When I was a little girl, I used to pretend this was my castle, and I was awaiting my prince’s return. That prince was you.”
I adjust my bow tie as it’s suddenly suffocating me.
She turns over her shoulder slowly and smiles. “Yer finally back.”
“I’m no prince, Darcy.”
“Yer right.” She saunters toward me, stopping a few inches away. “Yer far
too good for that. Yer a king. So now, the question is, are ye looking for a queen?”
She waits for me to reply, a brazen smirk tugging at her red lips.
However, I never get the chance to reply.
“Punky?” Hannah gasps, pausing in the doorway when she sees Darcy and me together.
I, too, am surprised to see her here, but don’t have time to question it because Cian and Rory almost crash into her as they attempt to see what she’s gawking at. When they do, I know I shouldn’t be here.
“Don’t be mad,” Darcy whispers into my ear as she stands on her toes. “I brought you here because no one wants to tell you the truth, and you deserve to know.”
“Whose party is this?” I repeat, dangerously low.
She nervously licks her lips. “It’s Rory’s engagement party. His and…Camilla’s. They’re getting married.”
Even though I heard her, my brain doesn’t want to process her words as truth. But when Babydoll enters the room, laughing with Amber, oblivious to what’s going on, there’s no denying that her “good man,” the man who can do what I cannot—make her happy—is my best friend.
My best friend is marrying the woman I love.
But Darcy isn’t done.
“I also wanted you to come because Brody is here. It’s time people stopped treating you like a fool.”
When Babydoll and I lock eyes, I realize that Darcy is right—it’s time to quit actin’ the maggot. It’s time for war.
All eyes are on me—eyes which look at me with a mixture of guilt, sorrow, and shame. So this is what Cian was talking to Amber about today. He had ample opportunity to tell me why Rory didn’t want to see me. Just how Babydoll could have shared who her fiancé is.
No wonder Hannah was so incredibly sheepish when speaking of Babydoll. She didn’t want to be the one who broke my heart. But you can’t break what is already broken beyond repair.
Before me stand the people I held closest to my heart, but now, all I see are strangers. So much has changed in ten years. Even though I was stuck in time, my friends moved on; just how I wanted them to. But seeing them together, realizing they had a life without me, fucking stings.