by K. Ryan
I can't believe I'm actually letting myself agree to this, but it's really the lesser of the two evils as far as Jack's safety is concerned. He's much more likely to come out the victor going head to head with a fighter than with the mayor. At least in the ring, he has a better chance of coming out unscathed. With the mayor, all bets are off.
"This is some wicked crazy bullshit," Brennan mutters and shakes his head. "You know what? I'm done with this tonight. I'm gonna go home to my wife."
He doesn't waste any time and the door slams on his way out before I even have a chance to catch my breath. Now it's just me, Jack, and Bennett standing in the middle of this kitchen, heavy with the weight of everything we can't say. I want to ask him why he's ignored me, but I won't do it with Bennett in the room. I won't act like some clingy ex-girlfriend who just can't take a hint.
Still, when Jack puts a hand gently on my lower back to help guide me to Bennett's car outside, I hate the way my heart leaps for joy. I hate the way my heart wants him. I hate the way my heart needs him. I hate the way I've reduced myself to a whiny would-be heroine out of some outdated romance novel. I hate the way I've all but taken myself out of the narrative by letting the men in my life define me.
I'm not that girl.
Even if I used to be, I'm not anymore.
"I'm sorry, Rae," Jack murmurs softly as he opens the passenger side door for me.
"For what?"
This is the moment. He can choose to own it or he can choose to hide.
"I'm sorry I..." he trails off, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. After casting a quick glance over his shoulder to find Bennett giving us a wide girth of privacy, he finally turns his attention back to me. "I'm sorry things went too far the other night. I didn't mean to take advantage. That's not what that was about."
"You didn't take advantage," I point out carefully, my eyes narrowed.
He swallows hard again and unearths a hand from his pocket to scratch his chin. "I, uh, think we should just chalk that up to a rough day, okay? That's all it was. That's all it can ever be."
"Why?" I shoot back.
His lips twist in a rueful smile. "You know why."
It's not like I expected anything less, but the truth of it stings. Scalds. Wounds me deeper than I anticipated. Yet another rejection, another disappointment, but this time, it feels like something's opened up and sliced right through me with a white-hot knife. Heartbreak. That's what this. Cold, searing heartbreak.
You're in love with him, that nasty little voice whispers. And he might as well have just slapped you in the face.
The truth...finally. And it hurts so much I think it just might suffocate me. I don't know when it happened. I'm not even sure why—I just know I feel it. I just know this love that I feel, this ache that I can't set aside...it's smashed my heart into tatters.
Instead of meeting the pain head-on, I push it aside and choose to meet his gaze instead. I choose to stand up for myself instead.
"So it doesn't matter what I want?"
His eyebrows lift in surprise and he rubs a hand over his mouth. "And what is it that you want?"
You, I want to scream. I just want you, you goddamn idiot.
But the fact that he even has to ask tells me everything I need to know.
"I wish things could be different, Rae," he murmurs hoarsely and his stormy eyes glimmer with regret and true remorse. "I really do."
"It doesn't have to be this way," I shake my head. At this point, there isn't much left to say so I open the passenger door and slide in. "And just so we're clear: I'm done being a doormat, Jack. Done being an afterthought. See you later."
And with that, I slam the car door, doing my part to put up the wall between us. It's not like it took all that much to begin with.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jack
The rag moves up and down the bar, back and forth, side to side, until I swing it all the way down to start it all over again. Given that it's 9:00 on a Thursday night, it's not like I have too many patrons to worry about and the motions of moving the rag around helps my nerves a little. It's not quite enough to dissipate the whirlwind of thoughts working their way through my mind, but it's better than nothing.
I've got two days until Sunday. Two days to get my shit together. Two days to figure out what the hell I'm going to do about Sean, the Gianottis, Moretti, and Rae.
My eyes squeeze shut just from thinking her name. There are so many things I wish I'd done differently—starting with every moment we spent on my couch and everything that followed. I don't know how it happened because it shouldn't have. Any control I had just vanished into thin air the second her warm lips pressed into mine.
Never should've happened. Never should've let it go that far.
At this point, I'm lucky Brennan rang my doorbell when he did.
His judgment isn't even the worst part of all this. It's the fact that if things had gone differently, Rae and I could've easily been raised in the same household as brother and sister. It's the fact that, ultimately, Sean is in prison because Rae lied. I don't care what excuses Sean's thrown her way—the end result is still the same. It's the fact that my dad loved her mom and somehow, everything went horribly wrong for them. It's the fact that now, because of that, we're still paying for their mistakes. There's just too much history there, both in and out of our control.
The sins of our parents have followed us for too long and I just don't know how to shake them. Everything I want, I can't have.
Maybe I want her because I can't have her. There's something to be said for the adrenaline rush of doing something you know you have no business doing. It's a sickness, festering down every nerve ending and finally filling all the places you know you should leave well enough alone. Maybe I'm wrong, though, too.
I don't want to feel this way. I don't want to want her this way. Walking away when all this is said and done would be the best thing for both of us, even if it means walking away from the only woman I've ever wanted to know.
What I feel for her...it's a little like acid reflux. My chest burns, my throat closes, and I'm uncomfortable as shit and sometimes, I feel like I just want to puke because I've never felt this before. All I can think about is how soft the skin right underneath her earlobe would feel to kiss, what she would look like asleep in my bed, what I would have to do, what I'd be willing to give up just for the chance to really have her.
We started this mess hating the very air the other breathed and now...now I was sitting here, trying to convince myself to forget her. If given the chance and if I threw all caution to the wind, I think I'd ride into hell and back for her.
That, ultimately, is why I need to back off before either of us gets in too deep and definitely while Sean is still trapped in prison. Letting myself fall down the rabbit hole with Rae would only complicate an already convoluted mess of feelings and misunderstandings.
"I'm done being a doormat. Done being an afterthought."
The rag drops onto the bar top and my head falls into my hands. I've got plenty of other issues to sit here and brood about. Plenty of things that could go wrong on Sunday that I need to prepare myself for. But God...the disappointment in her voice, the determination and pain in her eyes. If I could punch myself in the face for making her feel that way, I would. Nobody should make her feel that way.
I don't know what this feeling is. Don't know what to call it. All I know is that if she walked through the door right now, I just might get on my hands and knees and beg her to forgive me, to give me another chance to prove she's not a doormat. She's not an afterthought. Not to me.
That scares the shit out of me.
It's that moment the front door of Na Soilse opens and in walks my dad and Father Lindsay. The solemn, grim expressions on both their faces tell me everything I need to know: I'm about to be on the receiving end of an intervention.
Great. Just great.
My dad nods to me from across the bar and I know things ca
n only go down from here. Father Lindsay, ever the loyal servant, follows my dad's lead and they don't stop until they've angled themselves right in front of me. Whether it's divine intervention or plain old bad luck, the small group of patrons I had lingering toward the back promptly get up and leave. Of course, it probably has more to do with the sober faces staring back at me than anything else.
"We need to talk, Jack," my dad's gruff voice calls out to me as he leans his elbows on the bar.
"I already know what you're going to say," I just shrug and slap the wet rag over my shoulder. "What's the point in wasting everybody's time?"
Father Lindsay shakes his head. "It's not a waste of time. Your da and I have some things that need to be said."
My dad's trusted confidante and the keeper of all his shameful secrets...he can't exactly say he's unbiased here. Of course he's going to be on my dad's side in all of this, regardless of history. Of course he's going to feel like it's his righteous duty to try to talk me out of this fight on Sunday.
"Alright. Fine. Say what you gotta say and then let me get back to work."
My dad scrubs both hands over his face, his shoulders sagging, heavy with the weight of everything that's about to go down here. I guess, if I were him, and I had to have this kind of conversation with my son—heaven forbid—I'd probably feel pretty damn grim about the whole mess too.
"Alright," I wave a hand around in the air to get this convoluted party started. "Have it."
The two exchange side-eyed glances and then my dad's light blue eyes flicker up to meet mine. They're the same light blue eyes I see reflected in his biological sons and thankfully, by some miracle, not his daughter. The same daughter he's never admitted to actually fathering. My hands clench around the bar's edge until my knuckles turn white.
"You can't fight on Sunday," my dad shakes his head as the words roll off his lips and into the space between us. "If you're aiming to fight anyone connected to the Gianotti brothers, then you can't fight any day."
I huff out a bitter laugh. "If this is all you came here to say then yah wasted your time."
My dad's eyes glaze over with disbelief. "I won't let you—"
"Last time I checked, Pop," the word feels strange on my tongue now and I know I'm not the only one who notices. "I'm a grown man who's pretty damn—sorry, Father—pretty capable of making my own decisions. This is just something I need to do and that's just something you'll have to accept."
"Why?" he implores, leaning into the bar as if the proximity will somehow change my mind. "Why do you have to do this? I don't understand why you'd knowingly and willingly put yourself in this kind of situation."
At this point, I don't see any other options. My hands are tied. Might as well come out with it.
"Valentino Moretti and William Rossi—the same William Rossi who's been buying up our properties in Southie left and right—are the same person."
That hangs in the air a little longer than I'd like and their mouths drop open accordingly. Even now, having had more time than them to digest that, it still packs a mean punch. Our wonderful mayor is a two-timing crook—not like that's really anything out of the ordinary in politics, but I have the evidence on a flash drive to prove it.
"If I win this fight," I press on. "Then I get the deed to that new mall property he just stole right out from under us. And that deed is the last nail in Moretti's coffin. He won't be able to lie, cheat, or bribe his way out of this and with the election coming up in just a few months, he doesn't have a leg to stand on. Brennan might as well just start picking out an office in City Hall now—hell, maybe he'll even get a stab at being mayor, too, since the position will be wide open by the time he gets there."
My dad blinks once. Then again. And again until he finally shakes the cloudiness from his eyes. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. How do you know all that?"
Just as my mouth opens to respond, it snaps shut again. He doesn't deserve to know. He doesn't deserve to have all the facts because he's never been willing to share any himself. I know I'm baiting him and protecting both Sean and Rae's confidence at the same time, but that just can't be helped.
"It doesn't matter how I know," I shrug. "I just know."
My dad braces himself against the bar's edge and Father Lindsay has to put a hand on his shoulder to restrain him. "You just know."
"Yep."
He shakes his head furiously. "That's not good enough. What you're messin' with here—you don't know what you're really up against. Whatever you think you know, whatever plan you think you have...you can't do it, Jack; you just can't."
I fold my arms across my chest defiantly. He's nothing but a hypocrite, a liar, and a deserter.
"I think we're past the point where you get to tell me what to do, Pop."
My dad rears back in shock while Father Lindsay runs a hand over his fading hair.
"Where is this coming from?" my dad asks, despite his priest's pointed side-eyed glance. "You've never been such a cocky little pissant to me before—your brothers never had a problem with it, but you, Jack? This isn't you. This is...I don't know what this is."
Maybe I get to be a cocky little pissant, I think bitterly. Maybe I get it now. Finally.
Still, I stand stoic behind the bar with my arms folded across my chest. There's really nothing to say. Nothing that would change my mind anyway.
Father Lindsay sighs heavily in front of me, dips his head down, and glances at my dad. "Tell him, Roark. It's time."
It took us too long to get to this place, but here we are. Part of me wishes Rae was here, too, because she deserves it more than I do. But then again, I don't know if I ever want her anywhere near Roark Callahan on principle alone. He doesn't deserve to stand in front of her and finally admit something he should've admitted 27 years ago.
But, as with all things in life, it doesn't exactly go the way I expect when Roark Callahan opens his mouth again.
I FEEL LIKE I've been walking for hours. It's almost June now and the weather feels ready for it, humid and itchy despite the fact that it's nearly 11 at night, bursting at the seams with new beginnings and second chances. I feel that too.
Somehow, my blind trek away from the bar led me to the red line on Broadway and then I'd just followed instinct from there. Maybe I'd known where I was heading this whole time; I just didn't see it until now.
After I got off the red line on Park, I walked and walked with my hands solemnly in my pockets and my head facing down. It's no accident that I've managed to hike all the way over to Back Bay even though my truck could've taken me there faster. Walking through the city streets where I'd grown up with so much love and devotion...reconciling that now and letting it go is the hardest thing I've ever done.
Nothing is ever quite what it seems. That much I know. No matter what you believe to be true, there's always the underlying possibility that your truth is nothing more than a carefully constructed story structured to keep you under someone else's thumb.
My truth is this: I want to fight on Sunday so I can get that deed. I want to fight on Sunday so I can beat the Gianottis at their own game. I want to fight on Sunday because that, in the end, is exactly what Roark Callahan deserves. I want to fight on Sunday because I finally know how Sean felt all those years ago when he looked our dad in the eye, asked him for the truth, and received nothing in return.
I understand that recklessness because I'm living it now.
And most of all, I want to fight on Sunday because I want Rae to know I won.
It's amazing how much the course of your life can change in ten minutes. That was all it took. In that short span of time to everything I thought I knew ripped wide open. Disillusionment and clarity can make you do some pretty reckless things, but I don't find myself retreating. I find myself moving forward instead.
So here I am. An idiot. An enlightened fool. Nothing but a terrified asshat hoping the only thing good in his life will give him the time of day.
The door opens a few moments later and my
heart—God, my heart—vaults right into my throat. Surprise colors her pretty face and she sweeps some of that auburn hair behind her ear as her lips dip into a frown.
"Hey," I exhale breathlessly and lean both palms on her doorframe.
"Hi."
Rae blinks a few times before I hear a low growl behind her and she bends down to scoop up that psychotic black cat. Those yellow eyes glint back at me, narrowing with contempt as if to say, I know why you're here, guy, and I. Don't. Like. It.
Ah well. The thing is just going to have to get used to me.
When Rae comes back to the door after hiding the monster in her bedroom, she doesn't look any less confused than she did before. Not to mention suspicious as all hell that I'm here now, especially after the last time we spoke. I guess I better remedy that.
"Can I come in?"
She hesitates for just a moment and I can't blame her. I earned that.
"Sure," she nods finally and steps aside so I can breeze through the threshold. That frown is still written all over her face as she leans against her kitchen counter, her eyes following my movements carefully, like she can't believe I'm really here. I sort of can't believe it either.
"What's wrong, Jack?"
"Nothing," I shrug and then spread my arms out with a sharp laugh. "Everything. Nothing and everything is wrong."
"Okay."
It's probably best if I just start at the beginning.
"I got a visit from Roark Callahan and Father Lindsay today," I start heavily and I don't miss the way her eyes flash at how I spit out their names. Calling him my dad, my pop, just doesn't feel right today. I don't know if it will ever feel right again. "They don't want me to fight on Sunday. Big surprise, huh? Anyway, it got to a point where I thought he might actually tell me the truth—the truth about him, your mom, and everything we don't know about them. Instead, I got a very different truth."