The Best Part of Me

by Jamie Hollins

  She would be lying if she said she wasn’t completely shocked by what he’d told her earlier. She still couldn’t picture him doing all those things he said he’d done, but that was probably the part of her that didn’t want to believe him.

  In that moment, she’d come to the conclusion that all those horrible things he’d done didn’t matter to her. And in the hours that had passed since she’d learned about it all, she had given it more thought, and she still came to the same conclusion.

  She still loved him. What he’d done back then didn’t change that.

  Quinn just wished he loved her back.

  She took a sip of her forgotten tea, which had turned lukewarm. Quinn placed the mug on the coffee table and stared out the back window into darkness. She could hear the faint inhale of her aunt’s snoring from down the hall.

  She wondered what her mother would say to her right now. How would she comfort her daughter, whose heart had been shattered? She felt so alone. She didn’t have her parents, and she’d lost Ewan too.

  She laid her head on the arm of the couch and traced the geometric patterns on the living room rug with her eyes. She felt them growing heavier and heavier.

  Quinn woke slowly, picking her head up off the arm of the couch, and squinted into the sunny kitchen to look at the clock over the stove.

  Nine o’clock.

  She stood up and stretched. The muscles in her neck protested as she circled her shoulders. The couch wasn’t very comfortable to sit on, let alone sleep on.

  She was just about to muddle down the hall toward her bedroom and crawl back into bed when her cousin came through the porch door.

  “Hey, Quinn. I’m surprised you’re still in your pajamas. Usually you’re working in the backyard by this time.”

  “I finished the backyard a couple days ago. Where were you so early this morning?”

  He shrugged. “I had to take an amp over to Tommie’s place. I was going to make some coffee. You want some?”

  “No, thanks. I think I’m gonna go back to bed.”

  “Honestly, I’m surprised to see you sleeping here. I’d have thought you’d be sleeping over at Ewan’s. Sean told me last night was his night off.”

  The ache in her chest that had quieted since last night returned. She slowly shook her head. “Ewan and I aren’t really together anymore.”

  Rory looked at her with surprise. “Since when?”

  “A few weeks ago.” Things had ended back then; he’d just made them official last night.

  “Are you okay?”

  She put on a brave face. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied. She felt her eyes start to get warm.

  Rory frowned but nodded.

  “I fell asleep on the couch last night. I’m gonna crawl back into bed.”

  “Sleep well,” her cousin said as she turned to head down the hall.

  Her trip to her bedroom was once again interrupted by the porch door flying open. This time it was Erin, and she had a panicked look on her face.

  “Did you guys hear the news?”

  Quinn shook her head in confusion as Rory replied, “No, what news?”

  “Someone set the pub on fire last night.”

  ###

  Ewan’s weary eyes blinked against the sun’s blinding morning rays as he sped along the freeway into Boston.

  He was tired and drained. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this exhausted.

  There was black soot covering the knuckles on both his hands, and the smell of smoke permeated every piece of fabric and upholstery in his truck’s interior.

  The reminder of his early-morning activities only fueled his rage, and he pressed his foot down a little heavier on the accelerator.

  The fire had started just after closing time early this morning. After his talk with Sean, Ewan had been filled with a sort of eager hopefulness. He’d decided he was going to talk to Quinn. To tell her how he felt about her. He’d go over first thing the next morning and make her understand that he didn’t want her going anywhere.

  With a renewed sense of optimism he hadn’t felt in…well, ever…he’d gone downstairs to help his uncle and his cousin clean up for the night.

  They’d all been behind the bar when the front windows shattered. Ewan hadn’t had time to process what was happening because whatever had been thrown through the windows exploded when it hit the floor. The explosions were enough to knock Ewan, Sean, and his uncle to the ground.

  Fire had quickly licked at the old wooden floorboards and up the walls. The entire front of the pub had been engulfed in flames. Sean and Ewan had raced for the fire extinguishers while his uncle had called 911. By the time the fire department had arrived, they’d extinguished the fire, but they hadn’t been in time to save the front entrance of the pub.

  Black charred window frames were now the only things separating the inside of the pub from the street. The floor was ruined, and the old stone fireplace had turned a filthy charcoal. The ceiling panels had burned, but luckily the fire hadn’t reached the wooden beams separating the ground floor from the second story, where Ewan’s apartment was.

  Thank God no one was hurt. And thank God the three of them were there when it had happened or it could have been a lot worse.

  Still, the fact that they’d minimized the damage as best they could did nothing to lessen Ewan’s anger and determination as he crossed the Boston city limits. He maneuvered his truck down side lanes, heading toward Marlborough Street in Beacon Hill.

  The sun shined brightly as Ewan parked his black truck on the side of the street. As he walked toward a house he hadn’t been to in over six years, his heart pounded. And with each heartbeat, his resolution grew stronger.

  He took the brownstone’s front steps two at a time and rang the bell. The few people who passed by stared at him. They were dressed in their Sunday best on their way to church. He looked like a chimney sweep, and he was knocking on the door to a sanctuary of sorts, but it was far from a church.

  The brownstone’s front door opened, and an older gentleman in a dark suit stood there.

  “May I help you?”

  Ewan cleared his throat. “My name is Ewan McKenna. I’d like to talk with Oliver Madigan if he’s available.”

  The doorman shook his head. “He is currently in a meeting, but I will tell him you stopped by.”

  The older man moved to close the door, but Ewan reached out and stopped it. “Please let him know I’ll be happy to wait.” And with that, Ewan turned his back and sat down on the top step.

  “Very well,” he heard the doorman say before he closed the door.

  This madness with the Madigans had to stop. Last night, as fireman and police officers had kicked through the remains of the pub’s charred entrance, Ewan had stood on the street looking on helplessly at the carnage. He’d heard a car door open, and when he’d looked down the street toward the Blue Hills, he’d seen Keith Hardy and a few other men getting into a black SUV.

  Hardy had grinned before sliding into the front passenger seat and slamming the door.

  Ewan had watched as the SUV sped off. He had a few options, but only one of them was the right answer. He could race to his truck and hope he could catch up to the SUV and beat the shit out of the occupants of the vehicle. He could run inside and notify the police that the arsonist had just sped off down the road and let them try to catch up with them. Or he could make this dreaded trip into Boston and get to the root of the problem.

  The first scenario would result in jail time. The second scenario might result in jail time for Keith and his boys but still wouldn’t get the Madigans off his back. So that left the third option.

  He’d thought he was done with them. He’d made it clear to them six years ago that he was done. Adam had shaken his hand and agreed. Oliver had sat in on their meeting and given his consent as well.

  Adam Madigan was obviously not on the same page as he was. He could only hope Oliver Madigan was.

  Ewan waited as he looked across the
street to a giant park. This was one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in all of Boston. And there he sat, sooty and reeking of smoke, tarnishing the family-friendly vibe and getting stares from everyone who passed.

  Ewan didn’t give a fuck.

  Hopefully, Oliver would listen to him. But if this didn’t work, he’d have to do something that would make the Madigans listen. More than likely, he’d go to the police. He didn’t care if he got jail time for what he’d done six years ago. This had to stop.

  He didn’t want to constantly wonder if Keith Hardy or Adam Madigan would waltz into the pub and demand his cooperation in some misguided corrupt game they were playing. He deserved better than that.

  Quinn deserved better than that.

  She was the reason he was here.

  If he and Quinn were to have a real chance, he needed to clear his name from the Madigans’ little black book. Stony determination pulsed within his chest.

  He only sat there for twenty minutes before he heard the door open behind him. When he rose and turned, he was surprised to see Oliver Madigan himself at the door. The older man, whom Ewan had always gotten along with, started to smile when he must have noticed the state of Ewan’s appearance.

  “Good God, what happened to you?” he asked, his voice sounding genuinely concerned. He looked older yet, in some ways, younger. Ewan had heard that the old man's health had gotten better. Retirement must be treating the former head of the family well. He looked fit in his khakis and white polo shirt. His hair, inky as it had been when Oliver was young, wasn’t thinning in the least. But the most notable change was the smile lines on the older man’s face.

  “I’m fine, Mr. Madigan. But I’d like to have a word with you if you have time.”

  The man slowly nodded and opened the door farther. “Come in. Let’s talk in my study.”

  Ewan entered the brownstone and didn’t bother to let Oliver lead the way. He knew the way to the study. He’d been there several times. He stopped quickly inside the room when he realized they weren’t alone. Adam Madigan leaned against his father’s desk, a grim smile spreading across his face.

  “Ewan. Good to see you.”

  He pulled a breath in through his nose, trying to stamp down the fury that boiled inside of him at the sight of the cocksucker responsible for setting his pub on fire.

  “Ewan, do you mind if Adam stays for our meeting?” Oliver asked as he rounded his desk to sit in his massive leatherback chair.

  “No, not at all,” Ewan replied. He returned his focus to the older man. The man he’d come here to talk to.

  “Won’t you have a seat?” Oliver gestured to the chair next to where Adam had sat down.

  “I don’t intend to stay long, Mr. Madigan. If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to stand.”

  “Very well. What can I do for you?”

  “A little over two months ago, I was approached by an employee of the Madigan family to assist in an assignment in Hartford. I’m sure you can imagine my surprise, especially in the manner in which I was approached, because I cut ties amicably with your family six years ago.”

  The older man sat silently without responding.

  Ewan went on. “After I turned down the assignment, I was approached again, this time by Keith Hardy at my place of employment. I once again turned down the assignment, which resulted in a brawl that cleared out my barroom and negatively impacted my family’s business.”

  Still no reaction from the retired head of the Madigan family.

  “Adam then approached me himself and tried to coerce me to help. Again I refused. He informed me that the agreement that we struck in this very room with the three of us present six years ago meant nothing. That I was indebted to your family for the rest of my life.”

  Oliver glanced momentarily over at Adam before returning his eyes to Ewan.

  “Early this morning, gasoline bombs were thrown through my family’s pub’s front windows. The fire destroyed the front of the building as well as a portion of the interior on the ground floor. We will be inoperable until it is fixed, which will be a minimum of seven weeks.” Ewan took a step toward the desk, where both Madigan men were staring at him. “I hope you can see where I am coming from. My family has worked tireless hours to make a way for themselves here in the United States just as your family has done. Mr. Madigan, during my time in your employment, I worked hard. When Adam took over, I continued to work hard for him out of respect for you, sir. I need to know if you too feel that the agreement that we struck six years ago in this room meant nothing.”

  Ewan’s chest rose and fell quickly as he watched Oliver Madigan appraise him. After what seemed like forever, Oliver looked at his son.

  “I thought I told you to forget about Hartford.”

  Adam waited a moment before replying to his father, “It’s been abandoned.”

  His father nodded. “Effective when?”

  The son swallowed. “Effective right now.”

  Oliver Madigan narrowed his eyes at Adam as his lips thinned out. “Were you responsible for what happened to Ewan’s pub?”

  Adam smiled weakly and shook his head. “I was attending Corinne’s dance recital last night. I’m afraid Ewan must be mistaken.”

  Before Ewan could reply, Oliver asked, “Did you give the order for what happened to Ewan’s pub? And please recall what happened the last time you lied to me.”

  Adam’s smiled slipped as he stared back at his father. Ewan would have paid quite a bit of money to find out what had happened the last time Adam had lied to Oliver. But that wasn’t the reason he was here.

  Eventually, Adam gave a short nod. “Yes.”

  Ewan saw a twitch in the side of the older man’s jaw. “Ewan, it appears as though we owe you an apology.” He pulled a notepad from his top desk drawer and scribbled something on it before handing it to Ewan. “Here is the name of our accountant. Please have your insurance company send over the final amount of damages, and he’ll take care of it.”

  Ewan nodded, folding the piece of paper and stuffing it in his back pocket. “And our agreement, sir?”

  “Our agreement stands. I wish we had more men like you, Ewan, instead of the riffraff my son currently employs.” Oliver gave a pointed look at his son before continuing. “You have my word that you won’t be troubled any more by members of our organization.” He was still staring at Adam as he said it. Adam looked to his lap and nodded.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your time. I’ll see myself out.”

  Ewan didn’t wait for a response from either man. He walked out of the brownstone as quickly as he could. Once back in his truck, he shoved the transmission into drive and began to navigate the maze of streets to get out of the city.

  He felt like a man just released from prison.

  Ewan stared straight ahead as he paused at stop signs and red lights, finally making his way back to the interstate. Things at home were in shambles, but he couldn’t do anything about that right now.

  But there was one thing he was desperate to correct. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  Chapter 25

  The cool, brisk air felt good going into Quinn’s lungs. It was past dusk, and she ambled off the porch to walk along the flagstone path underneath her aunt’s pergola. The light of the moon was bright, its glow more than enough to see where she was going.

  It had been a few days since she’d tended the garden. It'd been raining so much lately. And then suddenly, this morning the sun had come out and started to dry out the earth. The change in temperature was so drastic and the humidity so unusually high a low-lying fog blanketed the ground.

  When she got to the garden, she sighed. She had to admit that she’d worked a miracle in her aunt’s backyard. The pergola was beautiful, and her aunt said the garden looked much healthier than it had in years past. She breathed in the heavy scent of turned soil as she bent forward, running her fingers along the new beans that were almost ready to be harvested.

  Her heart still a
ched just as much as it had last night and this morning. When Erin had burst in saying the pub had caught fire, Quinn’s first reaction was to run to the pub to make sure Ewan was okay. She’d even grabbed her coat by the door before she’d stopped herself. Regardless of what Ewan had said to her last night, it didn’t stop the fact that she still had feelings for him. But at the last moment, she’d decided not to go. He had enough to worry about at the pub, and her showing up would just be a bother to him.

  She hurt for him. She could imagine he must be devastated about the pub. But her heart was tender and on the way to being numb, and she had to look out for herself too. The logical side of her reasoned that if the person she loved couldn’t return her love, then what was the point in the long run? The emotional side of her didn’t care.

  She walked past the tomato plants and inspected the cabbage. They were growing nicely but wouldn’t be ready to harvest for at least another month. If only her relationship with Ewan worked the same way as vegetables. They planted the seed, cared for and nurtured it, and eventually their love could be harvested so the whole world could see how beautiful it was. But she couldn’t really care less about the whole world if Ewan couldn’t even see it himself.

  She sighed, shaking the pitying thoughts from her head.

  “Quinn.”

  She held her breath as she turned toward the deep rumble of her name, knowing even before she saw him who it was. Ewan was approaching cautiously, his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. Her breath rushed out at the sight of him in his white long-sleeved T-shirt that glowed in the moonlight. His hair was slightly more unkempt than usual.

  He stopped a few feet away from her, and she immediately wished he would come closer. But the memory of his rejection was now doing battle with her growing pleasure in seeing him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He looked toward the house and then back to her. “I was hoping to see you. I debated whether or not to throw rocks at your window like you see in old American films, but I didn’t want to scare you.”