Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Each and every word he speaks is like another knife stabbing into my chest, though each and every word is one I deserve. “I know…fuck, I know. But I’ve always loved you. I never stopped loving you.”
“I know that too. Just…let me get this out,” he says, pushing away from the desk and pacing the room. “I can’t forget the past—the good or the bad—I can’t forgive you for hurting me, but I’m tired of the runaround. From fucking both of us. We’re just talking in circles. You’re sorry you rarely call and don’t come here, so fucking change it. And I do the same shit. It took Shai needing you for me to call, and I still rarely do. You were fucking shot, and I didn’t come see you. We just need to stop talking about it and fucking fix it.”
Jesus, this kid. When I’d told Abbott he was better than me, I wasn’t lying. I don’t know how I got lucky enough to have him as my son.
“With Ollie now…I get it more. I would lose my fucking mind if something happened to him. I would do a whole lot worse than you did when we lost Mom.”
“Don’t excuse the mistakes I made.”
“I’m not. You were wrong. You hurt me. You’re responsible for that, but I can know that and get it too…because I think…I think I love just like you. It’s just too fucking big, right?”
He does. We do. He gets that from me, and while I don’t ever want him to hurt because of it, I’m proud we share that trait. “Yes,” I answer.
“And that’s why you’re here right now? You met someone?”
I stiffen, gaze shooting to his, which is firmly on me. I don’t know why I didn’t expect him to know. Cillian is smart…he pays attention…and now he’s the second person to remind me of how similar we really are. Of course he would know.
“Yes,” I answer. “His name is Abbott.”
“He?” Cillian cocks a brow.
“Runs in the family, I guess.” I shrug. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t think I could ever find space in my heart for someone again but…it’s just right. I felt it the first time I looked at him, though I didn’t understand it.”
“That’s how it felt with Ollie too,” he admits. “It was just right. How did you meet?”
“He’s a surgeon. I saw him when I was at the hospital, and I went back and, well, I followed him.”
“No shit?” Cillian asks.
“No shit,” I reply. “He caught me when he was walking to his vehicle…confronted me, much like Ollie did, I might add, and that’s when I was shot. I kidnapped him and brought him with me to the cabin, and it just…happened. He’s good, son. Better than me. Though she was too.”
“And Ollie is better than me. I think that’s always going to be true for men like us. And we’re lucky if we find someone who sees past all the shit and loves us anyway. He does?”
“Yes,” I answer again. “But it’s important to me that you know this doesn’t change who your mom was to me. I will always love Moira. She was…everything good about me…and then you both were. I love her, but I’m tired.” I rub a hand over my face. “And so fucking alone. The pain is less when he’s there.”
Cillian takes a moment to reply, maybe going over his words in his head. “Yeah, the pain is less when Ollie is here too. Mom would have hated you hurting and being alone.”
“She would have,” I answer honestly. “I wasn’t ready before, and I don’t think I would be ready now if it weren’t for him. But I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to think that diminishes what I felt for your mom.”
“I know.” Cillian walks over to one of the windows and looks out. I wish I could be inside his brain, know exactly what he’s thinking. “Would she have liked him?”
I smile. “She would. He’s got a big heart, like her. He loves classical music and going to the symphony…we have that in common. I’ve been thinking about opening a concert hall…bringing more music to the city, and I’m thinking of asking Abbott to help.”
He turns back to me then, and even from across the room, I can see the glassiness in his eyes. “She would love that…the music. Him sharing that with you.”
“She would,” I admit, then walk over to him. “I love you. And I’m so proud of the man you are…the way you love.”
He shrugs. “I get it from you,” he reminds me.
“I don’t think you would make the same mistakes as me, though.”
“You’re not wrong.” Cillian grins, and I do the same. “I can’t believe you have a boyfriend.”
“We haven’t put that kind of name on it.” I chuckle. “Boyfriend,” I test it out. “I feel too old for that word.”