Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“You mean the fact that you’re seeing someone?” he asks, amusement in his tone.
I’m not going to lie, my chest gets tight. “How do you…”
“Lucky guess, is all. You’ve sounded different these past couple of weeks, happier. I recognize the sound of falling in love. Even all these years later, I remember it well.”
Emotion clogs my throat, and I know we’re both thinking of Mom. God, I miss her, love her. I wish Cillian could have met her. “I’m sorry.”
“What? You have no reason to be sorry. It’s nice to remember, and it’s nice to hear the happiness in your voice. Tell me about him.”
So I do. I tell Dad his name and how close he is to his family. That his cousins are his best friends, and he has another friend who’s like a brother to him, and how Cillian would do anything for them. I share that he lost his mom too and hasn’t played piano since she passed away, and that I want him to find his music again. I tell him Cillian likes to laugh, is a caretaker, and a hard worker, all of which is true.
“He sounds like a good boy,” my dad says when I’m done.
My answer comes out quick and honest, “He is, but…he’s different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Different from who you would expect for me. He was raised in a way I don’t understand. He’s made a lot of mistakes in his life.”
“I don’t think that sounds different from whom I would expect you to fall in love with at all. You have a big heart, Ollie. You see deeply into people, more deeply than others take the time to look. You don’t judge them. Sometimes you think you do, but I’m telling you, you don’t. Not when it matters. You see the good in people, and you help them see it too, just like your mom did. She was always looking out for the underdog, and you’ve always done the same.”
Have I? It didn’t feel like it. And it’s not that I would consider Cillian an underdog in the traditional sense of the word, but in some ways, he is. Cillian’s destiny was decided for him by his father, and by his father’s father, and now he’s doing the best he can.
“Is he good to you?” my dad asks.
“Yes. Very much.”
“Do you trust him?”
“With my life.”
“He loves you too?”
“He does. And that’s a big deal for him. He didn’t want that. He was afraid of it because of what it did to him and his dad when they lost his mom.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but he picked the right boy to risk his heart. Those things I just asked you, those are the questions that matter. Everything else can be dealt with. If your mama was here, there’s not a damn obstacle in this world I would let stand between us.”
My eyes pool with tears, a few escaping, running down my face. I wipe them away. This is exactly why I called him. It’s exactly what I needed to hear. Maybe his answer would be different if he knew the truth about who Cillian is, but maybe it wouldn’t. To me, what matters is who he is beneath all the other stuff. “Thank you, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you too, Ollie. Now send me a photo with you and that boy of yours. I’d love to meet him.”
Would Cillian be willing to go home for Christmas with me? Is that something he’s even able to do?
Everything else can be dealt with, I remind myself. “Hopefully soon,” I say. I’ll ask Cillian later, and if there’s any way he can make it happen, I know he will. For me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Cillian
“We need more coke,” Tiernan tells me as the two of us finish taking inventory.
It’s been a few days since he called for me and Rory to head to Boston with him. I’d come home with a busted lip after helping deal with some motherfuckers who came into our city and thought they could set up shop. They were amateurs who didn’t know what they were doing, and it had felt like a waste of time.
“I’m surprised how slowly the molly is going this year.” I close the cabinet I’d been checking and lock it. I turn around and lean against it, watching Tiernan as he watches me.
“What’s up? Your boy upset about the other night?” he asks, clearly knowing I want to talk to him.
“He’s okay. He just worries. He’s not used to this shit, ya know? He’s not like Dean was.” I pause before continuing, “Thank you for letting him stay. I know I gave you shit about Dean in the beginning. I didn’t trust him, and I didn’t want him here, so thanks for being chill about Ollie…even after the threat is gone. I know you don’t have to let him stay here.”