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“You don’t know who will be watching the graves, Lily,” he’d always said. “I can’t let you go. If they thought for one second you were still alive, there’s only one place they know you would go. You’re staying here.”
But whether or not they were sure I was alive, I couldn’t stop myself from walking in that direction—as if I was being pulled toward the headstones that marked numerous O’Sullivans and other men and women who had pledged their loyalty to the Holloway Gang throughout the generations.
My fingers trailed over the tops of the stones of the names I knew, and lingered on Georgie’s for a few seconds before I turned toward the row I’d come for, and found three marble slabs lined up.
I faltered for only a second when my mind couldn’t immediately process the extra two headstones there, but my steps became slow and unsure as I got close enough to make out the names and dates etched into the stones.
Each movement I made was suddenly difficult as I realized I’d been wrong . . . all of this was wrong.
I looked at the slab on the left, marking my brother’s grave, and felt an old ache deep in my chest. It was one I’d seen dozens of times—had visited so often growing up.
Aiden and Aric had been ten, I’d been eight, when two members of the Borello Gang had slipped into one of our parties and started shooting.
They were taken out, but not before six of our own had died—including Aiden.
Both Kieran’s dad and my dad had left immediately, and hadn’t come back until the morning with news that the mafia’s leader was dead.
Retaliation. It was what happened between the Borellos and us.
Guess it was naïve of me to think that someday the killing would end.
The two marble slabs next to Aiden’s that I’d never seen before should have told me that.
Because I’d thought it was over until the night Aric had been murdered twelve years later.
I took a shuddering breath in and finally looked at the other headstones.
My breath rushed out and my knees threatened to give from u
nder me.
The ache in seeing Aric’s name made the hurt feel too fresh—too new. I wanted to apologize a hundred times for what happened to him. Why it happened.
If only I hadn’t screamed that night . . .
But no words came. And no tears fell. Because I couldn’t take my eyes off the headstone on the right.
The one that made my head light and the world spin.
The one that made me feel all wrong.
Because I was still alive. But a living person should never have to look at what I was seeing then.
Deep down I knew I should’ve been there with my brothers—I should’ve been there in Aric’s place.
Kieran had said he was trying to prevent someone from recognizing me at the cemetery . . . I should have known he was lying. Should have known he was protecting me from the shock I now felt.
Because he’d known saying goodbye was something I would never be prepared for—not when this was what I would be met with. Not when seeing a headstone meant for me made me feel so lost. Displaced.
Not when I was now desperately struggling to find the cord that kept me tethered to earth.
Forcing my stare away from the headstone, I rushed through the cemetery and back to Holloway Estate.
I pulled the glasses off my face and prayed I wasn’t seen by anyone, shoving them into my bag as I ran. But as soon as I crossed onto the property line near my house, the night with Dare and the pain in my chest from the cemetery was quickly forgotten.
Something wasn’t right.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and my heart rate slowed. Everything seemed so loud, but there was no sound.
