CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Rian
I bend forward to kiss him again, just before someone clears his throat…Cillian.
For a second, I stiffen, having forgotten that there was anyone in the room with us. All I’ve thought about is Abbott since the moment I realized he was missing.
We hadn’t had time to figure out what we were stepping into. All that had mattered was Abbott’s safety. The governor had only had a few men with him, who were easy to deal with, while Conan and I snuck into the house from the back.
When I’d walked in and seen that motherfucker with a gun on Abbott, it had taken everything inside of me not to lose control. My body is still shaking with the adrenaline and fear that nearly corroded my insides when I saw them…when I think about how close I came to losing him.
“Want to introduce me or what?” Cillian asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
Yes. That’s probably a good idea. Making out with the partner my son has never met is bad etiquette, but I just…don’t want to stop touching him.
“Rian, get up,” Abbott says, only for me.
I roll off him, and he immediately tries to stand. I pull him back down, eyes shooting toward the windows, and tug him against the wall, like how the others are now standing. He sways on his feet, and I’m there, holding him, steadying him. I’ll never let him go again if I don’t have to.
“I’m fine,” he says, but I don’t let go of his hand as we both give our attention to Cillian, who’s watching us—his studying gaze familiar because I know I often wear the same one. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for us to meet this way. Thank you…for coming with your dad…to…rescue me.” Abbott closes his eyes. “Jesus. I’m an idiot.” He opens them again. “I’m not usually like this, I swear. I just…”
“Shh.” I kiss his temple. “It’s been a big day.” I have similar emotions wreaking havoc on my insides, but I’m a little more used to some of this than he is.
“I’m Abbott,” he says again, while Cillian continues to watch us. The longer it goes, the tighter the knots in my gut twist.
Did he change his mind? Is it different now that he’s seeing me with someone else? “Cillian?” I ask.
And then—just as my nape tickles, that familiar sensation that I’ve only gotten because of Moira or Abbott—Cillian reaches up and rubs the back of his neck at the same time as I do…and it hits me. Maybe none of this is because of Abbott at all. I mean, it is, but it also isn’t. Maybe it was just Moira all along telling me…yes. Him. He’s the one. And now she’s telling Cillian too.
“It’s her,” I say.
“What is?” Cillian asks.
“That. What you’re feeling. It’s her. I feel it too.” She wants us to know it’s okay. That this is the way it’s supposed to be…that she loves us and wants us happy, and it’s okay to move on.
Cillian holds my gaze for a second, then two and three. His eyes get glassy. I give him a nod, and he wipes them before looking at Abbott.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, shaking Abbott’s hand. “Thanks for making my dad…less miserable.”
I smile. “Less miserable? That’s the best you can do?”
“In case you didn’t notice, we were in the middle of a life-or-death situation here. It was the first thing that came to mind.” He gives his attention back to Abbott. “Thank you for making him happy. It’s been a long time since he has been. It’s what my mom would want…it’s what I want.”
“I…thank you,” Abbott says. “He makes me happy too, and I don’t know that I’ve ever been happy before him. At least not since my mom died.”
Hearing Abbott say that fills me up, but at the same time, I wonder what the fuck is wrong with everyone else. How no one has seen how fucking incredible this man is. The man with the world’s biggest heart, who saves lives, but has somehow found it in himself to love me, even though I take them.
But now isn’t the time. We have a lot to figure out.
“We need to figure out what the fuck to do here,” I say.
“This isn’t a normal body. This is the governor of the fucking state,” Conan adds. “People are going to notice him missing.”
“I wanted to kill him myself,” I growl, looking down at the motherfucker, flashes of him pointing a gun at Abbott playing through my head. “He was supposed to be mine.”
“He…it was him. I don’t understand why he tried to have me killed,” Abbott says.
I look at the others in the room, giving them a silent warning, making sure they don’t tell him the rest of it. He needs to know, but not now. That should be done when it’s just the two of us.