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“No. I want to beat the fuck out of him too, Jasper.” Virgil turned to look at Cal. “More than any fucking thing right now.”
Terry’s hand landed on my shoulder, and he stood beside me, the way he always had. Good or bad or ugly as fuck, Terry had been at my side for all of it since before we had hair on our nuts.
“He’s your dumb as fuck kid brother, and he did a fucked-up thing that’ll he will have to pay for, but above all else, he’s your goddamn brother.”
My shoulders fell, the last of my steam gone at Terry’s words. I couldn’t kill my brother for trying to kill my mother. That was some fucked up Shakespearean type of shit. We were Ashbys, Irish and angry and drunk and deadly, but not Shakespearean.
“Fine,” I growled and shrugged Terry’s arm off me. “He’s right,” I told Cal, fire still burning up inside of me. “You owe Terry your fucking life, and I never, ever want you to forget that shit.”
Cal nodded but stayed silent
“But I want you to think about one thing. Think about how you’ll feel if Sadie doesn’t wake up again.”
His eyes flashed with surprise. “She woke up?”
He didn’t deserve an answer, and even if he did, no updates would come from me. Not for him.
“How will you feel if you accomplish your goal and Sadie dies. Is that what Ava Rose deserves? Is that what Kat and Maisie and the kids they’ll have deserve?”
“She’s not gonna fuckin’ die,” Virgil growled, his beefy hands curled into fists.
Cal dropped his head. “She’s not going to die.” He whispered those words to himself over and over again, like a mantra, maybe a fucking prayer he thought could save his life if she did die.
“Sit the fuck down. Everybody,” I growled. It was too goddamn early in the morning for this shit.
Twenty minutes later, we all sat around the large table as it began to fill up with scrambled eggs, toast and croissants, bacon, and even fruit. The staff said nothing about Cal’s bloody face, my swollen knuckles, or the state of the dining room when they arrived with breakfast.
“Thank you,” I told them. “That will be all.”
I waited until the dining room was empty except for my brothers and me. The door shut behind the main housekeeper, and we all piled our plates with food, glasses full of orange juice for some and whiskey for others.
“All right, now that shit is all done, are we all ready to talk like fucking adults? There are too many goddamn secrets in this family for too goddamn long. It’s time to lay it all out so we can move forward as a cohesive fucking unit.”
“Sure,” Cal growled and shoved three strips of bacon in his mouth.
“You remember the beatings? Remember me and Virgil sending you to your room and telling you those games worked better with headphones?”
He nodded and let out a long sigh. “Yeah. I thought you guys were just trying to have fun without me.”
“That’s what we wanted you to think,” Virgil growled.
“But I was too curious, and I snuck up to the door, so I heard some of the fights, but I was too young to understand.” His eyes took on a faraway look as if he was searching his memory for details his kid brain hadn’t understood or was unable to process. Cal had plenty of book smarts, but we crippled him by not letting him earn some street smarts.
It was a choice Virgil and I made together, still kids ourselves, but we knew enough about the world to keep Calvin safe.
“By the time you were old enough to start playing sports or other activities, Colm was fat and happy. His debts were paid, thanks to us, so he wasn’t angry as often. The beatings slowed.”
Cal shook his head. “But they didn’t stop.”
“I know you’re angry, Cal, but we tried to keep you safe. I didn’t know about the beatings, but I should have.” I should have known that a bully like Colm wouldn’t just be satisfied to be rolling in dough, debts paid, and more power in the underworld than he deserved.
“You should have told me.”
“We didn’t fucking tell each other,” Virgil boomed. “We just decided, without fucking talking about it, that you needed to be protected. We found that fucking computer club and dug into the teacher with the squeaky clean record and encouraged you to do that instead of sports.”
“You had no right,” he insisted weakly.
“We didn’t,” I agreed. “But we were kids too, Cal. We did what we thought was best to protect you. Be pissed off all you want, but it’s done. You don’t have the nightmares or the anger. You got to be as normal as it’s possible to be in this life, so you’re fucking welcome.”
