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As much as I loved seeing Declan, I had to admit—Finn fascinated me.
Not because he was beautiful, which he was. As an artist, I had to appreciate that there was something about him that took him up a level. Aoife was definitely a lucky lady. But there was something undeniable. Indefatigable.
Something that I’d never heard rumors about, which meant either Aidan Sr. had squashed them into dust a long time ago, or… well, nobody had ever figured it out.
It didn’t seem likely.
In fact, it seemed impossible. I couldn’t be the only one who saw the similarities, could I?
As I studied a picture that had my lips twitching when I took note of Conor shoving an ice cream cone in Declan’s hair, I wasn’t surprised when someone came to stand behind me.
I thought it’d be Declan or Seamus. Hadn’t expected it would be Aidan Sr.
Never turn your back on an enemy…
“Lena always had her camera stuck to her when they were boys,” he said softly, reminiscently. “And that was before the day of the iPhone, where every single picture had to be processed. Some would be ruined, some would be exposed, the film might be damaged… it mattered to her.”
“I can see that.” I cut him a look. “I’ll get some pictures of Seamus to you for the wall.”
He arched a brow, but he registered that I was on the same page as him. “It would be a kindness. She likes to document everything.”
“That much is clear,” I mused. “There a reason?”
“Her mother had Alzheimer’s. She’s terrified she’ll get it too and forget them.”
I’d never deny that the O’Donnellys were held up as monarchs of an unofficial kingdom, but hearing that humanized Lena in a way I couldn’t have expected.
She was the ice queen.
She ruled over the Five Points, just a step behind Aidan, making sure he kept his head. The cold to his intense heat that burned and burned, never seeming to drain, impossible to extinguish.
Everyone knew of his mercurial tempers, the moods that could see him fell a dozen enemies in a knife fight. He was lethal.
Deadly.
But I was looking at a picture of him in a drenched suit with a bunch of boys giggling around him after they’d, quite clearly, pushed him in a pool that gleamed behind them.
It was an insight into people who were revered—and feared—as gods.
Unnerving.
“If you’re going to give me crap about Seamus, don’t bother,” I warned softly, my focus still on the photos.
“Leave the girl alone, Aidan,” Lena chided, slipping up behind me with a silence that jolted me.
“I was merely conversing with her. She’s interested in the pictures. Said she’ll give you some.”
“Oh!” Her voice changed. Morphing from concerned and a little chastising, to surprised and excited. “That would be lovely.”
“I have many,” I told her with a genuine smile. “I wasn’t as prolific with a camera as you, but I certainly took enough to drive him crazy.”
“The boys were used to it. I took pictures all the time.” She reached up and ran her fingers over a shot of a grumpy Declan in what looked like his communion suit. “Such a quiet boy,” she said softly. “We never understood him.”
“He’s not quiet,” I countered, twisting to look at her better. I felt a lot less ill at ease knowing Aidan Sr. had wandered off, because while I didn’t doubt Lena could cut me down effortlessly, I also knew she wouldn’t because of Seamus.
Only a woman with five boys could sense how close a mother and son would be. Hers were all incredibly protective of her, after all. Seamus was of me too. For so long, it had been us against the world…
“No?” She shrugged. “He was very different than the others. Never interested in sports, though he played to keep his brothers happy, never interested in books, never interested in anything at all.”
