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My boy.
I gritted my teeth as the urge to cry fucking hit me, but before I unmanned myself, before the big, hard ass mobster motherfucker wept like a goddamn baby, I heard the faintest of noises.
For the first time, my gaze moved off my boy’s, and I found her.
Watching me.
I remembered her, ironically enough, from just before I’d passed out in the makeshift hospital ward where I’d been patched up. She had blue hair now where before, when she was younger, it had been black as pitch, but the rest of her was the same. Maybe a little older—mostly in her eyes. I could see she’d lived a life. She was no longer my innocent, naive ingenue. She was harder, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Not in this world.
Her body had always been banging, but it was better now. Impossibly. Was it weird that I wanted to see her stomach? See if she had stretch marks? Physical proof that she’d held my boy inside her? I wanted to know her, wanted to know every inch of the woman I’d initiated into sex, but more than that, I wanted to know her.
I’d never stopped wanting to know her. To learn her. To be taught everything there was about her.
Her elfin face hadn’t changed. It was still delicate, still oddly fragile when I knew she was capable of such strength. Her hair was the same shade of blue as her eyes, and along her earlobes, she had gold studs that I wanted to feel against my lips. Her brows arched high, paving the way for killer bone structure that led down to a butt-indent in her chin. She had a pouty mouth that was made to take my dick, and a stubborn jaw that declared to the world she was obstinate.
Even with all these years apart, I knewthat.
“Declan,” she breathed, and her voice, fuck. Sweet fuck. If my body wasn’t hardwired for survival mode, my dick would be at full mast.
Just seeing her, hearing her, breathing in the same fucking air as her—a miracle. Something I never thought I’d have again.
“Aela.”
Her eyes shuttered, cutting off those rich sapphire orbs from me, and though there was a lot I wanted to say to her, I was speechless.
Both of them were a rainbow of color, a florid fall of hues that invaded my harmonious living space. I’d controlled every aspect of the decoration, from the colors to the layout, had brought peace into my home because outside these walls, there was no peace for an O’Donnelly.
But they didn’t fit in. They weren’t peaceful. They brought chaos.
And I’d never been happier for the mayhem that was facing me.
Never been happier in my fucking life.
* * *
AELA
“Declan!”
Fear hit me the second his knees crumpled, and I could no more stop myself from calling out his name than I could stop myself from rushing over to him, getting to him with just a handful of seconds to spare.
Who helped me get him back on his feet?
My son.
Ourson.
He’d darted over just as fast, just as hard. We both lugged him up even though he was fucking heavy, and our panting breaths merged as we managed to heft him on our shoulders and prop him up.
He wasn’t deadweight, but he was almost there.
“Where to, Mom?” Seamus rasped, and I knew he couldn’t take the weight that much longer.
When Declan didn’t speak, I had to assume that he didn’t have the strength to. The stubborn ass had come home far too soon, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.
I was looking at him.
Speaking with him.
