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“Where’s that?”
My dash lit up with a call, and though it was Da and you never ignored one of his calls without knowing you were about to get a kick to the head, this was too important.
“Just tell them that their egg donors don’t give enough of a fuck about them to know more about them than their names. Tell them that if anyone’s gonna need decades of therapy, it ain’t you.” Then, realizing what I’d said, I winced. “Sorry, Shay. I didn’t mean—”
Kid alreadywasin therapy, thanks to seeing a woman being murdered. We’d only just learned who that was—the sister of the ex-VP of the Satan’s Sinners’ MC West Orange Chapter.
“I know what you meant. But that’s different. I’m not fucked up because of what the family does or how my mom treated me. She’s the best mom. Everything she did, she did it with me in mind. She loves me. That’s a good thing, not a bad thing like they try to make out.” He tipped his chin up. “Thanks, Uncle Bren. I really appreciate the way you dropped everything for me tonight.”
“It’s what family does, kid. And you wanna remember that the next time they talk smack. They’re lonely little bastards. They don’t mean dick to their people.”
His smile was tight. “So I should pity them?”
I winked at him. “Nah.” I answered the call because I knew Da would give me shit otherwise, but before he could gripe at me, I greeted, “Da, Shay’s in the car with me.”
“My boy Shay!” Da declared, like he hadn’t seen him last Sunday. “How’s my little man?”
We’d all started calling him ‘little’ and so far, he hadn’t given us crap over it.
“I’m great thanks, Granddad.”
I nudged him in the side. “He’ll be proud of you. You should tell him. Just don’t let your ma know he was happy, yeah?” That’d only cause shit down the line.
“Tell me what?”
“I got into a fight today, Granddad.”
Da was silent a second, then his smugness shone through as he said, “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Come on, Seamus. Give me the details.”
I shot Shay an encouraging grin, but saw he didn’t need to be encouraged. He knew his grandfather wasn’t about to give him any crap, was, in fact, going to applaud him for his actions.
“They were calling Mom names, saying things about us, how we were mobsters.”
“And did you tell them they were right and that they should be careful because your grandda has an itchy trigger finger?” was my father’s insane retort.
Shay choked a little. “No, I just punched them.”
“Well, tell them that next time. Any little bastard who comes at my grandson comes at us all.”
I elbowed him again. “See? Told ya.”
“What’s the damage?”
“Two shiners,” I informed him. “They’d make you proud.”
“Will they still be there on Sunday, Bren?”
“Should be.”
“Mom will go crazy,” he groaned.
“Probably, that’s what good mothers do. But when you go to bed tonight, Aela, like the good Irish girl she is, will turn to Declan and say, ‘The boy did good.’”
I wasn’t sure how true that was, but it had Shay straightening his shoulders for the first time, which was interesting because I didn’t think Shay actually liked Da.
Aidan Sr. wasn’t exactly woke, and Shay most definitelywas.
I guessed that was just positive proof as to how acceptance mattered.
