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“Who’s gone quiet on you?” Declan asked.
“Lodestar.” He stared down at his own drink. “I’m starting to get worried.”
“You know where she lives, right?” Brennan pointed out. “Just go visit.”
His eyes rounded. “Go visit her?”
Declan snorted. “Con, she’s with the Sinners, not the Romulans on Angel One.”
“Whoa, someone’s been watchingStar Trek,” Conor blurted out.
Dec shrugged. “Shay loves it. Cameron does too.”
I smirked. “And you don’t?”
His nose crinkled at the bridge. “I’d prefer an art documentary, but it keeps my kids happy. What the hell else am I supposed to do?”
Brennan shook his head. “You definitely don’t take after the school of Da.”
Dec stiffened and shot me a wary look—each of them did that whenever they mentioned their parents. Not Conor, though. Naturally.
“No, I fucking don’t,” Declan mumbled. “You think I’d treat my sons like he treated me?”
“Theoretically, and statistically, you should. Systemic abuse does that to a person,” Conor pointed out.
“Yeah, well, I’m breaking the mold. And Aela would chop me up and store me in the freezer if I ever made my kids feel like they were pieces of shit.”
For a second, the guys just looked at each other.
I knew what they were thinking—Lena hadn’t done dick to stop Senior from making them feel like they were pieces of shit.
“You seen Ma recently?” Conor rasped.
A part of me tensed up, but they were my brothers and she was their mother. I’d absented myself from their lives, they hadn’t, and I didn’t expect them to. Aoife didn’t either.
Both of us were just grateful we got to have our cake and eat it too.
Saturday night was ours. Sunday dinner was theirs.
I handled Senior on business, saw Lena every second Wednesday when she came into the city to visit with Jake, and other than that, I honored my wife’s request that I keep them out of our lives.
I knew the brothers shot me looks, their shoulders stiff with tension, but I murmured, “I saw her on Wednesday. She’s lost weight.”
Kid started picking off the label on his beer. “A lot of it. Think she’s off her meds again. Seen the state of her throat? She’s back to scratching.”
“I know she is,” Brennan muttered. “Da’s not much better.”
Aidan drank some of his whiskey. “I’m not sure if we’ll have much longer with them.”
Brennan blinked. “Well, that’s fucking depressing.”
“Is it? They’re both sick, Bren. Mentally and physically.” He adjusted his seated position and grimaced, pain flicking over his features. “Maybe sending them to Florida would help.”
Declan hooted. “Florida? Yeah, I can totally see them living it up in Boca Raton.”
“Maybe they’ve got that seasonal depression shit.” Aidan’s tone was musing.
“Who does?” Eoghan demanded as he strolled into the living room.
