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I didn’t correct his misinterpretation that I wasn’t getting laid, mostly because it was easier for him to think that than to discuss the reality. I just snickered and told Eoghan, “My balls thank you.”
I sent a message to Aidan Jr:
Me:You need to keep an eye on Kid. He’s taking this shit with Callum to heart.
“TMI, bro.” Eoghan sniffed.
We shared a look, and I laughed. “Bro.”
“Weird, huh?” he agreed sheepishly. “I mean, we’ve called you that a thousand times before, but it’s different now. Different good,” he clarified.
My phone buzzed.
Aidan Jr.:How can you keep an eye on Kid? That’s his job, ain’t it?
“Even though it means Senior cheated?” I grated out, trying to pick apart why Kid’s tone had put me so on edge that I’d sent that text to Junior.
Eoghan snorted, and it drew my focus his way. “Da’s a psychopath, Finn. They never said it outright, but I always thought his cheating was why Ma hit him on the fucking head with that goddamn rolling pin.
“I didn’t think it was because he told her that her chicken was dry one Sunday,” he drawled. “Plus, I think there’s a reason he’s gotten worse over the years.”
“What do you mean?”
Me:It IS his job, and he’s excelling at it right now. More than you fucking know. But still, I just spoke with him, and he sounded edgy as fuck.
And if Kid happened to be reading this, then he deserved the paranoia.
Jackass.
“Guilt. Does shit to us. Changes us.” Eoghan scratched his chin where stubble was growing.
"I agree. It does."
“Okay, less talk about the folks. More about us. Tell me a secret, and I’ll tell you one too,” Eoghan prompted.
“Why? Maybe they’re secrets because they need to be?” I retorted as I scanned the new text message.
Aidan Jr.:I’ll check in with him. He and Callum were tight, you’re right. Not only is he grieving the bastard’s death, but his friendship as well.
Me:I’ll try to keep on top of shit with him but this new project is taking all my time.
Aidan Jr.:Don’t worry about it. I got this.
Tucking my phone back in my pocket after I decided Aidan could have fun finding out Conor was a peeping Tom on his father's say-so, I watched as Eoghan slouched on the double-wide armchair, slinking back so that one ankle moved to rest on his knee.
Against the white leather, in his black suit, he looked like the killer I knew he was. His fingers rapped against the armrest, triggering a rhythmic tapping sound as he rolled from pinkie to pointer.
“I think what I’m trying to say is that confession is more important than I initially realized,” he muttered eventually.
Was this really for him or a desire to ease whatever he thought was going on with me?
Truthfully, there was no absolving me of what I’d done. The trust I’d broken, irreparably, between my wife and me, there was no fixing it.
I deserved for the truth to eat me alive, to keep me awake at night.
I deserved that, but I could tell something was making him itch. Something was eating at him too. I didn’t think it was just a desire to help me either.
He wanted to talk.
