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His hand moved over to press against my stomach. “Another soul is coming into the world. My child is coming into the life. I can’t control that or stop it or change it.”
Ah.
Shit.
I should have thought about that.
I was still in the happy phase. Still wondering if it would be a boy or a girl and hoping I’d get through the pregnancy without too many health issues. Unlike last time.
Finn, though I'd only told him I was pregnant this morning, was thinking about when Jake and this baby—if it were a boy—were approaching fourteen.
Fourteen... When the Irish Mob had their version of a Bar Mitzvah and introduced their teenagers to the lifestyle.
My heart shriveled at the thought of arming Jake with a gun in thirteen years’ time… Would that happen? Would Aidan Sr. still be alive so Finn couldn’t break the cycle?
“My stepdad raped me, Eef.”
“I know he did, baby.”
My thumb traced over the line of his cheekbone. Little spiderwebs of wrinkles had appeared at the corners of his eyes this past year, and I was pretty sure that had everything to do with stress and not being almost forty-two.
“It isn’t my secret to tell, and I’ve kept this locked up inside for decades… I’d never have said a word either. Never, but—” He released a breath. “Let me start at the beginning. Conor was raped by a priest, Eef.”
For a second, I thought he was joking, but then my brain just whirred to a halt because this wasn’t funny in the least.
This wasn’t a joking matter.
And somehow, even though it was the opposite of a punchline, I knew my husband had more to tell me than that.
So, like anyone facing a hurricane armed with nothing more than a dollar-store umbrella, I braced myself.
Knowing that even that wouldn’t be enough.
Because for the Irish Mob, nothing ever was.
