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“Vincent, don’t think I haven’t noticed the change in you since Sorcha’s death.” Pa straightens up and glowers at me.
I narrow my eyes at him. What the hell is he going to say to me now?
“Do you expect me to be the same?”
“No, I don’t, but fuck, you’re neither here nor there. One end of the spectrum to the next. Never in the middle. You can kill a man for selling drugs to kids right off the bat, but you can’t kill Mark when he steals two million from you and fucks with us. You can kill a man who stabbed his wife, but you can’t see for shit when you have something good in front of you.”
He could continue. The list of things I’ve done since Sorcha’s death is long. I became a no-chances guy after. It was enough for me to know that a guy was evil, doing evil things, and I didn’t think it was right for me to know that and let him walk away.
It’s rage. I won’t claim that I was being heroic. It’s more the case of me dealing out death to those I thought deserved it. But what happened with Mark was Ava. He did bad things too, and I practically let him go.
“Pa—”
“No, Vincent, don’t make me regret my decision to make you boss of this family. It would break my heart. My other boys are each as deserving of the position, but you are the only one who earned it. In the end, though, I will do what’s right for the family the way I always have. Take your three weeks, but no more. If at the end of that time you still feel the same and can’t come to me with a solid reason for why we shouldn’t follow through with this alliance, I will take matters into my own hands. I will do it, and you will not like it. This opportunity is too big to fuck it up.”
I’m listening. Listening loud and clear, and hearing him, knowing that I better take that month to shape up in more ways than one.
Even if I don’t want to.
Chapter Seventeen
Vincent
Her favorite flowers were lilies.
Calla lilies.
She had them in her wedding bouquet and had the flowers pressed so she could save it forever.
Sorcha was always doing things like that. Always creative in some way. She loved collecting things, and she loved the ballet. It was me who got her started on that figurine collection. I bought her one, and she got the rest.
I don’t know why I’m here again today.
At the cemetery again, standing by her grave, the confirmation that she’s gone and never coming back.
I don’t know why I think coming here would help me in any way.
I was here twice last month.
Once for my usual visit and then weeks ago for the memorial. Both times, I brought her flowers.
Today is no different.
I just arrived, and I see that someone’s been by since I was last here. I have a custodian who tends to the grave on a daily basis, but I can always tell when someone else has been by. Today, it looks like it was her mother. She always brings dahlias with a little blue ribbon tied around the bunch.
Like always, I’m stumped for words, and I feel selfish because I came here straight after speaking to Pa.
Emotions drove me back, and I feel like I need her.
“Hi, doll, me again,” I say and scan over the grave. “I really miss you. I miss everything about you, and I’m trying to me okay but making all kinds of shit decisions.”
The Bratva and Ava.
Those are the current thorns in my side.
I’ve possibly sent Gibbs on a wild goose chase, pissed off Pa because he thinks I’m going to mess up a good opportunity, and I have Ava at my house, still there for sex.
This week has been so up and down that I haven’t really thought of what to tell her in terms of her leaving.
