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It’s simple. But I expected that because when my ma was laid to rest no one was here to mourn her. She was buried a liar and an adulterer.
There is no epigraph, just her name and the dates of her birth and death. Why didn’t my grandparents ensure she got more?
Dropping to a crouch, I brush the fallen leaves and twigs aside and take a moment to process everything. Now that I’m here, I don’t know what to say.
“I’m so sorry, Ma,” I start with regret. “Ya didn’t deserve this. We were so close to gettin’ out of here. I often wonder how my life would have turned out if we had left. If that arsehole, Sean, hadn’t found us. I think we would have been happy.”
Sighing, I tug at the blades of grass, trying to picture a life away from here. A life away from the Kelly name.
“I promise ye, he’ll pay for what he did. To you, and to Connor. I know Connor hurt ya, but in the end, he saved me as best he could. Even though he knew I wasn’t his son, he still left everythin’ to me. That says somethin’ about his character. That shows me that he still loves ya as he did this for you.
“I hope yer happy. I love ya and will make it right.”
I remove a single rose from the bunch before placing the bouquet at Mum’s gravestone.
“Goodbye, Ma.”
Coming to a stand, I promise myself I won’t return until Sean and Brody are dead.
With the single rose in hand, I walk toward Connor’s grave at the opposite end of the cemetery. No doubt that was done by Fiona, as she wouldn’t want Connor near my ma; alive or dead.
His marbled gravestone is elaborate. Fiona ensured his was the biggest here.
Beloved husband to Fiona. Cherished father of Hannah and Ethan.
Forever in our hearts.
It doesn’t surprise me I didn’t make the family tree. I’m the reason he’s buried in this grave. Besides, he isn’t my father. However, it still stings that Fiona made sure I was nowhere to be seen.
Placing the red rose on his grave, I say the only thing I can. “Thank you.”
Even knowing what he did, he tried his best to save me. He believed he would go to prison, not me. But Sean made sure we both suffered.
Just as I’m about to leave, the air turns thick, and instinctively, I dive behind Connor’s gravestone, taking cover as a bullet zips past me. I’m under attack in a fucking cemetery—no respect for the dead, it seems.
Peeking around the gravestone, I see a man in a black balaclava running toward me. I’m waiting on a gun from Cian, as I can’t obtain one legally, so I’m unarmed. Desperately searching for a weapon, I reach for a porcelain vase filled with flowers on a stranger’s grave—it’s the best I can do.
With his gun trained on me, the man gets closer and closer, and I know if I don’t do something, he’ll shoot me as there is nowhere to hide. My aim has always been good, so I kiss the vase for luck before jumping up and throwing it at my attacker.
The two bullets that slice through the air miss me, but my throw is on target and hits the fucker straight between the eyes. He stumbles, and his gun slips from his hand. Without delay, I charge at him as he attempts to regain his footing.
Diving on top of him, we both fall to the ground, where I raise my fist and connect with his face. “Who sent ya?” I scream, yanking him up by the collar of his shirt and pressing us nose to nose.
He doesn’t reply, which infuriates me further.
I headbutt him, the crack singing to my depravity, rattling the bars of his cage, demanding more. Just as I’m about to break his nose, he raises a shaky hand in surrender, his blue eyes pleading I show mercy.
And I do, because those eyes…I’ve looked into them before.
“Ethan?”
I quickly jump to my feet, looking down at the trembling man who is merely a boy. I don’t want to believe this is my baby brother, but I know that it is.
“Answer me, lad!” I demand, offering him a lifeline because if this were anyone else, they’d be dead.
He shakes his head, his chest heaving. He’s afraid.
“Sean has sent ya to do his dirty work, is it? I taught ya better than that, cub. If yer gonna shoot, best not miss.”
