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He’d molded himself to his dad’s image of the ideal firstborn son, and while Ronan didn’t remember resenting it until after Erin’s death, he did remember being aware of theexpectations.
There had been none of that with his mother. She’d been easy with her love, her big laugh and warm green eyes the sandpaper that smoothed out his dad’s roughedges.
“Dad’s thinking of replacing the windows in the house,” Nickvolunteered.
Ronan both resented Nick’s relationship with their dad and was relieved that it took the heat off of him. He had no idea how their relationship had survived Nick’s defection from the BPD. He’d been the good son by then, the one who’d been willing to follow their dad onto the police force, wear the uniform, move up theranks.
Like so many things, that had ended with Erin’s death, but somehow Nick’s relationship with their dad hadsurvived.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Ronansaid.
What the fuck was going on? Why was his dad here making small talk about home repair? This wasn’t the first time months had gone by between Ronan’s visits to the house inSouthie.
“Nick tells me you’re going toItaly.”
Ronan had to force himself not to glare at Nick. “That’sright.”
His dad turned his beer bottle in his hand. There were a million questions in his silence. A million things already said. A million more they would never darespeak.
He looked up and met Ronan’s eyes. “How long will you begone?”
“Hard tosay.”
In the pause that followed Ronan thought about all the arguments they’d had in the past about MIS, each one carefully clothed in generic language that made it impossible to know how much his dad knew about their business, that made it impossible not to realize he knewenough.
Ronan had tried explaining to his dad why they’d founded MIS, how they’d had to do something tangible in the wake of Erin’s death and the court’s decision to set free the dealer who had introduced her toheroin.
It had been pointless. Their dad’s view of honor was specific and unmovable, reliant on laws and codes that Ronan no longer believed in, that he hadn’t believed in in a longtime.
“You’ll be careful,” his dad finallysaid.
Ronannodded.
His dad slid off the stool and bent to scratch Chief’s head. “Maybe when you get back we’ll take the boat out. You and Nick and Dec, and Finn, if he ever shows his face again. Maybe we can even get Nora to come home.” His dad looked at Julia. “You’ll come too, Julia. We’ll pack beers and fishingpoles.”
Julia smiled. “Soundsperfect.”
Ronan’s throat tightened with something like guilt. Something likelove.
His dad would never admit to being lonely, but Ronan saw that hewas.
“I’d like that,” Ronansaid.
Maybe this time it would happen. Maybe they wouldn’t make excuses about how busy they were or how they were going to be out of town. Maybe they would set aside the past and all theirdifferences.
That they’d once been father and son and there had beenlove.
Ronan was surprised to realize he hoped it was stilltrue.
8
Julia was still thinkingabout Ronan’s dad when they walked Chief on the beach that night. The sun was just beginning to sink behind the city, the air still balmy, a gentle breeze blowing in off the water. They walked slowly at the water line, carrying their shoes while Chief trotted ahead, nose to theground.
Julia had had no preconceived notions about Thomas Murphy. Ronan rarely spoke about him, and when he did she’d sensed a minefield she was hesitant to test. She had her own secrets, her own baggage, and she was happy to honor the unspoken agreement that seemed to exist between her and Ronan even if it meant some questionmarks.
But it was obvious Thomas Murphy loved his sons — all of them. She’d seen that much in the way he’d looked at Ronan and Nick, in his eagerness to spend time with them and the concern in his eyes when he’d mentionedItaly.
“Something you want to ask me?” Ronan said besideher.
