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“Take me to the warehouse,” I say. I open my eyes and lift my head.
“You said it was too much.”
It is too much. Which is why it needs to end.
I nod. “It’s time, Jaime. To let him go.”
His jaw ticks, and the hold he has over my hand squeezes. Tension rolls over his facial features. “I can’t do that.”
I press my other hand against his cheek. “You have to, baby. So we can move on.”
He shakes his head, his body still rigid. “He could die a thousand times, and it still wouldn’t be enough, Saoirse.”
“It has to be enough, Jaime.” I sigh, looking out the window. “No more death. No more hatred. We have to walk away from all of this before the need for retribution kills us both.”
He exhales, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “Okay, yeah. It’s time,” he rasps. He makes a left-hand turn, redirecting our travels. “Tell me how you want to do this. You coming in, or waiting in the car?”
“I’m coming in.”
He stops at a red light, turning his attention to me. “Whatever you want.”
“Enough of the drowning,” I sigh. “Not sure what your obsession is with that. But let’s just, I don’t know? Make it quick.”
“Gunshot to the head.”
I scrunch my nose, recalling how gory that had been with Tommy. “Too messy.”
“I could set him on fire.”
“The smell,” I say.
“Suffocate him? Slice his wrists? Rattlesnake to the face? CO2 poisoning?”
My mouth drops. “Why do you have so many ideas?”
“Baby, the Mafia may bring out the need to kill, but the governmenttaughtme how to kill. I can rattle off suggestions all day. Drowning is my favorite, though.“ He goes quiet, a solemn look on his face.
My throat tightens because of how Cara died. She sliced her wrists, then stumbled into the pool. Declan said the images it left him with were horrible, unforgettable. Or maybe it was something less dramatic, like his time in the Navy. But I’d guess it had to do with the first.
I rest my hand over his knee. “Sometimes I think about what would have happened.”
He furrows his brows, eyes remaining on the road. “What do you mean?”
“If she hadn’t died. They were high school sweethearts, and probably would have broken up, but I like to pretend she would have married Declan. That we’d have nieces and nephews by now.” My eyes water, and I catch his doing the same.
“She’d have been a good mom,” he says, his voice hoarse with grief. “He’d be a shitty dad. He can’t even change Owen’s diaper.”
I snort. “You’re right. The man has no patience. But Cara? She had to have it, being with him.”
Scotty grins. “She did. She was an amazing sister. Taught me how to spell my name in the treehouse out back. I think she would have been a teacher.”
“Yeah, probably. She tutored me. She used to make up songs to help me remember how to multiply.” I blink away the burning tears. “I’m sorry, Jaime. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to lose a sibling.”
A single tear falls, landing on his cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb.
“It sucks, Saoirse. I hope you’ve got a long time before you know what it feels like.”
Silence falls over us, and I pray that this is the last death to follow us for a very long time. I don’t want any more of it to touch us. It’s been too much, and I don’t know how much longer I can pretend I’m okay with it all.
