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It was Connor.
I had thought the piano was purely decorative when I’d first seen it. We’d had a small upright in the City Point house, but none of us played. I’d assumed this one was the same, something rich people had because everyone else had one, which was odd when you really thought about it. But no. This one was positioned along the long, low bank of windows overlooking the ocean, sheet music spread haphazardly across the floor. Connor sat at the bench, playing something intricate and classical and hauntingly familiar.
From where I stood, I could only see his side profile. His face was set with concentration, but not over the music. Not the way he was playing. Connor looked like someone who had a lot on his mind, and he was using the music to exorcize some demons. I knew the feeling. I used complex surgeries the same way.
I took another step into the room, intrigued. Connor still hadn’t seen me. His hands flew over the keys effortlessly. I could tell this was something that brought him true joy, and I almost felt bad for stealing a glimpse into something so private.
Almost.
I didn’t realize how close I’d gotten until the song ended, and Connor’s head swiveled in my direction. He didn’t look a bit surprised to see me.
“How long did you know I was standing there?” I asked.
“About halfway through the song.” Again, with that crooked smile. “I don’t mind, though. Come here.”
He softened the command by patting the piano bench next to him. I watched as hands that had dealt so much violence curled over the piano keys, fingers caressing each note as he shifted into another song. This one was slow and sultry, just a bit melancholy.
“You play beautifully,” I said.
“Thank you. Mam taught at the University, and she taught me. This is really all I even wanted to do.” His eyes seemed lit from within. “I love the rawness of it, you know? How one simple piece can be so many things depending on who’s playing it. The subtle nuances. Every musician leaving a bit of their blood on the page. It’s as close to glimpsing the soul as anyone can ever get, I think. It’s all that’s ever really made me happy, besides the bike. All the rest, it’s just…”
Connor drifted off, his smile fading. A deep sadness shadowed his features, and the song seemed heavier, somehow. Maybe what he said was true. I felt like I was seeing something he hadn’t meant me to see.
“Why didn’t you pursue it?” I asked. “Why do you keep…you know.” Saying it would make the fact that I was married to a warlord in the Irish mob painfully real, and he had blood on his hands.
Connor leaned into the keys, and I knew by the stiffness in his shoulders that he’d caught my meaning. “I did. I was an undergrad at Boston Conservatory when Aiden died.”
I remembered Aiden McTiernan from childhood, the cocky, sure-footed boy who used to pal around with Tommy and Alfie. I knew he’d been killed, but I hadn’t known the circumstances.
Connor was retreating deep within himself, pouring himself into the notes like they’d be his salvation. There was something deeper here, and I couldn’t help but ask. “What happened to Aiden?”
“I got him killed.”
What?My blood froze. But the meaning of his words took on a different tone as the music darkened and his lips curled in a self-loathing sneer. “I was at school when it happened. I was supposed to be at a drop, an incoming shipment of guns we were going to sell to the Bratva out in Jamaica Plains. Callum was adamant about me supervising the deal. He wanted me to start pulling my weight. I begged and pleaded with him, but in the end, the fact that he’d taken me in after my parents died and was single-handedly putting me through college won out.”
Connor was far away, now, staring unseeingly at the piano keys. “My finals were scheduled for three that afternoon, and I couldn’t miss them. I asked Aiden to cover for me. I begged him not to tell Callum. He gave me shit for it, but in the end, he agreed like I knew he would. Aiden would've done anything for me. I went to class, sat for my finals, and didn’t hear another word about it until my cell rang later that night.
“As it turned out, the Bratva were tired of dealing with the middleman. Thought themselves above dealing with a bunch of two-bit Southie micks. It was a low-level deal, not a lot of heat on either side, but they showed up with enough firepower to storm a small country. Our guys were taken completely by surprise. The Bratva got away with the guns and the cash, and Aiden bled out in Tommy’s arms.”
Connor’s eyes slid to mine. “Don’t know if Tommy ever told you that. Can’t imagine that he has, given the nature of your relationship. I know it still fucks with him, though. I see it in his eyes, sometimes. In Sloane’s eyes. When they look at me.”
My heart broke for him. “Connor, that wasn’t your fault.”
“Isn’t it, though?” He laughed bitterly. “I was supposed to be at that drop, not Aiden. I chose my own selfish needs over my family, and he paid for it with his life. It should have been me.”
I didn’t know what to say. I was rocked to my very core. Suddenly, Sloane’s words before the wedding came back to me.
“Connor didn’t choose this life, it chose him. Guilt and duty hold him here more than anything else…Connor hates himself enough as it is, and he doesn’t need it from you. As morally grey as our lives may seem to you, there’s a reason for everything.”
I watched his profile as he played. It was nearly impossible to view him now in the same light as I’d seen him when we first met, and admittedly, I felt ashamed for how badly I’d misjudged him. I couldn’t imagine shouldering that kind of burden.
The music hit a sour note, and Connor slammed the keys in frustration. His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth a thin slash. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
I sat very still, trying to decide if I should comfort him or leave the room.
“I don’t know why I tell you half the things I do,” he said. “I can't seem to think straight around you.”
He seemed both surprised and confused by this, looking down at me like he was just seeing me for the first time.
