“Something like that.” He pulls me tighter. “But you don’t need that. You’re right where you belong with me.”
I bite back a retort.Isn’t this supposed to be temporary?He doesn’t need me to ruin the moment, and honestly, I don’t really want to.
I’d rather just believe him.
23
FINN
The Whelan house feels quiet. I’m not sure what it is. I linger in the entryway, frowning down the silent hallways.
Years ago, this place was a madhouse. Even as big as it is, my brothers and I managed to fill it with constant chaos. There were clan members coming and going, my father’s business littering the various front rooms, while we ran rampant through the upstairs and the living spaces. Mom was always cooking. There was laughter and more than a few fights.
It was alive.
Some of that’s coming back. The wives are having babies and children breathe fresh air into the place. But I doubt it’ll ever be the same. Declan just doesn’t run the clan the way Dad used to. He’s much more controlling, much more reserved and serious, while our father was more of a friendly politician.
I almost mourn it. Those were good days. Except for the summer when my parents sent me away and I became what I am today.
Declan and Seamus are waiting for me in the office. This used to be my father’s, overflowing with old treasures and mementos from a long life, but now it’s Declan’s space. He’s always been an obsessive tight-ass and this place reflects that perfectly. There’s not a single book out of place and all the photographs are neatly arranged by year. Drop a pin on the floor and he’d notice.
“We were just talking about that new mixed-use project going up downtown. You know, the cursed one?” Seamus grins as I sit in the chair next to him.
“How’s it cursed?”
“Well, a fucking generator exploded and killed a guy, so, you know.” His grin gets even bigger. “By the way, how many dead brothers-in-law are you at now?”
“Leave it alone, Seamus,” Declan says, only half paying attention. He’s flipping through a spreadsheet and frowning at the numbers.
“I’m just saying, I’m happy we’re blood related. Otherwise I’m not sure I’d survive the day.” Seamus pretends to hang himself and cackles with delight.
I grin right back. Most of the time, I don’t have to pretend around him. Seamus gets me better than the others do. He still thinks I’m some overeager idiot quick with a joke and happy to take on whatever job the family throws at me, and that’s fine, but at least he knows there’s a fire down beneath all that.
And besides, he’s funny. I like that about him. Cormac and Declan are too damn serious.
“You do realize I have two more to go?” I waggle my eyebrows and mime shooting someone.
“Someone should warn them.”
“Don’t ruin my fun.”
Declan sighs, rubbing his face. “Can we please stop joking around?”
I give him an innocent look. “Who’s joking?”
Seamus laughs again, but as it dies down and we start talking business, there’s a sharpness to the way he studies me. I wonder if his jokes aren’t covering for something more.
But we discuss the building for a while. The family’s got serious resources mixed up in construction. Not just in the unions through the Flanagans, but also through our development firm. The Whelan clan is going as legit as it can, though so far real above-board investments are nearly as lucrative as the nasty shit Seamus gets into.
“I’m going to ask you to run point for me, Finn.” Declan slides papers across the desk toward me. They’re more spreadsheets. I recognize some of the names and dates as payments to the different contractors. “Redmond was organizing things before, but now?—”
Seamus throws his hands in the air. “Kaboom. No more Redmond.”
“Thanks for that.” Declan ignores him. “You’ll keep the project organized and act as the liaison between us and the Flanagans.”
“Can’t you talk to Eamon directly?”
“I’m delegating to you.”