“He might, but we’ll deal with that if we have to.”
We make it back to the apartment without issues. I help Finn change his bandages. He stares grimly at the ugly bruising and the clean stitches in the mirror as I turn on the shower and get him set up.
I want to say something. Remind him about what he said that night. If we talk about it again, maybe there’s a way to find ourselves back there.
But he was just high. That wholefalling for youthing was only the drugs talking. Even if I wish it weren’t.
I move to walk past him but he turns. We nearly collide. He grabs my wrist and there’s something he wants to say. I touch his chest, looking into his face. I want to apologize, beg his forgiveness, swear I’ll never, ever do something like this again, so long as he doesn’t get himself killed, because I’m falling too.
My phone starts ringing in the other room.
His jaw tightens. I don’t move, my heart racing. I want it to stop, but he tilts his chin in that direction.
“You should get it.” He lets me go.
I hesitate, but he’s right. We don’t want anyone asking questions. I leave the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind me, and answer right before it goes to voicemail.
“I hope your little vacation was good, Caroline.” Malachy’s voice is clipped and strained. It sends my heart into overdrive. “I’m guessing you don’t even know Dermot was attacked.”
“What?! Is Dermot okay?” I’m probably overacting, but Malachy doesn’t sound like he notices.
“Get home right now. We need to talk.”
“Okay, but, Dermot?—”
“He’s fucking fine.”
Malachy hangs up. I lower my phone, feeling sick. My pulse is out of control. I’ve never heard Mal so enraged before and I’m terrified of what I’m going to find if I go.
But I can’t just refuse. And it’s not like they’re going to hurt me. They’re not that stupid, right? If I come back here and Finn notices a bruise, there’d be hell to pay. The Whelans would never let my brothers touch me like that.
Unless Mal doesn’t care anymore… and Dermot somehow knows it was us who attacked that poker game…
I pace back and forth while Finn’s in the shower, my mind racing all over, but I don’t see any other way. I can’t refuse to show up. That’ll only look terrible.
When Finn gets out, he stands in the doorway to the bathroom wrapped in only a towel, water glistening off his muscular chest. I try not to look at the bandage over his bullet wound.
“You’re right. You have to go. But you’re not going alone.”
“You can’t come with me. That’ll be even worse.”
“No, but I’ll be close. If something bad happens—” His jaw tightens in anger. “You’ll send me a message.”
“You’re hurt. You need to stay here.”
“Fuck that.” He struggles to put on a shirt, obviously swallowing a lot of discomfort. “Give me a minute to get dressed and then we’ll head out.”
“Finn—”
“No more playing nurse. I’m going to be sitting in the car outside that fucking house in case those vicious bastards decide to treat you like a punching bag again. Do you understand me? If they lay a hand on you, I swear, Caroline, I’ll come in and finish this today, to hell with the consequences.”
His gaze is fierce and defiant. And I swear, I’ve never felt like I could love him more than right in this moment.
“Okay,” I say, voice very small, as a flood of relief rushes through me. If Finn’s nearby, this might be okay. I can get through anything with him at my side.
“Then we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
The house is strangely dark.It’s not usually so grim. I pause in the entryway and listen for any sign that people are home, but it’s totally silent. “Hello? Mal? Mom?” Nobody answers. I drift into the kitchen, but it’s abandoned. I trudge around to the back, a nasty feeling rustling around in my stomach.