Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
He turned pensive and blew out smoke from his nose.
Unlike me, he dressed sharply because that was his comfort level. He was a man of many suspenders. Expensive brands, tailored pants and shirts, shined shoes, the whole nine yards. Shannon O’Shea was similar. They always dressed up.
I was a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy, and Kellan knew that. He was an excellent people reader. He’d studied human behavior and psychology, and it was what made him great at his job. He knew how to handle people from all walks of life. Including me. He wouldn’t hire me to do something that made me miserable, because he knew I would quit.
I took a swig of my beer and flicked some ashes into a basket that’d once held fries. I hoped nobody wanted the last two.
“What prompted this?” he asked next.
I could be honest with him.
“West met someone.”
Fuck, that tasted bitter.
Deep breaths.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He sat forward a little and furrowed his brow. “Did you genuinely believe you’d work shit out?”
The question I’d been volleying back and forth all afternoon.
I sighed. “Part of me did, part of me didn’t. I guess it was mostly hope. We’ve done it once before.”
We’d been on the verge of breaking up around the time we’d left LA to return to Philly, but we’d managed to work things out. Although, in retrospect, we’d been so focused on making Trip feel at home with us at the time, that…maybe the relationship had been fixed temporarily solely because we’d aced the parent gig together. After that, it’d been a slow descent into misery.
To this day, West claimed I’d lost myself in the move. Actually, we’d started fighting about this before we’d left LA. He said I’d changed too much. I’d been like, excuse me for growing up…? What did he expect, that I was gonna be a part-time bartender my whole life? Or that I was gonna book modeling gigs to pay rent? No thanks. Especially not when my husband came from some fancy family that judged me whenever we visited.
They’d never liked me. West’s dad had his own reasons too. Most of them just thought I was a hood rat. So be it. I wasn’t ashamed of my upbringing. My folks had done everything they could. But that fucking guy… West’s old man was a retired FBI agent, and he’d already looked me up before our first visit.
Kellan took another drag from his smoke and scratched his chin. “Here’s the thing, Alfie. I don’t think it’s wise to include you more if this is a decision you’re making based on hurt, and—”
“It’s more than that,” I said. “I’m fuckin’ tired of the bullshit. I’ve been hiding a part of who I am in one way or another since I was a kid, and at least I can stop worrying about West now.”
He cocked his head, interested. “What’ve you been hiding, other than your affiliations?”
My affiliations. My actual relation to the Sons. I’d never told West, and I’d never told Kellan.
Three people knew. My parents and West’s father.
Question now was, did I tell my buddy?
Fuck, the thought actually made me nervous, because that hadn’t been the plan coming here tonight.
“I’ll make it simple for you,” he said. “Is there anything I should know?”
That didn’t make shit simple at all.
Well…simple, but not easy.
Goddammit, he should know.
“Probably,” I admitted. I took a final drag from my smoke and stubbed it out under my shoe before it joined the leftover fries. Then I chugged half my beer.
“Then you tell me before we move forward,” he stated.
Fuck.
“I thought you could only spare twenty minutes.” I knew he had a sit-down later, though he might cancel.
He chuckled. “Shan can wait a few minutes extra. I’ll make it up to him.”
Bet.
I rubbed my forehead and heard Ma yell in my head.
Don’t you dare, boy!
Sorry, Ma.
I released a big breath. “I wasn’t born O’Dwyer,” I said. “My dad is my stepdad in technical terms.” But he was my dad. I loved that man. He’d raised me. He’d been my hero for as long as I could remember.
Kellan frowned.
I cleared my throat. “My mother was the mistress of a Son, and he paid her to make sure I was kept far away from the syndicate. He didn’t want me near his other kid and his wife and whatever.”
His mind started running. I could tell by the way his gaze flickered and how he knitted his brows together.
“But we’ve discussed this before,” he replied. “It’s a miracle you and I didn’t run into each other before college. We grew up in the same neighborhood.”
Not so much a miracle. I’d avoided them all.
I shrugged. “I went to a shittier school, and we moved. The only place we shared was church. She refused to go to another one.”