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The twins jog up the stairs and I wait until they’ve gone down the hallway toward their rooms before I turn my attention back to Finn.
He must read my mood because he hands me the open bottle of whisky in his hand, and I raise it to my mouth. After a couple of long gulps, the burn of it going down brings me out of the haze of violence.
Sometimes it takes me days to feel things.
“You okay, bro?”
Looking into his haunted gaze, I’m struck by the reality that I’ve been a shit brother over the past months. “Are you? I’m sorry I haven’t been here. I should’ve manned the fuck up and made sure I was around for you.”
Finn shrugs. “It’s cool. I’m good.”
No. He’s anything but.
The kid is barely twenty-four and has no parents and no guiding force to help him through. No wonder he’s been acting out.
“I’ll do better, Finny. I promise.”
He nods. “I get it. With the expectations of you taking his place, this house must be hell for you. Sleeping in his bed. Sitting in his chair. It’s a lot.”
Aye, it is. “I’ll still do better.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Tag.”
I cup the back of his neck and pull him closer to kiss the side of his head. “And though I don’t deserve it, I need you to do something of a favor for me.”
He eases back and shrugs. “Sure. What do you need?”
I glance up the stairs and frown. “I brought a woman with me tonight. Laine O’Neill. She said she just landed at 7 AM yesterday morning from the states.”
“Okay, so what do you need?”
“Use your hacker magic to check out her story. She says she’s here to bury her mother, Kate O’Neill, originally from Brittas Bay.”
“Do you need me to do it now?”
“No. It’s three in the morning. Tomorrow will be soon enough. And Finn…be discrete. If what she told me is true, I don’t want to come off looking like a fucking jerk.”
Finn chuckles. “You’re the head of Quinn mafia clan but you’re worried she’ll think you’re a jerk?”
I’m way too tired for his amusement, so I turn toward the stairs. “Go to bed, Finny. Tomorrow is likely to be a clusterfuck.”
“Will do. I’m going to grab a piece of Cora’s cake first.”
I stop on the steps and turn back. “The raspberry chocolate one?”
“You know it.”
Damn. I’ve been away too long. “Leave a piece for me. I’ll have it for breakfast.”
“And my whiskey?” he asks, pointing up the steps.
“Oh, I’m taking this to bed with me. It’s been a day and you’ve self-medicated long enough. We’re Quinns. It’s time we come out swinging.”
My legs feel like lead as I plod up the stairs and try to force the beast back in its cage. I can usually tether my dark impulses behind a charming smile, but since Da passed, it’s been tough.
The man survived decades of danger and gets taken down by a heart attack?
It was sudden and unfair.
