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She’s not for me.
She’s a McGuire.
Still, she’s packing it in with her family and that gives the little ember of warmth kindling in my cold, dark heart an ounce of hope.
Her plan to live on the north side with friends means I can at least see her and know that she’s doing okay.
Looking out across the yard, I allow myself a moment to breathe. I exhale and watch as the smoke curls up into the gray afternoon sky.
Before heading back inside, I pull out my phone again and type out a quick text to Piper.
Thinking of you today.
It’s not much, but it’s generic enough that if anyone questions it, the context is easily explained on the day of her brother’s funeral.
I hit send, hoping it offers her a sliver of comfort on a day that’s bound to be filled with grief and tension.
Crushing the cigarette under my boot, I decide there’s not much more I can do here for now. I open the door and lean inside. “Saddle up, boys. We’re on the move.”
While boots and chairs shuffle against the wood floor inside, I walk over to where my bike is parked. The familiar weight of the keys in my hand grounds me, and though my side hurts when I swing a leg over, I settle onto the seat and wait for the pain to ease.
When my boys are present and accounted for, I fire up the engine, the throaty roar rumbling through the quiet, echoing in the fenced property around us.
I can’t do anything more for Piper right now, so I might as well keep Tag happy. The road is a sanctuary for me anyway, the rhythm of the ride a meditation.
Mickey rides to the gate and opens our way and the boys roll out. As my tires take hold, I shift gears and fall into the stream of bikes spilling onto the street like a river of steel and leather.
“Keep it tight, Devils. Today, more than ever, we need to watch each other’s backs.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Piper
The service ends and as funerals go, Ryan gets a lovely send off. Only the members of our family and of Da’s inner circle come to share a toast at the gravesite.
I stand in front of the lowered casket with Rory on one side of me and Brody on the other. All afternoon, my protective brother bookends kept me isolated from our parents, Darcy, and Niall.
Which works for me.
After having my say this morning, all the fight drained out of me. I’m still angry—I doubt I’ll ever get over that—but I don’t have the energy to waste on people who don’t respect me.
Once the bottle of whiskey has been passed around and everyone has their sip, Da raises his glass. “To Ryan. May the sun shine warm upon your face, and the rains fall soft upon your fields.And until we meet again,may God hold you in the palm of his hand, my boy.Suaimhneas síoraí air.”
“Suaimhneas síoraí air,” we all repeat, wishing him eternal rest.
With that done, Rory and Brody walk me back to the limos parked along the cemetery trail.
“Are you sure you won’t come back to the house for the reception?” Brody asks.
“Not this time. I wanted to be here for Ryan, but I’m ready to take my things and go. I was half afraid Da would lock me in my room and not let me leave. It’s best if I get out while I can.”
Rory hugs me and kisses my forehead. “Well, we’ll miss you, little bug. Call us and let us know how you are. And if you’re ever on our side of the river…”
I ease back and shake my head. “I don’t suppose that will be for a long while. But if you’re ever on the north…”
Brody laughs. “Equally unlikely.”
I wonder if it has to be that way. If I told Sean I wanted to have lunch with my brothers, he’d let them come across without hassle, wouldn’t he?
