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“Nah, love, you’re running away as soon as things get hard, but I still need that beautiful brain of yours. The Matteo job was a setback, but in some ways, it’s a good one. We’ll find out who talked, and we’ll handle him. And then you and me will show the whole family that we’re a good fucking team.”
I want to believe him. I desperately want that to happen.
I’m just not convinced it’s the right way forward.
“I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight. In the morning, I’ll figure out where I’m going.”
“You can try, but I already said you aren’t going anywhere.”
I know this argument isn’t going to resolve itself tonight. I wish he could see this from my perspective—I watched one family implode already, and I can’t handle it happening again.
My bed is cold and empty, and I don’t know when I’ll ever get to sleep again without his arms around me, but if being alone means the Hayes don’t suffer the way the Santoros did, then I’ll move on from this hole in my heart.
Chapter 32
Ronan
The bell rings and Seamus comes at me hard.
I expected him to be a little sluggish after last night. The guy’s got to be hungover and aching from the beating he took, but if that’s slowing him down, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he gets aggressive from the second we square up.
I take a couple of good punches. A jab, a hook, another jab. My guard’s up and I dance back to get some space, and when he comes in for another sequence, I duck left and counter with a series of hard body blows. He lets out some air and staggers away.
He comes again, teeth grimacing in rage. Another few good hits until I manage to land another body blow, a hard one right in his stomach. He grunts, but I don’t let up. Another, another, another, all punches into his body, hitting hard.
Seamus staggers back, cursing and swinging. Now he’s feeling the night before. My ears are ringing from a particularly good jab he landed on my cheek, but this is my chance. I rush forward and lay in with a solid sequence of punches, half of which land hard,and Seamus is on his back foot. Another jab, another jab, and a hard right hook that connects directly with his chin. Seamus lets out a gasp and drops to one knee as Uncle Brian comes in to break up the action.
“Just stay down,” I tell him, glaring hard. All eyes are on this fight. Half the fucking cousins showed up when word got out that Seamus and I were going to settle our beef in the boxing ring at Bloody Strike. They’re a bunch of vultures, but I would’ve done the same if I were in their shoes, and I can’t blame them.
Seamus needs to hurt for this. The rest of the cousins need to see him lose. But if he wants to save face and bow out, right now is the time. He took his shots, and there’s no reason to prolong it.
Unfortunately, Seamus is stubborn and gets back on his feet.
Uncle Brian calls the action back on. I advance on Seamus, take a weak shot to the ribs, and unload on him. All my anger and frustration from the past few weeks, all my rage ever since Valentina came into my life: I pour it into my punches. Seamus does well to avoid the worst of it, but he takes more ugly body blows and finally catches a sharp left to the jaw, staggering him for a second time.
Two solid jabs knock him onto the mat. Uncle Brian’s there, backing me off, and Seamus is slow to climb up. When he does get to his feet, he’s unsteady. Uncle Brian calls it.
The crowd is silent. I didn’t expect cheers, but fucking something would be nice. I catch some hard looks as Seamus is hustled off the mat and looked at by some of his friends. Niall joins me in my corner with some water and a towel.
“How’d that feel?” he asks brightly. Chipper fuck. It’s too early for that level of enthusiasm.
“Not as good as I hoped.”
“Really?” He pretends to be surprised. “Here’s me thinking punching your problems in the face would help.”
“He’s got to learn.”
“And yet he doesn’t seem like he caught the lesson.”
I look over at Seamus who seems dour and angry. Someone squirts water in his mouth and another cousin pats him on the cheeks to wake him up, and the vibe in the room is entirely off. There should be shouts and excitement, but instead it’s like everyone in here wanted to see me lose, and they’re disappointed that I didn’t.
“I have to handle this differently,” I say with an exhausted sigh. I towel off and pull my shirt back on. “Sometimes I wish leading this fucking family were easy.”
“If it were, anyone could do it.” Niall pats my back. “Come on, boss, you’ll be all right.”
I grunt at him, annoyed, and move around the ring to Seamus’s group. They look at me warily, not sure what to make of my approach, and I can’t blame them.
The family shouldn’t be like this. It was never so divided under my father. He ruled with fear and respect, which isn’t my style, but at least it worked. There was talk and some grumbling from time to time as certain uncles took issue with my father’s decisions, but overall, the Hayes Group operated smoothly.
