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“Gavin’s been a part of that family since he was eleven years old. Maybe he wants the same thing.”
“Maybe, but…” Kelli wasn’t as convinced.
“But what?” Colm prompted.
“I’ve had a few conversations with just Gavin, and I don’t get the impression he wants that at all.”
She and Colm started walking again, both of them quiet. She suspected Colm was digesting that information, weighing it against his own opinions. He’d always been an introspective guy, even back in school. While she and Padraig were more verbal, typically expressing every thought the second they had it, Colm was quieter, and when he spoke, his thoughts were fully formed and measured.
The second she thought his name, she said it aloud—proving she hadn’t changed much from when she was younger.
“Paddy.”
Colm sighed. “Yeah.”
Those two words proved just how in synch Colm and Kelli were when it came to Padraig.
“We knew this was coming, Kell.”
She nodded. She had. Padraig had been very quiet at Friendsgiving, withdrawn. Too many times, she’d caught sight of that vacant, faraway look in his eyes. The one he always managed to shutter away and hide when he realized she was looking at him. Then he’d paste on a fake smile that didn’t fool her one bit and give her a wink she was certain he thought set her mind at ease.
It didn’t.
“I miss Mia,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. She hadn’t said those words—hadn’t even allowed herself to think them—in a long time, because the second she did, a heavy weight settled on her chest and she usually wound up crying herself to sleep.
“So do I. I miss my brother too,” Colm confessed.
Kelli turned her face away, trying to wipe away a tear without him seeing. He didn’t let her get away with it. Using the grip on her hand, he tugged her toward him, wrapping her up in a big, strong hug, giving her a second to get herself under control.
They didn’t say anything more. The past two years, they’d said it all…a thousand times. Talked until they were hoarse, trying to figure out how to heal Padraig’s shattered heart. It was the only time the two of them waved the white flag and called a truce, speaking about something that genuinely worried them both, though Kelli hadn’t realized that was what they were doing until just now. The moments when they talked about Padraig were the only times she’d felt some level of solidarity with Colm prior to Halloween.
And this was the first time Colm had ever hugged her after one of these talks, ever offered comfort through touch rather than words.
His silent strength soaked in deeper than anything he could ever say. She sucked in several deep breaths, squeezing him tighter for a second before releasing him. She looked up, giving him a weak attempt at a smile. “Thanks. I needed that.”
He cupped her cheek affectionately, giving her the same sad smile. “So did I.”
Then he bent lower and kissed her. It was a soft, sweet, gentle touch of his lips against hers, but it packed a punch. It didn’t last more than a few seconds, then he pressed his forehead to hers and gave her his signature cocky-ass grin. “We’re here.”
Kelli straightened and looked over her shoulder at her apartment building. “You know, you didn’t have to walk me home. I could have grabbed an Uber.”
“I needed to walk off that dinner. We haven’t even hit Thanksgiving and I’ve already packed on a couple extra pounds.”
Colm was built like most of the men in his family, tall with broad shoulders. Colm’s mom, Lane, referred to their dad, Tris, as Everest, and his sons had definitely acquired that same mountainous physique. Not that any of it was fat. Colm and Padraig both belonged to a boxing club and it ensured they were made of pure muscle.
Kelli released his hand. “Well, I guess I should—”
“Invite me up.” There wasn’t a hint of request in his words, so of course, it tweaked Kelli just enough that she’d deny herself what she wanted—him in her bed tonight—just to put the man in his place.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Though the two of them had gone out for dinner a couple of nights this week, they’d met at the restaurants and managed to not talk about Halloween…or that fucking hot-as-shit interlude in the bathroom last Sunday.
“Kell,” he said, his gaze heated…hungry. “Invite me up. Now.”
“You know,” she said, turning away from him, not surprised when he followed, “it would serve you right if I sent you packing, you cocky bastard.”
“But then you’d suffer too.”
