Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
A bottle of vodka was next.
Once back on the couch, I retrieved my spare pack of smokes and an ashtray from the wooden box on the table.
Grace had thought the little box would be a good place to store my remotes.
“Because no one likes to see those, dearie.”
Shan drew a shuddering breath and sniffled as I lit up a smoke.
Eventually, his hands fell to his lap.
He was a man defeated, and I loathed the sight. Tears ran continuously down his cheeks. Hunched over, shoulders slumped, fingers trembling.
He’d taken off his wedding ring, I noticed.
That was a surprise.
“I don’t know how to live anymore,” he whispered thickly. “I died with Patrick, and I breathe for Finn. Or because of him. If I didn’t have—” He put his fist to his mouth and took another breath. “If it weren’t for Finn and my grandson…”
I could venture a guess.
“I’ve thought about it,” he admitted and wiped his cheeks. “I know exactly which pills to take to numb the pain. Where I’d point the gun or which bridge to jump off of.”
I swallowed hard and clenched my jaw.
Shan broke down again and covered his face with his hands. “I can’t leave this world, and I can’t stay in it. I don’t know what to do.”
Fuck me. His pain seared through me, and I had to clear my throat and blink past the burn in my eyes. He’d never been this open before. But he was exposed now. It was easy to tell. In the darkness, he was completely stripped of his filters.
“Finn still needs you,” I stated. “Being an adult doesn’t take that away.”
He shook his head and wiped fruitlessly at the tears that fell. “He doesn’t need me—”
“Bullshit,” I argued. “Are you kiddin’ me right now, Shan? Most of his family’s been wiped out. He lost his biggest hero and role model when your pop was assassinated. Then Grace, the one person who could center him before he met Emilia. Now his big brother—” I stopped as he flinched, but I had to get this out. “Trust, he needs you. He misses you. He’s suddenly the boss of all the Sons, he just became a father, and we’re still cleaning the Italian stench off the streets. He needs your counsel, but most of all, he needs your support. He needs his dad, Shannon.”
Not that Finn had voiced any of this, but I knew my mate.
Shan sniffled, reaching for the smokes, and seemed to struggle with the fact that people might actually need him. It had to be his grief or something that clouded his judgment. Because I remembered a man who at least knew his worth. His place in the syndicate. He’d always been a well-respected Son.
“You can’t rush your grief,” I told him. “You’re still in your mourning period—”
“I’ll always be in mourning, Kellan,” he replied quietly but firmly. “There’s no getting over the loss of a child. I know that much. I know, with every fiber of my being, that losing a child is a pain that will never pass. All you can do is learn how to live alongside the pain.” He took a drag from his smoke and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m trying to compartmentalize, but I’m not there yet. For two or three weeks after I lost him, I buried myself in work. I smiled for my clients and made sure my schedule was packed every day.”
I remembered.
“I felt like a fraud,” he went on, his voice hoarse. “And I crashed eventually. I couldn’t keep it up.”
“You’re not supposed to.” I poured the vodka and exhaled some smoke. “No one expects you to smile for anyone.”
“That’s sometimes worse.” He shook his head slowly. “Pitying looks and lowered expectations—they merely serve as reminders of… Actually, everything is a reminder. There are no rights and wrongs, just a colossal number of wrongs. No balance. I can’t forget. I can’t unsee. I can’t point to something and say, this, this right here, helped. This brought me comfort. Because there is no comfort. It doesn’t exist.”
I wanted to have answers for him. I wanted to fix him.
I wanted to rescue him.
I believed him, every word he said, every hurt he expressed, but I also believed the desolation came from blindness. He had to give it time. The grief was so immense right now, as it should be, and there was no escape. And then…one day, I wholeheartedly believed he’d wake up and see that he had more to live for. That was what was missing. He didn’t see what he had to live for anymore.
“I’m sorry for ruining your first night home, boy.” He patted my knee briefly. “What a miserable sight you must’ve come back to.”
I didn’t want his apologies.
“Do you remember crashing outside my door?” I asked.
He furrowed his brow, then nodded minutely. “I was going to pick you up at the airport. And for some reason, I decided to wait outside your apartment so I wouldn’t forget.” Well, that made no sense at all, so he must’ve been drunk when he’d made that decision. “I can’t seem to stop at one or two drinks anymore.” With that said, he drained half his drink.