Page 33

Declan
Historically speaking,Friday nights are hard for me. It’s the one night of the week we’re all together, under the same roof. Behind the bar. Working together.
It’s when I get a front-row seat to the Tess & Conner Show. When I get to watch my little brother put his arm around her. Whisper in her ear. Make her laugh. Take her for pancakes after we close the bar. Walk her home.
I know they’re just friends. That there’s no way they could ever be anything more. I’ve always known. But there is a big, black part of me—the same part of me that thinks kidnapping Tess is a logical plan of action—is jealous. Has always been jealous.
Henley’s reappearance has gone a long way toward curbing that jealousy.
Logan’s infiltration into our lives has created another.
What makes it worse is that I actually like the guy. If he wasn’t all over Tess, 24/7, I might actually take a stab at being his friend.
As it stands, I just want to stab him, plain and simple.
Probably why I don’t have a lot of friends.
Correction: it’s probably why I don’t have any friends.
I have family. I have employees. I have partners. But I don’t have friends.
I never did.
And really, who gives a shit? I don’t want friends. I don’t know how to treat them. Don’t know how to be one. I’m a taker. A user. Pretending to be anything else is exhausting.
Con isn’t the only Gilroy who was put together wrong.
It’s safer for everyone if I just keep doing what I’ve been doing for the past eight years. Keep my head down and mouth shut. Because when I try to help, things either get worse or I get my past thrown in my face.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket again. I don’t even have to look at it to know that it’s Jessica, although what she hopes to gain by calling me is anyone’s guess. And what would I say if I actually answered?
I’ve known about you and Viaga from day one.
I don’t give a shit if you suck his dick on the pitcher’s mound in Fenway during game six of the World Series.
I don’t love you.
I never loved you.
I’m using you to punish myself for being such a selfish prick for the majority of my life.
I don’t want to marry you.
I dig it out and silence it before tossing it onto the desk in front of me. We closed about an hour ago. I can see them on the computer screen that’s plugged into the security feed. Patrick and Cari are behind the bar, re-stocking for tomorrow. Con is whispering with Henley near the pool tables. She’s got a tray of empties tucked into her hip. He has one of his fingers threaded through her belt loop, using it to give her a tug toward him. My guess is he isn’t trying to talk her into going to midnight mass. He lifts his free hand and flips off the camera without even looking at it because he knows I’m in here and what I’m doing.
“Fuck you,” I mutter out loud, shifting my gaze away and toward the real reason I’m holed up in the office, creeping out on the security feed. Logan is pushing a broom around while Tess wipes down tables. Every once in a while, he makes his way to where she is and says something to her. Every time he does, she laughs. Smiles.
Jesus.
Tess is pretty. Dark hair. Hazel eye. Olive skin. Wide mouth. Sharp features.
But when she smiles, she’s fucking beautiful.
She’s never smiled at me.
Not even when we were together.
Not like that.