Page 38 of Dublin Charmer (Emerald Isle Mafia #5)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Nyx

S ix Months After Leaving – July

The Mediterranean sun streams through the open windows, casting golden light across the terracotta tiles. I stare at my phone, Finn’s contact photo glowing on the screen. My thumb hovers over the call button.

Six months. Six months since I left Dublin with Gio. Six months of missing Finn and the life I glimpsed for those short weeks we were together. Has he given up on me? Has he moved on?

I take a deep breath and press call before I lose my nerve. Each ring makes my stomach tighten. Part of me hopes he won’t answer.

“Nyx.” His voice comes through immediately, eager despite the hour. It must be close to midnight in Dublin.

“Hey, Charmer.” The words catch in my throat. How can three syllables hurt so much?

“I’m glad ye called. I was thinkin’ about ye earlier today.” There’s a smile in his voice that crushes me. “I found this coffee shop that makes these Italian pastries that melt in yer mouth. When ye come home, I’ll take ye there to see if they’re as good as the real deal.”

“I’d like that.”

“So, when do ye think that might be, luv?”

I don’t know what to tell him. I move to the balcony, looking out at the impossibly blue sea. Mallorca is paradise, but it feels like exile. The silence on the line grows tense, and I know I’m losing my nerve.

I can’t do this. Not over the phone.

“So, is this it, then?” His voice drops, all warmth evaporating.

“I hope not. I’m still trying, hoping… but I know this isn’t working.”

“It could work, but ye don’t call, and ye told me I can’t call.” The edge in his voice is new—harder, sharper.

“Because it upsets him to know we’re still talking.”

“Babe, ye gotta stop letting Gio dictate yer entire life.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? When was the last time you made a decision that wasn’t about what Gio needed?”

I grip the railing. “He’s my brother. He’s all I have.”

“That’s shite, and ye know it.” Finn’s anger crackles through the phone. “My family and I are here for ye. But ye pretend we don’t exist because it’s easier than making yer brother sad. He’s a grown man. He needs to learn to stand on his own.”

“He was tortured, Finn. He lost a huge part of himself because of Gravely, but he lost even more before that. He was there when the Rossi compound was attacked. He was devastated when Papa was killed.”

“He wasn’t the only one! Yer all about what he’s been through, but ye suffered the same losses. But ye don’t get to heal because yer too busy being his emotional support animal.”

The words hit like a slap. “That’s harsh.”

“What’s harsh is watching ye throw away yer life— our life —because yer brother is too selfish to see what this is doing to anyone beyond himself. Or maybe he does see it, but is too afraid of losing his place in yer life to care.”

I press my palm against my eyes, willing the tears back. “He’s not like that.”

“I really hope he’s not. I hope he spends his days tied up in knots and worried about yer well-being, the same as yer doing for him. That he puts yer needs first.”

That’s not our dynamic, but it wouldn’t do any good to mention that with him so upset. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, Finn. None of this is fair to you. Still, getting away was the right call. Gio is much better.”

“That’s fantastic. So, what’s the problem?”

“Thinking about me going back into your world is a trigger for him. Any time the subject comes up, it undoes all the progress he’s made.”

“Are you sure that’s it, or does he just want ye at his beck and call?”

“Stop it! It’s not like that. You have brothers. If one was suffering, what wouldn’t you do for him?”

“But that’s the difference, luv. None of my brothers would destroy my happiness to ensure their own. That’s not love. That’s an unhealthy attachment. He’s dependent, and at his age, that’s not healthy.”

I grip the railing in front of me and draw a deep breath. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

His voice softens. “Tell me ye’ll push for him to see a professional. Him feelin’ better is great, but a therapist will make him do the work to make sure he truly deals with things.”

“He refuses. He says he only needs me.”

“Then go yerself. Talk to someone about yer situation. Learn how to deal with his attachment.”

I lean against the wall, sliding down until I’m sitting on the cool tile. “I don’t want to talk to a stranger about things. It hurts too much to even think about it.”

“Then yer stuck, luv. Both of ye are stuck, and neither of ye will do the work to get past the pain ye’ve suffered.”

Hot tears stream down my cheeks as I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’m tired, Finn… tired of being torn in two.”

“Then let me come. We’ll work it out together.”

I close my eyes, imagining Finn here, in this beautiful place. Walking the beaches with me, exploring the ancient streets. Sleeping beside me every night.

“Gio would never accept that.”

“Fuck Gio.” Finn curses on the other end of the line. “Yer being played, luv, and ye refuse to see it. Whether it’s intentional or not, yer brother has ye under his thumb, holding ye there with emotional blackmail the same way Billy Gravely did.”

I gasp. “You can’t possibly believe that.”

Finn is quiet for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is controlled, but I can hear the pain underneath.

“I know yer heart, Emilia. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed or how much distance is between us. Ye could be happy with me if ye wanted to be, but ye don’t. Ye chose yer brother over me when ye left, and ye continue to choose him even now that he seems better.”

I pull my knees up to my chest. “I can’t be happy if he’s not.”

“But that’s the problem. Ye decided his happiness matters more than yers. More than mine.”

“Finn—”

“No, don’t. If ending us is what ye need to do, then do it. But don’t pretend it’s for yer sake or for mine. The only person who wins by ye ending us is yer brother.”

I can barely breathe through the tightness in my lungs. “I’m so sorry.”

“Aye, me too.”

The call ends, and I sit there, phone clutched to my chest, sobs wracking my body. The beautiful view blurs through my tears. Did we just break up? I honestly don’t know. That wasn’t what I intended, and it certainly isn’t what I want.

I don’t know how long I sit there before I hear Gio’s footsteps.

“Emi?” He kneels beside me, concern etched on his face. “What happened?”

I can’t speak, can only shake my head as he pulls me into his arms.

“Was it him?” The edge in Gio’s voice is unmistakable. “Did Quinn upset you?”

“I think we broke up,” I manage between sobs.

Gio’s arms tighten around me. “It’s for the best, sorella . You know that.”

“Do I?”

“Of course. Look at you—every time you talk to him, you fall apart. That’s not love, that’s torture.”

I pull away, wiping my face. “It hurts because I love him, Gio.”

He brushes hair from my face with gentle fingers. “Breaking it off is a good thing. It may not feel like it right now, but you’re free. Free from Dublin, from organized crime, from all of it. Isn’t that what we always wanted? After losing Papa. After losing everyone we loved?”

Was it? I can’t remember anymore. Honestly, I don’t care.

The truth is, I don’t want to be free of Finn. I want a life with him.

I look at my handsome, younger brother. The shadows under his eyes have faded. His laughter and smiles come more easily now. He’s better. But as he helps me to my feet, his arm protective around my shoulders, I realize Finn was right.

I’m not getting better.

Gio may have been taken prisoner, but so was I.