Page 47

“Don’t tell me I don’t know my own son, Ayla.

” She sets her fork down with enough force it clangs on her plate.

“I most certainly know more than you think. And you’re missing a key piece of this whole thing.

I can’t say. I won’t, but you should know that pushing and pushing and pushing will fracture more than can ever be set right. ”

“Mom, I’m not the one pushing. The pressure is coming from one place. We can agree that there’s no repair when the fissures are under such tension that relief will only come from a break.” I take a sip of my water.

“You can’t lay this all at your father’s feet.”

“Should I lay it at yours? ”

She blanches. Speechless, she stares at me as if she’s never seen me before.

“I love you. At some point, I want kids. I want them to know you and I want you to know them. I can’t say the same thing about Dad.

I don’t trust that his anger won’t be triggered by who knows what.

I have bruises in the shape of his hand on my arm.

My eye socket is yellow from being slammed into a wall—” I stare at her.

“In. Your. Home. You think I’d sign my kids up for that?

No way in hell. And God forbid something remind him of my husband.

It’s bad enough that looking at his own daughter sparks that kind of rage.

Can you imagine if they look like Christian? ”

She swallows painfully as what little color she has drains from her face. Her hand shakes as she reaches for her water glass.

“So my question is, do you want to be a part of our lives in a manner I’m willing to offer? Or are you going to drag him in too? Because, right now, from everything I see, that’s a hard no.”

“Ayla.” Her voice quivers. “I so desperately want to meet your children.” A lone tear rolls down her cheek. “And Ci’s. And Liam’s.”

“And?”

She shakes her head as another tear trails the first. She pats it away gently with her napkin and plasters a fake smile on her lips. “One day, darling. One day.”

What the hell does that mean? And why is she wistful one moment and hell-bent on us not baiting Dad the next?

Our conversation returns to the banal, and we finish lunch and part ways. I have no clue what just happened.

I’m wandering toward my car when my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Ayla-girl.”

God, I love my brother.

“Hey, Li. What’s going on?”

“Can you meet me at Cian’s?”

I look at my watch, though I have no clue why. I have nowhere I need to be and no reason not to go. “When? ”

“As soon as you can get here.”

“You’re scaring me, Liam.”

“It’s not good, but there’s no need to be scared. We’ll be here when you get here.” He clicks off.

Me: I promised I’d check in. I had lunch with Mom and am heading to Ci’s. Liam called saying he needed to talk to us. I wanted you to know.

I hit send and am nearly to my Audi when my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Princess. What’s going on?”

I open the car and throw my purse on the passenger seat, dropping in and starting it.

“I don’t know.” I slide out onto Fillmore heading for East First. “I really don’t. I’m leaving Cherry Creek and going to Ci’s. I may need wine when I get there.”

“I didn’t know you were near me.” There’s disappointment in his voice.

“I met Mom here. Lunch was weird, by the way. I don’t know if things are worse than they were when I left their house. They’re definitely not better.”

“I’m sorry. I know you were hoping for a different result.”

“She’s acting like this is my fault. Or our fault. Me, Ci, Li. It’s as if nothing rests on Dad’s shoulders and certainly not on hers. I’m at a loss.”

“As if all of you are wrong…”

“Exactly. I know my memory has holes, but yours doesn’t. What am I missing? What gives?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Liam can shed some light. You should know I asked him to dig into your accident. And into your dad’s business.”

“You did? When?’

“After we got back from Beaver Brook. He may have found something and that’s why he’s asking you to meet, but I’d hope he’d loop me in too. Just be prepared, okay?”

“Okay, Honey. ”

“And, baby, if you need wine, I’ll have some waiting at the house or have one of your brothers drive you home.”

“Controlling much?” The humor in my voice should express that I’m not angry.

“Precious cargo. No need to take a risk.” The smile in his voice warms me to my core.

“Have you always been charming?”

“I only care to charm you, Princess. You’re the only woman worth the effort.”

Swoon.

“Love you. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way home.”

“Okay. Be safe.” He clicks off about the time I hit the light at Colorado Boulevard. I drop the top, crank up the radio, and let the wind, the noise, and the damn near denim-colored blue of the Denver skies drive away my crappy conversation with Mom.

In less than half an hour, I’m at Ci’s. I’m windblown, sun-reddened, and relaxed. If only for the moment.

The front door opens, and Eleanor bounds out. “Hello, gorgeous. I’ve missed you. When are we going on our next adventure?”

“Perhaps when you can avoid bears.”

I don’t look up into my brother’s face when I tell Eleanor, “We’re bear experts, aren’t we? Besides, we were locked and loaded.”

“Film doesn’t count.” My brother is beyond serious when I finally get to him.

“And bullets. How do you know about that anyway?”

He plants his hands on his hips and studies me. “You have the world’s most protective husband. He made sure I knew.”

“I’ve been out with Ellie a dozen times since.”

“It’s not Eleanor I’m worried about.” He reaches out and boops my nose.

I dive in for a hug from my big brother. “Of course, you’re worried about her. She’s perfection on four paws. And I’d never let anything happen to her.”

“You’d defend her. She’d defend you. I’m practically her spare human when you’re around. ”

“Never.” I pat his chest and make my way into the house and right into Liam’s broad chest.

He wraps me up in a rare hug. “Ayla-girl.” His words are low and gravelly, as if he only uses his voice when required. “Good to see you.”

“You could’ve stuck around for breakfast two mornings ago and seen me then.”

He does a shake-nod, neither committing or negating the comment, and says nothing further.

We pile into the kitchen. Liam and I take stools at the wide cream island as Cian paces the other side, wearing a pattern in the wide square tile.

“Well, Li, you called us here. What’s going on?” My oldest brother starts.

Liam takes a deep breath, his rust-colored beard dancing in the wake of his exhale, and lifts his Scally cap, rubbing a hand over his shaved head. “I’ve been researching. The attempt on Ayla’s life for one. Dad’s business for another.” He pauses. “Among other things.”

I suck in breath the exact moment Cian stops his pacing as if pierced by the betrayal at his words. His mouth opens but nothing comes out before Liam continues.

“Ma’s sick. PLS—Primary Lateral Sclerosis. She was diagnosed two and a half years ago.”

Um. What the fuck? Nearly three years ago?

“What does that mean?” My ask is quiet. The three of us could hear a pin drop anyway so there’s no need to shout, even if I could get past the tightening of my throat.

“Best I can understand, it’s neuro-muscular and degenerative, but not to the scale of MS or ALS. Not that I understand those either.”

“Is it—” Cian begins but swallows hard and coughs over whatever is lodged there. “Hereditary?”

I feel selfish for wondering the same thing. I’m glad he voiced my worry.

Liam whips out his phone and taps at the keys, before exhaling so hard, his body slumps. “No.”

Not that that makes it any better for her.

We all stare at each other.

“What now?” Cian asks. “Are there treatments? Two and a half years—” Eleanor comes to sit at his side, gazing up at him as if he may need her eyes for moral support. “What’s she done for it in that time?

“Were they going to tell us?” I add.

Liam shrugs.

Our questions can’t be answered by the people in this room.

“At the risk of throwing gas on kindling, I should tell you I just came from lunch with Mom.” I pause, thinking about the shaking in her hand, the one I wrote off as anger.

Come to think of it, it did that with her coffee earlier this week too.

“I’d hoped to clear the air after this.” I swirl my finger around my eye. “I don’t think that was accomplished.”

Cian reaches into the fridge and grabs a beer, extending one to Liam who accepts and another to me. I decline. Cian cracks it open and downs half the bottle before asking, “Why not?”

“Because Dad is Dad.” I tell them about the incident at their house, but focus on the dynamics between Mom and Dad, not the ones around me and him.

I tell them what Mom said about Cian and business and about Liam and Dad.

I mention that she said I didn’t know a key piece and she wouldn’t disclose it.

“You think she was talking about the PMS?”

Liam’s lips twitch. “PLS. And maybe.”

Cian cuts in, “She thinks I’ll just stand by as he tears you apart—” He waves a finger from me to Liam. “…writes off Liam entirely, controls Ma, and runs this business into the ground? Does she think I’m stupid or na?ve?”

“What about corruptible?” Liam offers.

I face Liam in shock. He knows better than to think Cian is underhanded.

Cian bows up to his full height. “What did you say?” His voice is lethally quiet.

Liam faces him straight on, not cowering, his eyes never leaving Ci’s. “Could she think you’d be in on Dad’s shady shit? ”

I’m tense watching their exchange. I swear breathing peanut butter would be less stressful.

Cian walks back and leans against the counter behind him, crossing his arms over his chest and dropping his chin. “Everything is above-board, Li.”

Liam shakes his head with some sadness. “Everything you’re involved in is above-board. Dad has some other stuff going and it’s… not.”

Cian looks up. “What can you tell me?”

“And protect you? Nothing yet.”

“Do I need protection?” Cian looks both ready to murder someone and vulnerable as a kid caught stealing.

Liam does that shake-nod thing again.

“What does that mean?” I interject.

“If you were ever considering going out on your own, now’s the time. If you’d rather lead Murphy Enterprises long-term, it’s time to step up and make some tough decisions.”

“Decisions like what exactly?”

“Like ousting the current CEO.”

Cian’s hands plant on the top of his head in defeat. “What the fuck, Li?”

Liam shrugs. “I need more time before I can say definitively.”

“But your advice is get out, take over, or get with the idea of doing something nefarious? Those aren’t viable choices.”

“They’re the ones you have.”

“Fuck.” My eldest brother drains his beer before staring at the ceiling. His Adam’s apple bobs like swallowing is no longer an automatic reflex. When his head comes back to level, he asks, “What would you do in my position?”

“Annihilate the motherfucker and put him out on his ass.”

“Of course you would.” I can’t help my snicker after that.

Liam shrugs; Cian looks stricken. I can assume that option is off the table since Cian and Liam operate from completely different motives. And unscrupulous or illegal isn’t Cian’s thing. He’s not gray. He’s the white hat type.

We stare at each other until Cian opens his fridge, pulls out two more beers, tilting one imploringly at me.

I wave it off, and he slides it to Liam who’s yet to finish his first. Cian cracks his and pulls deeply, draining it in one go.

“Here’s to starting a business in an industry that’s overcrowded, in a market that will slice my throat, during a shit economy. Yay me.”

Liam simply lifts his bottle in a toast.

“You can do it, Ci. I have your back. And if you need venture capital?—”

“Stop right there. Love you, sis, but I’m not taking your money.”

“Oh, I wasn’t volunteering mine. I was volunteering Christian’s.”

Liam snorts.

Cian looks offended. “Ayla, we’re competitors. Why in the world would he fund me? Don’t answer that. I’d never accept.”

“You know, if you were to niche down into something specific, you wouldn’t be competitors at all. It would be advantageous, actually. It could be mutually beneficial. And you don’t have to leave today. You have time.” Turning to Liam, I ask, “He has time, right? How much?”

Liam shrugs again. “It doesn’t have to be today, but the sooner the better.”

“Clear as mud,” Cian says at the same time I offer, “Well that’s no help.”

Liam drinks his beer as if it’s no sweat off his brow. Still waters run deep. Liam cares. He cares profoundly, but few people ever see it.

I reach out and run a hand over his shoulder. “Love you, Liam. You tend to shoulder a whole lot. Thanks for taking care of us.”

He pats my hand. “Of course, Ayla-girl.”

Cian clacks his bottle on the counter. “Now, what do we do about Ma?”