As I drove I found my whole body relaxing, not minding the silence, watching Ethan out of the corner of my eye every moment I had a chance. He was breathtaking, and I couldn’t explain it other than thinking of that moment right before it rained. The way a slight chill would fill the air and instinctively you would look up at the clouds, only to see them darken, lightning flickering through as it crawled over the sun and blocked the light. It was beautifully frightening and romantically catastrophic…that was Ethan when he became silent like this. It made me hold my breath. It made me sensitive to every move he made. From the way his eyes would shift from one person to another on the sidewalk to the way he’d tilt his head to the side, his arm rested on the door, every once in a while tapping his knuckles on his bottom lip, then gently rubbing his lip over the side of his finger.
I wasn’t simply turned on, but desperate. I wanted to know what was on his mind. I wanted to fall into the world he was losing himself in.
“There.” He pointed to the store. Confused but not arguing with him, I parked in front of the local Masters and turned to him. “Let’s go.”
Nodding, I followed him out. He stood in his navy suit and light purple shirt, sizing up the place. Without looking at me, he stretched out his hand, and I put the key in it. He glanced down at it and smirked, locking the car, placing it in my purse and taking my hand.
Oh.
“Look who’s all sweet again. You could have just asked for my hand,” I said, trying to ignore the heat radiating through his hand to mine and the rest of my body.
“Noted,” he said, swiftly killing my attempt to engage in conversation as we entered the store, the bell at the front door ringing as we did.
“Can I help you…?” the blonde teenage female started to say automatically until she looked at Ethan and she gawked for a moment, then became very…smiley, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Welcome to Masters. Do you need help finding anything?” she asked him because apparently I was invisible.
I was going to say something, but Ethan, letting go of my hand, walked past her like…well, like she wasn’t there, moving to the rack of clothes and looking through them.
“We’ll let you know.” I smirked at her, and for the first time she looked at me.
“Uhh, yeah, okay,” she muttered, a little embarrassed as she stepped aside, moving the cart of clothes she was hanging up for me to go through. Walking up next him, I watched as he grabbed a few things.
“We’re changing.” He let me know, reading a tag.
“Why?”
He paused and looked at me like he was confused as to why I was asking. “Because we look showy.”
“I’m pretty sure your cousin Nari lectured me on the importance of dressing showy.” Hence the reason for the painful pretty heels always on my feet.
“Chicago rules don’t apply here,” he said, pulling out a black wool men’s coat, and moved to another rack, but I grabbed his arm. He paused, allowing me to step in front of him.
Looking directly at his green eyes, I asked him the question that was starting to eat me up inside.
“What is going through your mind, Mr. Callahan?” I asked softly, reaching up to touch his hairline, and he didn’t back away or flinch, allowing me to do it. “When you change moods like this I’m not sure what to say or do.”
Leaning forward, he kissed my forehead and my heart started to race. “Find clothes, Mrs. Callahan.”
Just like that he walked around me.
Swallowing the lump in my throat and running my hands through my hair, I did what he asked. Grabbing some dark skinny jeans in my size along with a blood red blouse, black sneakers, and jacket, by the time I’d finished he was already standing beside me waiting.
“Take my hand,” he said this time when he outstretched his hand.
“That wasn’t asking,” I told him, taking it anyway.
“Noted,” he repeated, leading me back into the dressing rooms. I tried to go to the women’s side, but he pulled me to the bigger one with him, locking the door behind us. He tossed the clothes onto the small bench, reached into his jacket, and put the gun down there as well. Kicking up his foot, he undid the laces of his shoes then reached around his ankle, pulling out the slim knives. From the left ankle he took out a smaller gun.
Jeez. How did I not notice? All his clothes were always fitted and…my mind trailed off when he started to unbutton his shirt. Watching him work down the buttons quickly made my ears hot.
“Damn it, Ivy.” He sighed.
“W—”
Pushing me up against the mirror, his hands at the sides of my face as his lips covered mine, his tongue was already in my mouth, rolling over my own, tasting every corner of my mouth. His body pressed up between my legs and I wanted more, eagerly pulling at his belt, but he grabbed my hands, pinning them over my head. Only then did we pull back from each other and just barely, huffing, trying to catch our breaths.
“I’ve never had such a hard time thinking before you, do you realize that?” He snapped at me, squeezing my wrists a little tighter. “I could feel the lust rolling off you from the moment we drove off.”
“It is your fault! I’m burning and you’re the one who set the fire. So either you let me burn or you do something about it!”
He inhaled through his nose, and reaching under my dress, he yanked my underwear to the side and with no warning or remorse he rammed himself into my pussy.
“Uhh!” I cried out, gripping onto his shoulders, my eyes struggling to open as he pulled out and did so again. In the back of my mind I was well aware that the girl outside the stall could hear me moaning like a porn star and see the stall shaking, my bare ass pressed up against it as he fucked me so hard the heels fell off my feet and my toes curled, my arms wrapping around his shoulders.
“E…than.” I gripped his hair, my mouth wide-open as I came along with him. Frozen with both our chests pressed against each other, I could feel his heart racing…or maybe it was mine. He unlocked my legs from his waist, setting them on the ground, and stepped away. He put his arms up at either side of my head and hung his own.
“Ethan…”
“I’m going to need you to support me,” he muttered and finally looked up at me, and I swear it was like his eyes were glossed over with something. “Trust that when I choose what I’m going to do, you’ll be the first to know.”
“You ask for a lot of trust from someone you barely know.”
“Do I?” He kissed my lips and pushed away, completely taking off his trousers and pulling up the jeans meanwhile I was the one with cum between my legs. Luckily, I still had facial wipes in my purse. It took a lot to embarrass me…it rarely happened. But there wasn’t anything attractive or sexy about the after-sex cleanup part. Another thing guys got away with—
“What are you doing?” I asked, startled as he took the wipe from my hands and pressed it on my inner thigh, sliding it up between my legs.
“I’m surprised you of all people are embarrassed in front of me.” He smirked.
“Me too!” I really was…until I realized I didn’t want him to see me as anything but sexy.
“Oh...” I moaned at his hand.
He bit his lip and kissed the side of my cheek. I loved how he kissed wherever he wanted over and over again. “Baby, I’m begging you…calm down until after we are done for the day. I’ll fuck you first and make love to you second, but I need to work, so please stop moaning, and for the love of all that is holy, stop screwing me with your eyes.”
He always blamed it on me. “You’re the one who keeps coming back.”
“I’m weak for you. What can I say?” He winked, throwing the wipe into the small trash can in the corner.
I was weak for him too. Much weaker than I thought. This time when he backed away I was able to focus enough to strip down and get dressed up again. Putting on the jacket, I grinned, loving the way it fit, especially the jeans.
“Beautiful,” Ethan said to me, already dressed and putting his second gun back around his ankle, standing far hotter in his outfit than me. He’d gone with dark blues and blacks, even with combat boots.
“Ditch the suit for this as often as you can,” I said, pressing my hand on his V-neck shirt.
“Nothing is better than a three-piece suit,” he reminded me, taking my hand again before opening the door.
“Our clothes—”
“Leave it,” he replied, leading me to the front counter where three girls, all of whom were blushing, well, two were blushing, one of them smiling as if she’d been the one he’d fucked, stood.
“For the clothes,” Ethan said, placing a couple bills on the table, and then added more. “And the noise.”
“Babe.” I pulled him toward me and the door when I could see the stars forming in their eyes. “Let’s go.”
“Thanks for shopping. Come again!” the one who smiled shouted as we got to the car. Ethan glanced back at her and winked before getting into the passenger side.
After changing, and fucking, it finally felt like I could breathe easy again.
“Where are we going next?”
“A block party. Apparently, you already know where.” He yawned, reclining in the seat. “I’m looking forward to meeting your cousins, much more now.”
Was he out of his mind? “You want to go—”
“Shh…” He dared to cut me off, eyes still closed. “I’m preparing to be dramatic.”
“Fine, trust the girl who was locked up for a DUI and has a suspended license to drive herself to a party. Hopefully, it doesn’t rain.”
“I will,” he said, and I was sure he drifted off.
I felt a little spoiled, but I really wished he hadn’t sent his guys off. I wanted them to drive so I could just lie on top of him.
I was becoming that obsessed.
I tried to keep my road rage in check as I drove toward my old neighborhood. Luckily nothing ever really changed around this side of town. The closer we got, the more I felt my heart thumping. It happened too fast. One minute I was trying to prepare myself, the next I was pulling to a slow stop at the end of the street. The neighborhood was full with food, beer, and the Irish, all of them walking up and down the street between rows of townhouses, to the yellow two-story house at the end of the block.
“Welcome home,” I whispered to myself, holding on to the steering wheel tightly.
“Don’t think of it as home,” Ethan whispered, still with his eyes closed.
“Just because I married you doesn’t mean I’m just going to throw—”
“A home is where you’re always welcome. It’s where you don’t have to whisper to yourself ‘welcome home’ because you’re worried no one else will. It’s where you come back and they throw the block party for you, not invite you to one already happening,” he said, surgically cutting out what was left of my heart.
“Thanks,” I muttered, slowly driving down the lane toward the house.
Sitting up, he checked the watch on his wrist. “Don’t thank me until I make you feel at home here.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant and he didn’t bother explaining. Once I parked, his eyes were cold again.
“We won’t be staying long. No matter what, don’t show fear. They aren’t going to do anything tonight,” he said to me, opening the door, and I followed him out. He didn’t take my hand this time, but stood close, walking a pace in front of me, past the iron fence, toward the back of the doors.
“Oh, my bad,” some guy stated, knocking into Ethan’s shoulder, his beer spilling a bit on his jacket.
Ethan glanced down at it and then at him. His friends were all rushing to get inside. He looked no older than twenty-two. Maybe.
“You’re good,” he said, though it was of no use.
The guy was gone, wandering inside. People passed us, no one really recognizing either of us.
“Musha ring dumb a do dumb a da.” Elroy stood on the table, already drunk, his brown hair in a faded in buzz cut, singing with four other men around him. His father’s dog tags hung off his neck as always.
I scanned the yard, looking for them…Pierce and Rory. I was sure they’d be here. Rory would come if only to tell me to get over it and show off how happy she was in my face.
“Ethan!” Elroy yelled, putting his hand over his eyes to see better. “Ethan Callahan, that you? Well, lookie here, everyone, we got a Callahan on the block!”
He jumped off the table and it became so silent even I didn’t believe it. Everyone’s eyes were on us, leaning over tables and each other just to see better. Elroy came over to us first, stopping only a few feet from Ethan and bowing. “Your royal assness, welcome to our humble abode.”
People snickered.
Someone even yelled, “Kiss the ring!”
While another yelled, “Say hello to my little friend.”
Which only made people laugh now. However, Ethan ignored them, all of them, including Elroy, walking around him toward the cooler. He took one of the beers, popped it open, and handed it to me before taking a second one. He drank it in one go and threw it to the side, letting it shatter on the ground before taking another and sitting at the same picnic table Elroy had just danced on.
“You grew up here. Tell me the beer gets better after the second one,” Ethan spoke but only to me.
“It’s actually around the third,” I said, taking a sip and then bunching my face. “Correction. If you’re used to it, after the second one it’s gold, but take a break for seven years and it tastes like rat piss.” I cringed, staring at the bottle.
“When I was eight,” he said and went on pretending as if everyone wasn’t looking, “my father took me to this pub in Ireland. When he went to the back to…get work done, I sat at the bar and mixed some Guinness and Irish coffee and moonshine together.”
“You didn’t.” I wanted to puke.
He nodded, taking a drink. “Tasted exactly like this. I was drunk off my ass.”
“You drank all of it?”
“I had to. My father told me I couldn’t bitch out. Next time I’d be careful playing Mr. Scientist.”
“ARE YOU FUCKIN’ DONE?” Elroy hollered at us, and we both looked at him.
Ethan glanced around and then back at him. “Are you talking to me?”
“You know I am—”
“Why?” he cut him off, which would only piss off Elroy more. “As far as I know, I’m just a guest. I didn’t realize I needed to make a speech or somethin’.”
Elroy stepped into his face and again Ethan didn’t move, just drank. “You think you can come into my neighborhood—”
“Your neighborhood?” A very familiar voice came to the right of us. Shifting, I saw him. Cillian with his brown-red hair shaved at the sides and thick beard. He came out of the house holding a rack of steaks in both hands. Behind, Pierce Donoghue, my ex-fiancé, was carrying the ice on his shoulders. Once Cillian gave the steaks over to the man at the bar, he grabbed a towel, wiping his hands as he came over to us. “Little brother, you seem to forget the neighborhood belongs to everyone. It’s our neighborhood right, Ivy?”
“Ivy?” Elroy frowned, looking me up and down. “I don’t believe it. Who would have known there was such a pretty face under that dog hair?”
“Elroy, how about you let Shay know her daughter is back,” Cillian told him, and Elroy looked between him and Ethan, shaking with rage. Apparently he wasn’t only spoken down to because of his height.
“I thought you said your mother died?” Ethan asked me casually as Elroy walked away.
I nodded, moving to sit next to him. “I have no idea who they’re talking about.”
“Hmmm.” He glanced back at him. “Fgory, you hear her? She doesn’t know who you’re talking about.”
Elroy threw the beer on the ground, ready to jump. Cillian pushed him back. “Go cool off!”
“You just gonna let him disrespect me like that in our house—”
“Sorry.” Ethan kept pushing his buttons. “Was that not your name?”
“Cool off.” Cillian sneered at him again.
He ripped his arm away from him, turning back and marching toward the fences, kicking them as he went. I noticed a few others following after him. I was sure Ethan noticed too.
“Cillian Finnegan.” Cillian outstretched his hand. “Seeing as how introductions are needed.”
Ethan glanced at his hand then back at him, the bottle hovering over his lips. “Ethan Callahan,” he said and drank afterward, not shaking his hand. He nodded at me when he was done. “My wife, Ivy Callahan.”
“You don’t need to introduce her. Ivy’s family.” Shay walked out of the house, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, her square face and micro-thin brows even more pronounced. Rory came out dressed in short shorts, a plaid shirt around her waist, and a sweater tank. She hugged Pierce first, her brown eyes on me.
“I thought you said you had no more family?” Ethan asked again.
“I thought I answered this question.”
“Right.” He nodded to himself then looked at her. “She doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”
I snickered at that.
“Ivy, I know you’re upset,” Rory said in this weird, childlike voice. “About Pierce and I really loving each other—”
“I’ll honestly pay you to stop talking like that.” I cringed then looked at Pierce. “Are you really into that kind of voice shit? Dodged a bullet with that one.” I lifted the beer and tapped it over his.
“Oh, now that you married into money you think you’re better than us?” She put her hands on her hips. “You think you’re too good for your own family now?”
“Family?” I said and looked at Ethan, who grinned with the beer at his lips.
“She doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”
We both snickered.
Cillian tried to cut in. “Seeing as Ivy’s memory is on the short end, how about we all just enjoy—”
“She doesn’t know what we’re talking about?” Pierce spoke up and when he did I groaned, putting my head on Ethan’s shoulder, already knowing where this was going.
“Forgive him, for he knows not what he does,” I said just loud enough for everyone to hear and soft enough that I could still speak closely in his ear.
“Oh, pretend now, but seven years ago you were the one begging and crying about how you didn’t know how you were going to live without me. How no one understood you but me—”
“And I only ever think about having sex with you,” I said aloud, adding, “Oh my God, when I’m with you I see stars…yep, all of those were lines from Katharine Duong’s novel So What, I Faked It.” I spoke up to the rest of the observers, who’d spend the next decade making up shit to add to this story. “It’s a great novel, ladies, especially when you’re dealing with a micro.”
They couldn’t help it; all of them started to laugh and covered their mouths. Even Ethan snickered, glancing over at him.
“I thought you liked me jealous. You should have let him at least pretend.”
“You little—”
“SHUT UP!” Cillian finally broke his cool, hollering at them. “Goddamn, can I get a word in or are you two buffoons going to keep trying to make a psychopath feel something for you two?”
Psychopath. I’d been back here less than an hour and the label was already stuck back on my forehead.
Rory wrapped her arm around Pierce, pulling him closer to her.
“Now, are you two done pretending as well?” Cillian glared at me.
“Pretending?” Ethan questioned.
“Sorry to break it to you, Ethan, but we aren’t as stupid as you think we are. Ivy called us from prison two weeks ago, and now all of a sudden she’s married to you? Why?” He didn’t direct that question to us, but to the crowd he was trying to win over.
“Do tell,” Ethan interjected, but Cillian overlooked him.
“For years now some has-been and his has-been family is trying to wiggle himself back into Boston. Trying to make us bow the fuck down. Like his pop. His father’s pop and his great-granddad before him. All to pay taxes out of our own businesses to a family that ain’t lived here for generations.” There were grumbles over that. A few of the older men spat to the left of themselves and stood taller, as if they were ready to fight if needed.
“All of us getting called up when your family gets itself on the brink of ruin.” His eyes shifted to Ethan. “Pretending to be Irish when we all really know you’re nothing but mutts.” He wasn’t done. No, he had to get a clean shot at me too. “Ivy, I loved you like a little sister. I promised your father I’d watch out for you—”
“Was that before you killed him? Or did you make that promise in prayer while Rory framed me for a crime she committed?”
More people began to mutter, but Cillian just rolled it off. “Were you so desperate to get out that you’d believe any lies he told you and whore yourself out to him?”
My fist clenched and Ethan shattered the bottle in his bare hands, the glass cutting his hands, the little of the beer that was left pouring onto the patchy grass. Eyes narrowed, he glared at him. “If you want to insult someone, keep it directed at me, not my wife. You don’t speak to a woman like that and you sure as fucking hell don’t talk to my woman like that.”
“The woman you’ve been with for what, three days?” He snickered. “Excuse me if I don’t take your shame seriously. You played her. Fine, but you aren’t—”
“For some odd reason all of you are under the impression that I married Ivy for Boston.” He took my hand, stepping onto the grass and standing with me. “That I’m so desperate to hang on to all of you, and this city, I married a woman I didn’t know. How arrogant can you all be? I didn’t marry Ivy from Boston. I married Ivy, daughter of Sean O’Davoren, the same Sean O’Davoren, who, when me and my siblings were kidnapped, kept us safe until we could get back home. I married Ivy, who was once the freakishly tall ten-year-old who fed the cats in the basement.”
He actually laughed, but I was frozen, his grip on me tightening. Just as quickly as he laughed it was gone and he was deadly serious again. “Everyone likes to think my family spends our days scheming and plotting…that is whenever we aren’t taking milk baths and eating with diamond forks. But the truth is, I’m just a guy who married his long-time crush. If you all want the Callahan family out of Boston, fine, that is your right.” He took out his phone and dialed three numbers. “And it’s done. We’ll leave as soon as Ivy finishes up some business and our honeymoon is up. Thank you for the shitty beer.”
He pulled me along. I could feel my legs walking, but my mind was elsewhere…it was on his previous confession. I knew him? Before now I knew him?
“Do you really expect me to believe that?” Cillian called out from behind us. “Especially after what you did to Eamon Downey?”
“Mr. Downey was a personal messenger, but since you didn’t get it, let me be clearer. Neither you nor your shit-faced brother is good enough for my sister. Look at her again and I’ll bust your teeth in personally.”
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
I jumped, startled, refocusing on him again only to see the power lines around us start to explode, sparks flying off all of them one by one, raining over us like dying fireflies.
“That’s going to be a pain in the ass to fix,” Ethan said, unbothered. “But then again that is no longer my problem. So what are a few sparks between neighbors?”
I didn’t understand what he meant until I walked out from the house, Elroy and his gang sitting on the front porch, some of them lifting their phones, trying to get the signal working, as we walked past the car toward the house across the street. Finally, after holding it in since we’d landed, the sky, as if it knew Ethan was finished with them, unleashed the rain it had been holding back. The thunder rippling through the clouds, the rain beat the earth with a vengeance just as we made it to the only house on the block that now had power.
Note to self. Ethan has a flair for the dramatic.
When we stepped through the door, the light immediately coming on, she pulled away from me gently. In a trance-like state, her blue eyes scanned over the foyer and the horrid wallpapered walls, the old couch, the pink shaggy carpet, and the television…a box television. The whole house was frozen in whatever my mother said the ’80s left behind. It was as tacky as tacky could be, like the house of someone’s dead great-grandmother coming back to haunt them…it was all of that and yet comfortable.
Turning to the left, she walked into the kitchen, directly toward the sink cabinet, pulling out a bottle of wine. She lifted it up, tilting her head to the side like she didn’t expect it to be there. Blinking a few times, she put it down on the counter then reached up, opening the cabinet and taking out two mugs. The first had an owl winking and the other what looked to be a drunk cat. She put them down next to the wine and put her fingers against the back of the cabinet until it opened, revealing a hole in the wall from where she pulled out stacks upon stacks of dusty bills. She didn’t stop until she had about half a million sitting on the counter. Something that would have made a normal person happy, but instead she started to tear up when she turned back to me.
“I remember now.” Her bottom lip quivered. “Everyone called me crazy, they threw rocks at me, and even my father denied it…denied that I ever met a boy in the basement of this house…that boy was you, wasn’t it? This is a safe house, isn’t it? My father hid you guys here, didn’t he…that’s why they died? Because of you…because of me?”
Before the truth came the painful removal of ignorance…my wife was living proof of that.
I’d told my grandmother we’d have to tell her the truth and lie to her. Well, the truth was my family didn’t kill hers. But they did die because of me.