Page 7 of Destructive Truths

“Hey, Boss Man,” Aodhán greets with a smile. Thankfully, he’s too busy sliding from his stool to notice my widened eyes. Boss Man, the nickname tumbles around my head, repeating over and over.

Boss Man.

Boss Man.

Boss Man.

That’s the same name Rohan used earlier when he was on the phone to— My heart pounds against my rib cage, and blood rushes to my ears, filling my eardrums with a thumping rhythm. I will myself to turn, to look at the man behind me… possibly the second half of my DNA. My limbs are shaking, but I force myself to rise from my chair and turn on my heel.

Greeted by an impeccably fitted navy three-piece suit, covering a broad frame, the man before me is fecking huge. His large, tattooed hands tug his crisp white shirt cuffs as he floods the doorway with his large presence. Finally, my eyes lock on his face, and a gasp bubbles in the base of my throat. It’s been a few years since I last saw him, but there is no doubt about it. This suit-clad man is the same man who taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, and how to fucking fish. I’ve met him many times before today—every summer at the cabin until I turned thirteen. “La-Lachie.” His name scratches my throat as it stutters from my open mouth.

“Hello, doll. It’s been a dot in time.”

Holy fucking shit! I’ve known my dad all along.

FIVE

SAOIRSE

I’m frozen to the floor, trapped in an all-consuming standoff with a set of eerily familiar eyes. It’s ludicrous that I’ve never put the puzzle together before, especially when my gaze bores into a face I’d spent endless summer days with… Lachie, the friendly giant from the cabin next to ours. Devin’s—or should I say Liam’s—godfather.

My heart thunders as I roam over his expensive tailored suit. A far cry from the old, worn jeans and eighties rock ’n’ roll band tees my younger self remembers.

“I’m your daughter, aren’t I?” It feels like a rhetorical question because I already know his reply. I can see it in how he looks at me. But I need to hear it out loud.

My eyes never leave his, daring him to tell me the truth painted in the golden amber shade of his irises. A replica of my own.

“Aye.”

How? Why?

The silent questions crash through my entire body, hitting me with the weight of a proverbial freight train, stealing the breath from my lungs until I’m all but smothered beneath years of treacherous lies.

There are so many things I want to say, so many answers I need to hear, and yet, all I can do is stare. Instead, my words are held prisoner by the giant lump forming in the back of my throat.

A tremor of anger reverberates up my spine, spreading like a blazing inferno through every inch of my core. Seventeen years I’ve spent craving the love of a man who I thought abandoned my mother and me. When, in reality, he’s stood on the sideline of my life. Every summer, he played pretend, made me wish I had someone like him in my life to guide me.

Oh, the irony!

Lorcan steps forward, his face twisted in pain. “Saoirse, let me ex—”

My hand shoots out, halting his pursuit. “Don’t.” My throat tightens. “Just… stay away from me.” Closing my eyes, I attempt to rifle through my feelings, but one after the other, they consume me—sadness, fear, disappointment, and anger. They blend, twisting in my gut, forming a hurricane spiral that shakes me to my core.

How could they? I spent most of my life wondering why my father never wanted me, never cared enough to show up when I needed him. All along, he was right there, dropping into my life for a few measly summer weeks, then vanishing with the first sign of autumn leaves. Why would they do this to me? They should’ve told me. Maybe then I wouldn’t have felt so lost, as though a vital piece of my existence was missing.

Finally, my eyes open, and I divert my attention to Aodhán, unable to look at the man who lied to me for all my life. Aodhán’s bluish eyes are wide globes, flicking between Lorcan and me.

It seems I’m not the only one who’s surprised by this revelation.

A deep crease mars his golden brow. “Holy fuck! You’re a—” He directs towards me, but Lorcan cuts him off.

“A Reilly and a Ryan,” Lorcan finishes. Suddenly, his gaze lands on me. “Sole heir to the Leinster and Ulster Syndicates.”

As if the deceit wasn’t bad enough, a tremor of shock trundles through me, and my jaw falls slack.

What the fuck did he just say?

Anxiety burns a trail towards my heart, scorching my chest with vicious flames. I shake my head, a sharp slice left and right, unable to process what he’s announced. My hands cover my face, and I breathe into my palms, releasing a slow puff of air. It’s all too much, and I’m struggling to stay afloat.

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