Page 55 of Mob Saint

“Tiera, Dillan was there when Colleen was murdered. They’d just gotten her a puppy, and the dog was in her arms. She was shot in the forehead, and Dillan caught her as she collapsed. He had to sit there, holding his baby sister in her pool of blood, while he called my aunt and uncle.”

“And you still want me anywhere near your family? Seamus, I told you this was a bad idea. I told you our families wouldn’t accept this. What?—”

“Tiera, stop. My family already knows I’m into you. One thing I can promise you with my family is that we know we don’t get to pick who we’re related to. If we did, none of us would be in the mob. You are not your dad any more than you are Vince since he’s your uncle or Gareth since he’s whatever kind of cousin he is. His actions one day five years ago aren’t being held against you. You are your own person, and my family knows you’re important to me. That’s what matters.”

“But how can they possibly trust me?”

“Because I trust you.”

“Now that I know what happened, how can you trust me? That’s probably one of the more fucked-up things that’s happened, but our families do not like each other.”

“I just told you. We know you aren’t your dad, uncle, or cousin. I trust you because you’ve given me no reason not to. Just the opposite. And I could make the same argument. How can you trust me? Especially now that you know I beat up your dad. Why aren’t you telling the driver to stop and let you out?”

“Because you are the most trustworthy person I know. You’ve proven it over and over.”

“See. We’re the same.”

“Bullshit. I haven’t done anything, and all you’ve done is protect me.” My stomach cramps acknowledging that.

“You make me happy.”

The way he says that. There’s no arguing against it. It’s too absolute.

“Do I make you happy because you get to rescue me?”

He stares at me. I think he’s at a loss for words for a moment.

“No. I don’t have some savior complex. I love watching you play soccer, and I love playing against you. I love the moments when you laugh, and your whole face lights up. I love the little bits of humor you let slip out when you know I’m getting upset. You know when I’m getting upset. You bring me a sense of calm I rarely feel when I’m not with you.”

“And I also upset you more often than not.” My stomach’s in some complicated Boy Scout knot.

“No. You do not upset me. The shite that’s happened to you upsets me. Those are not the same thing.”

“I’ll text my dad to see where he is. Regardless, should I tell him you’re coming with me?”

“That’s up to you. By the end of the day, he’ll know we’re together one way or another. It would probably be better coming from you. But if you think he’ll confront me before we finish with Gareth, then maybe wait until we’re back in the car. If he’s at Gareth’s, then he’ll know right away.”

“Okay.”

Me

Hey. I’m almost in Trenton. I have to see Gareth. I can’t put it off any longer so I’m going to his house. Are you there?

I watch my phone, but nothing pops up. I put it on my lap rather than back into the pocket I pulled it from. I’m still sitting twisted toward Seamus, so he squeezes my hip before patting it. I put my head back on his shoulder and close my eyes. But I don’t get to rest long before my phone vibrates.

Dad

No but I can head over there. I don’t want you to face him alone. He’s being a jerk about you not coming down sooner. I told him I don’t want to hear about it since you did him a favor. I don’t want him to light into you.

I look up at Seamus since he could see my screen when I typed my message and as I read this one.

“It’s up to you, Tiera. I’ll follow your lead.”

“This equality blows.” I grumble it, and he laughs. I’m only half joking. I appreciate he isn’t dictating to me how things are going to happen, but I’m scared.

I stare at my screen. Maybe my dad’ll think I’m driving, and that’s why I don’t respond right away. Maybe he’ll think I dictated the first message. I’m unprepared for Seamus to reach across me and unfasten my seatbelt. Instinct has me scrambling to fasten it again, a streak of fear exploding from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

But he scoops me up and nestles me against him. Will I ever get used to that? Zack couldn’t pick me up, which I always saw as a reflection on me being fat, not him being weak. Compared to Seamus, he was built like a boy not a man.

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