Page 21 of Brutal Savage

My father chuckles. “Can’t a father want to see his son?”

“You saw me two days ago.”

Cillian laughs, whispering, “He’s gonna harass you again.”

Fitting him with a glare, I clench my jaw.

“What?” He throws his palms in the air. “It’s not my fault.”

“You go get married and get some girl knocked up so he can leave me the hell alone.”

“I heard that,” my father says in his thick Irish brogue. “Now, you listen, son. You’re thirty-eight, you’re not getting any younger, and the women are sure as bloody hell not waiting around for you to smarten up. So you better get yourself a good one or I’ll do it for you.”

“Not happening. You’re not setting me up.” The words are etched with my obvious disdain.

“Well, then you don’t have much time to find yourself a suitable bride who’ll put up with ya.”

“I’d rather suck on a cactus than get married.”

Everyone laughs, while I’m seething.

This can’t be happening.

I groan internally at the thought of having someone in my space, taking over my time, wanting things from me I have no desire to give.

Falling in love, being vulnerable like that, makes you a target in my world. Makes you and those you love prey. I would think my father of all people could understand that after what happened to Mom.

“I told you,” he goes on. “Two months is all you have. Less now, actually.”

“Oh, Pat!” Fernanda shakes her head. “I’m sorry your father is such a pain in the ass.” She hits him with a disapproving look.

I hate to admit it, but she’s good for him. Fernanda and my father were high school sweethearts, and because she was Italian and he was Irish, their families didn’t allow them to get married. So he married my mother. And though he loved her, he loved Fernanda too. I don’t envy them.

Being alone is better.

Less hassle.

Less pain.

Less everything I don’t want.

All I care about is Brody. He’s my one and only priority. Assuming I find some random woman willing to marry me for money, how do I even know she’d be a good mother figure to him?

And if she’s not? I divorce her and throw her out and start at the beginning? And if we have kids, then what? I’m stuck with her for the rest of my life, divorced or not.

I can’t even think about that. Sounds like a fucking nightmare.

“Fine,” I tell my father just to appease him. “I’ll find someone.”

“Glad you’ve come to your senses.” He grabs Fernanda’s hand, kissing the top of it.

I mutter a curse to myself, heading for the bar at the corner, then remembering I can’t fucking drink because I’ve gotta get Brody from school in a bit. But at least I can hide here.

“That’s rough.” Devlin slaps a palm to my back.

Clearly, I can’t escape everyone.

“Don’t look so smug.”

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