Page 36 of Lucky Strike

“Because.” She tugged my hair for emphasis. “I’ll never hear these songs again without thinking about you.”

My eyes drifted open. I rolled onto my side so that we were face to face, sharing a pillow. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“Neither.” She let go of my hair. “It’s bittersweet.”

“So, good and bad.”

“I guess.”

We fell quiet. One song ended, another began.

I drew my fingertip around her nipple until she caught it. “Did you get that summer camp job?”

“Yeah, thank God. I start a couple days after getting home.”

“Those poor boys. You’ll be the cutest counselor there.”

“Pfft, okay.” She chuckled, and the movement made her breasts jiggle. My dick stirred, but I ignored it. “What about you? Have you narrowed down your college choices yet? Time’s running out.”

“Yeah.” I pulled away, propping my hands behind my head as I stared up at the ceiling. I’d decided a while ago. “I’m going to Queen’s University, in Belfast.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time, and neither did I. When I finally looked over at her, she was gazing at the flowers I’d picked for her from my mother’s garden. The room was redolent with them, lilacs and daffodils and Bria’s very favorite, old-fashioned peonies. “That’s exciting, Lucky. I’m proud of you.”

Her words felt like a vise around my heart, squeezing it. I knew she meant them. Maybe that’s why they hurt. I wanted her to be proud of me, but she wouldn’t be if she knew what my future held. Suddenly, she pulled me close again, kissing me. I rolled onto her, unable to resist.

This time, she begged me not to stop.

This time, she wouldn’t let me go.

11.Bria

Now

I’m nerding out on psychological assessments in forensic settings when someone knocks softly at my door. I know, without asking, that it’s Conlan. Liam tends to barge in, something we’re working on, and Nola doesn’t come in on Saturdays.

Bookmarking my page with an old receipt, I slip from the window seat and answer the door. Sure enough, my boss is on the other side. Shelby and Bacon flank him, betas to his alpha. The knot that’s been in my stomach all week tightens. We haven’t spoken since we argued in his office. “Hope I’m not bothering you.”

“It’s fine.” I tug at my old t-shirt. Weekends are more relaxed around here, especially when Conlan’s home and hanging with Liam, so I’ve been bumming it in my room.

“I take Liam to Sunday Mass when I’m in town,” he begins, folding his arms. “We usually meet my parents, Maeve, and Tristan and then go to brunch after. Would you want to go?” Before I can respond, he clears his throat. “Liam asked me to ask you.”

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t sure if you still went.”

“To Mass? Sometimes.” I twist my ring, thinking. “I wouldn’t mindgoing. With Liam.”

“Okay. I’ll let him know.”

Backing up, I start to close the door. “Wait, what time?”

He glances back. “We leave at ten.”

St.Brigid’s of Kildare is deep in Boston’s Southie neighborhood, a decent trek from Conlan’s townhouse in posh Beacon Hill. There are probably Catholic churches that are closer, but I know from Maeve that the Kellys have attended St. Brigid’s for generations. Owen and Sloane were married here. Their children were baptized here. They made their first communions and later on were confirmed here.

Liam insists on holding Conlan’s hand and mine as we cross the church parking lot, a little boy-bridge connecting strained parties. I wonder if he senses the tension between us, if it subconsciously drives him to force our proximity to one another.

Peeking up at me with a cheesy grin, Liam swings my arm extra hard. “Nana gives me mints if I’m good.”

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