Page 74 of Between Dusk and Dawn

Rain. Before my face fell, I managed to put up my I-don’t-care face. "It’s fine?—"

"Don’t do that." Her hand grazed on my elbow. "It’s okay to not feel okay about it, but he will come around. I just have to talk to him about it all. It is a huge surprise."

"No, of course." I added, "I get it."

Then something that Ember said struck a chord with me. "Wait, is it really Christmas Eve?"

She looked at me crossed-eyed. "I guess time just passed by so quickly." There was no excuse for it. My phone told me the date but being here alone was exhausting, and I hadn’t cared to pay attention to what day it was.

"Yeah. Walsh should be home tonight?" I gave her a curt nod, then thanked her for coming by and hearing my apology. She gave me a hug.

"Hey, listen. I know he has these gates guarded thoroughly, but I was able to get here by walking through the woods. Just go to the back, turn right, and then a quarter of a mile you’ll see my backyard which is not as guarded as this compound." She giggled before heading toward the door. I followed right behind her.

"And hey," she said, "there has to be a reason why you’re still in here and not in there." She gestured to the main house a few feet in front of us. "So, if you ever need an escape, I promise, no questions asked, come to my house."

"Thank you," I whispered as she opened the door, then her footsteps faded down the stairs. Once the door closed, I sank to the ground, leaning against the cool wooden surface. It was Christmas Eve, a day I usually avoided, having no family to share it with, but this year, the holiday intensified the pervasive loneliness.

Scanning the room, I searched for the concealed cameras. "Please." Tears welled in my eyes. Begging wasn't something Idid, especially for someone, yet Ember's visit and the holiday had left me drained and isolated. "Please, Walsh."

The repetition of my plea echoed in the empty room, reinforcing the profound exhaustion and desolation I felt. I was so close to desperately ransacking the house to find any booze to wash away these feelings wreaking havoc on my body.

For once in my life, I wanted to just feel what was flooding into me. I wanted him to see me and know that I was desperate for…something. Yet, I wasn't entirely sure what I sought, but I knew I needed him. He was supposed to be here, and the absence of his presence left me grappling with the why, where, and what he was doing.

"Please." The word hung in the air, a desperate cry that transported me back to the feeling of being a forgotten child. Abandoned and alone.

Chapter Thirty

"Fuck," I cried, watching her break down. I’d seen her cry so many times over the years alone in her room. The conversation with my sister had me feeling that stupid tug on my heart, making me realize I was fucking done with whatever act I was doing.

I called up Enzo who was still back in Dansport with Madison.

"I need you to call the Irish. Cancel the meeting."

"But it's in two days?" he said.

"Fuck the consequences," I hissed through the phone. I didn’t care what they did. I needed to get home.

Rationally, I knew I needed to stay here to have this meeting in two days, then everything would be okay. If I dared to leave, everything would fall apart at my helm. It would fall on my shoulders for fucking up. Even the hesitation in Enzo’s voice was evident.

"I don’t care."

There was a long silence on the other end as I twisted around to look out at the city. I was here because I was running away from my feelings, but over the last twenty-four hours, all of that had changed. With Madison, everything was fucking different.

"What if I get you a flight home tonight, then fly you back there early on the day of the meeting?" Enzo questioned. I stopped pacing my oversized suite.

"Are you trying to tell me what I can and can’t do with…" I was grasping so tightly onto the glass that if it wasn’t double-paned, it probably would have shattered. "My. Fucking. Wife."

"No, sir. I just want to be sure you understand the consequences if you don’t show up to the meeting. If you don’t show, they are going to be offended twice, which just isn't a good?—"

"Shut the fuck up," I demanded, turning to face the modern suite. The cream-colored comforter on the bed was crumpled at its center, and clothes were scattered around the room. Despite my obsessive nature, which usually kept things meticulously arranged when setting up cameras and surveillance, my personal space had an air of disarray. The meticulousness that accompanied my professional pursuits didn't quite extend to my personal life, leaving it somewhat thrown together.

I rubbed my jaw, feeling the stubble of my beard against my fingers, a reminder that I hadn’t shaved since arriving here.

"Sorry, sir," Enzo muttered.

"I will spend whatever time I find plausible with my wife. The Irish can fucking wait, because honestly, none of this involves them." I shook away the hair that had fallen in my face.

"Truthfully, we do not need them. We do not need their businesses to launder our money. We do not need their dirty arms dealers who are always getting caught by the feds, anyway. We do not fucking need their men."

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