Page 111 of Beneath Your Beautiful
“Chicks dig it. But it’s itchy as hell,” he complained.
Ava and I laughed. Typical Sawyer. Killian leaned across the pew and pulled Sawyer into a guy hug as the bagpipes played “Amazing Grace.” Was there ever a sadder sound than bagpipes?
Ava and I exchanged a look. Her eyes filled with tears, but I knew they weren’t for Seamus. She shook her head a little and exhaled, trying to pull herself together. I didn’t know what was going on with her and Connor, but this week hadn’t been the right time to ask. My gaze drifted to Connor. Back straight, shoulders squared, head bowed.
Killian squeezed my hand, and I turned my attention to him as the priest began the funeral Mass. Killian stared straight ahead. I wondered what was going through his head, how he felt about his father’s death. Conflicted, I guess. Despite Killian’s abusive childhood, at the hands of his father, Killian had called Seamus for help and he came because his sons needed him. As I studied the painting of the Virgin Mary surrounded by cherubs behind the altar, I entertained the notion that their mom would come to the funeral. It would be like something out of a movie. She’d cry and ask their forgiveness. She’d beg to be a part of their lives and she’d find a way to make up for all the hurt and pain she’d caused.
But that didn’t happen.
The funeral seemed to go on forever, and now, Seamus was in the ground and we’d all gathered at his house. Connor and Ava left directly after the burial which left Killian playing host to our friends and what appeared to be the entire NYPD. I was standing in the wood-paneled kitchen on the same green linoleum floor Killian had scrubbed with Pine-Sol the day his mom left. The kitchen table and counters buckled under the weight of hams and casseroles. It reminded me of my mom’s funeral. Why did people always bring ham?
Friends surrounded me—Zeke, Hailey, Louis, his girlfriend Carmen who I’d met a couple times, Brody, Chris. Garrett had left a little while ago to take Sawyer to the airport. Thankfully, my dad was bonding with some of New York’s finest which made my life easier. My dad had attached himself to me like Velcro. Every time I made a sound during the night, even in my sleep, he was on the other side of my bedroom door, asking if I needed anything.
“Stop being a helicopter parent,” I’d complained. This wasn’t like my dad but, then, I guess this situation wasn’t entirely normal.
Louis hugged me. “We’re out of here, beautiful.”
“I’ll be back at work soon.”
He gave me a skeptical look.
“I will.”
Louis held up his hands. “Take it up with Killian and your dad.”
Killian and my dad? I’d certainly be taking it up with them. Chris, Brody, and Zeke took turns hugging me goodbye because they had jobs to get to. As did Hailey who pulled me into an extra-long hug.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Hailey released me, her gaze lingering on my forehead.
“Do I need to touch up my makeup?” I’d covered the bruises on my cheekbone and forehead with foundation and thought I did a pretty good job of it. On the day I left the hospital, my forehead was swollen to the size of a baseball, but the swelling had gone down and now it was an ugly greenish yellow. Like Connor’s entire face.
“You look fine,” Hailey said, giving me a little smile. Then she was laughing.
“Well, that’s not very convincing.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking there’s never a dull moment with you.”
I sighed. “I’m a trouble magnet.”
After my friends left, I looked around for Killian, searching the living room and the backyard, but I didn’t see him anywhere. I climbed the stairs to the second floor, feeling like I was trespassing, and passed two closed doors before I came to one slightly ajar. I peeked my head inside and saw Killian sitting on the mossy green carpet, his back leaning against a double bed, cradling his head in his hands. In that moment, I saw Killian, the boy. My heart hurt for him. And it hurt for me too. I was losing him. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. I knew it yesterday when he hadn’t returned my calls. I knew it last week when he’d said goodbye to me at the hospital and I’d climbed into my dad’s SUV.
A bottle of Jameson and a tumbler of whiskey sat next to him, like they were the only companions he needed.
A whimper escaped my lips. Killian lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine. They were empty. Vacant. He wasn’t even in this room. I stood in the doorway, my gaze sweeping over the bedroom that must have been his when he was growing up. Neat and tidy. No photos on the dresser, no posters on the walls, nothing that gave me a clue as to who he’d been or what he’d liked when he was a kid. A cross hung above his bed and I wondered if he’d put it there or if Seamus had. I erased the distance between us and lowered myself onto the floor next to him, crossing my ankles and smoothing my hands over the skirt of my black dress. It was sleeveless and probably too short for a funeral, especially with my four-inch heels, but Ava had gone out and bought it for me because my dad had kept me locked in an ivory tower.
“Don’t leave me,” I whispered. I’d said it so many times at the hospital, and he’d always replied the same way. “I’m not going anywhere.”
This time, he said nothing. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, lifted the glass of whiskey to his lips, and drank.
* * *
Later that night, my dad, Killian, and I gathered in my living room. A few days ago, Killian, brought over a leather chair from the bar so my dad had somewhere to sit and read his newspaper while he guarded me all week. I loved my dad, but I was ready for him to get back to his regularly-scheduled life and let me do the same.
My dad was sitting on the chair, and Killian and I were on the sofa across from him. I had a bad feeling I did not want to hear what my dad was about to say. He had that look on his face he used to get whenever I was in trouble and we needed to have “a talk.” And to make matters worse, Killian was on the opposite end of the couch, with a cushion separating us. There might as well have been an ocean between us.
“I’m not going back to Pennsylvania,” I said, before he could speak. “It’s not happening. I’m staying here with Killian and we’re going to…I don’t know…get back to our lives and…”
“Eden. I’m your father and that gives me the right—”
