Page 52 of The Celtic Resolution
“Yes,” he says, sniffing deeply to control himself. “You are. And when you are up and about, fully recovered… I think it is time I brought you in on a few things.”
“What things?”
“Important things, son. You’ll see. But later, I promise. For now, you have to focus on getting better. Just… trust me. Everything I do, everything I’ve ever done is for this family. And you’ll see that. Soon.”
I feel like I’m floating and a smile slips onto my face that I can’t hide.
This is it. This is finally it.
My father is reaching out to me and I am so ready.
Recovery isswift since none of the bullets pierced anything important. My doctor warned me to be careful with strenuous activity but assured me that if I followed my treatment plan then I would make a full recovery. A week later, I was back in the driver’s seat, delivering whatever my father needed to wherever he wanted it. While my previous routes involved collecting from airports, my new ones involve traveling from a clutter of inner city warehouses and carting containers all the way down to the docks and vice versa. Domenico tells me it’s the last of the guns from the Irish and drug shipments we’re sending overseas into an untapped European market. It makes sense since Matteo is currently busy in Italy so I do what he asks while wondering if this is the work he’s going to bring me in on.
Working keeps me busy and recovery is fast and easy, but Saoirse is never far from my thoughts. I catch wind of minor conflicts breaking out on the borders of Italian and Irish territory, and I hear tales of people getting the powerful end of her fist when they cross the line but no one else ends up with a bullet in them. Just me. It makes it seem like a targeted attack, and while my memory of that night remains fuzzy, my gut tells me otherwise.
She was angry. Hurting. If she shot me intentionally, then I know she didn’t want to kill me. I was being a complete and utter dick to her, too caught up in my own desperate need to apologizewithout considering what she wanted from that situation. From me.
It’s water under the bridge now, as much as I hate that conclusion.
Saoirse and I are over.
My feelings for her, while remaining as strong as they ever were, turn into a source of pain as I know I will never see her again. I ruined what we had. The only decent thing in my fucked up life. The silver lining is dinner at night with Mary and my father, and sleeping under the Manor roof like I belong there.
It’s what I wanted. It’s what I was owed and yet when I’m alone at night with only my conscience for company, I feel nothing but guilt.
“Bruno?” Mary’s voice drags me out of my thoughts just in time for me to brake at a red light.
“I’m here, sorry. Distracted.”
“While driving?” She screeches and I hear fabric shuffling on the other end of the phone call. “Be careful!”
“I am. I was distractedbydriving.” A harmless white lie. “So I’m fine. What were you saying?”
“I wasaskingif you’d heard from Dad because he hasn’t come home.”
I check the clock. Three in the morning. “You sure?”
“Mmhmm. I waited up but nothing.”
“You tried calling?”
“Yup. Nothing.”
“Maybe he’s busy.”
“He’s always busy,” she grumbles while I resume driving. “I thought you two working together would mean the workload would soften and I’d get to see you both more.”
“Maybe soon. Honestly I don’t think he fully trusts me yet so I’m just trying to keep my nose clean and show him I’m reliable.”
“I overheard what he said to you in the hospital.” Her voice grows quiet. “About Mom.”
“Hm.”
“Do you hate him for that?”
The question catches me off guard as I pull into the docks parking lot. “Why would I hate him?”
“I dunno,” she sighs. “You spent so long trying to get his attention but don’t you hate him for withholding it in the first place? I know I would.”
