All of the Lights (48 page)

So it doesn't matter. What I saw, what I felt, what I
know,
none of it matters. I've never felt so powerless in my entire life.

"I wish you'd just told me that," I grouse. "Would've saved us all a hell of a lot of time."

Jack's face twists with remorse and for a second, I almost think his left hand twitches to reach for me. "I'm sorry, Rae. I should've thought this through more before I let you come to the club tonight."

"There are lot of things we should've thought through before we did them," I practically snarl at him.

He flinches from the impact and swallows hard. Oh, so now he feels uncomfortable about the way he's treated me. Good for him.

"We need to focus on what we have," Jack's voice fills the room again, setting aside my not-so-subtle accusation for the time being, and this time, he's got the floor. We all know we need a plan and it looks like he has one. "We know Moretti's been buying up property with his Rossi alias and using the city council to make it happen. We know Nero Gianotti is the one who attacked Rae. We know the Gianottis and Moretti are working together to open up this boxing arena. We know they're offering to give me the deed to that property if I win. What we don't know is why the Gianottis would want to attack Rae in the first place or how much Moretti knows about it. The only way to buy ourselves some time to figure that out is if I take this fight and get the evidence we need."

"That sounds a little like you're changing your tune, bro," Brennan narrows his eyes at Jack and leans forward to study him. "Before it sounded like you wanted to take the fight just so you could nail Moretti to the floor."

"I know, I know," Jack scrubs a hand over his short, dark hair and affords me one passing glance before blowing out an agonized breath. "I feel like I'm flying by the seat of my pants right now trying to come up with something, but all I keep thinking is that if I can get that deed, what would happen if we go to Moretti with what we know? What if we tell him we want Sean out of prison or else we'll leak every single piece of dirty, bloody evidence we have against him?"

Brennan is not amused, but he remains impassive in the kitchen. "Blackmail?"

"Something like that, yeah," Jack nods.

"That's a good way to get yourself killed, douchehole."

Jack rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, but I don't see what's so funny about this. He's talking about just strolling up to the mayor with guns blazing, actually telling him everything we know and expecting...what? That he'll actually comply? That he wouldn't hesitate to eliminate the threat as soon as it presents itself? This isn't funny. This is suicide.

"You're not doing that," I shake my head firmly. "Nobody's doing that. There's got to be another way."

"What's the other option, Rae?" Jack holds his ground, staring both of us down like we've got him cornered in the ring. "What's the plan? 'Cause I don't see either of you comin' up with something better."

I hold my hands out in front of him as I dare a step closer. "Calm down, okay? We'll figure this out and it doesn't have to be tonight."

"We don't have a ton of time either," Brennan retorts from the opposite side of Jack.

Shaking off his incisive, bitter tone, I choose instead to focus on the matter at hand. "Maybe Jack was right before. Maybe we need him to take this fight to buy us some more time until we can figure out what to do with all the information we have."

I can't believe I'm actually letting myself agree to this, but it's really the lesser of the two evils as far as Jack's safety is concerned. He's much more likely to come out the victor going head to head with a fighter than with the mayor. At least in the ring, he has a better chance of coming out unscathed. With the mayor, all bets are off.

"This is some wicked crazy bullshit," Brennan mutters and shakes his head. "You know what? I'm done with this tonight. I'm gonna go home to my wife."

He doesn't waste any time and the door slams on his way out before I even have a chance to catch my breath. Now it's just me, Jack, and Bennett standing in the middle of this kitchen, heavy with the weight of everything we can't say. I want to ask him why he's ignored me, but I won't do it with Bennett in the room. I won't act like some clingy ex-girlfriend who just can't take a hint.

Still, when Jack puts a hand gently on my lower back to help guide me to Bennett's car outside, I hate the way my heart leaps for joy. I hate the way my heart wants him. I hate the way my heart needs him. I hate the way I've reduced myself to a whiny would-be heroine out of some outdated romance novel. I hate the way I've all but taken myself out of the narrative by letting the men in my life define me.

I'm not that girl.

Even if I used to be, I'm not anymore.

"I'm sorry, Rae," Jack murmurs softly as he opens the passenger side door for me.

"For what?"

This is the moment. He can choose to own it or he can choose to hide.

"I'm sorry I..." he trails off, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. After casting a quick glance over his shoulder to find Bennett giving us a wide girth of privacy, he finally turns his attention back to me. "I'm sorry things went too far the other night. I didn't mean to take advantage. That's not what that was about."

"You didn't take advantage," I point out carefully, my eyes narrowed.

He swallows hard again and unearths a hand from his pocket to scratch his chin. "I, uh, think we should just chalk that up to a rough day, okay? That's all it was. That's all it can ever be."

"Why?" I shoot back.

His lips twist in a rueful smile. "You know why."

It's not like I expected anything less, but the truth of it stings. Scalds. Wounds me deeper than I anticipated. Yet another rejection, another disappointment, but this time, it feels like something's opened up and sliced right through me with a white-hot knife. Heartbreak. That's what this. Cold, searing heartbreak.

You're in love with him,
that nasty little voice whispers.
And he might as well have just slapped you in the face.

The truth...finally. And it hurts so much I think it just might suffocate me. I don't know when it happened. I'm not even sure why—I just know I feel it. I just know this love that I feel, this ache that I can't set aside...it's smashed my heart into tatters.

Instead of meeting the pain head-on, I push it aside and choose to meet his gaze instead. I choose to stand up for myself instead.

"So it doesn't matter what I want?"

His eyebrows lift in surprise and he rubs a hand over his mouth. "And what is it that you want?"

You
, I want to scream.
I just want you, you goddamn idiot.

But the fact that he even has to ask tells me everything I need to know.

"I wish things could be different, Rae," he murmurs hoarsely and his stormy eyes glimmer with regret and true remorse. "I really do."

"It doesn't have to be this way," I shake my head. At this point, there isn't much left to say so I open the passenger door and slide in. "And just so we're clear: I'm done being a doormat, Jack. Done being an afterthought. See you later."

And with that, I slam the car door, doing my part to put up the wall between us. It's not like it took all that much to begin with.

Jack

The rag moves up and down the bar, back and forth, side to side, until I swing it all the way down to start it all over again. Given that it's 9:00 on a Thursday night, it's not like I have too many patrons to worry about and the motions of moving the rag around helps my nerves a little. It's not quite enough to dissipate the whirlwind of thoughts working their way through my mind, but it's better than nothing.

I've got two days until Sunday. Two days to get my shit together. Two days to figure out what the hell I'm going to do about Sean, the Gianottis, Moretti, and Rae.

My eyes squeeze shut just from thinking her name. There are so many things I wish I'd done differently—starting with every moment we spent on my couch and everything that followed. I don't know how it happened because it shouldn't have. Any control I had just vanished into thin air the second her warm lips pressed into mine.

Never should've happened. Never should've let it go that far.

At this point, I'm lucky Brennan rang my doorbell when he did.

His judgment isn't even the worst part of all this. It's the fact that if things had gone differently, Rae and I could've easily been raised in the same household as brother and sister. It's the fact that, ultimately, Sean is in prison because Rae lied. I don't care what excuses Sean's thrown her way—the end result is still the same. It's the fact that my dad loved her mom and somehow, everything went horribly wrong for them. It's the fact that now, because of that, we're still paying for their mistakes. There's just too much history there, both in and out of our control.

The sins of our parents have followed us for too long and I just don't know how to shake them. Everything I want, I can't have.

Maybe I want her because I can't have her. There's something to be said for the adrenaline rush of doing something you know you have no business doing. It's a sickness, festering down every nerve ending and finally filling all the places you know you should leave well enough alone. Maybe I'm wrong, though, too.

I don't want to feel this way. I don't want to want her this way. Walking away when all this is said and done would be the best thing for both of us, even if it means walking away from the only woman I've ever wanted to know.

What I feel for her...it's a little like acid reflux. My chest burns, my throat closes, and I'm uncomfortable as shit and sometimes, I feel like I just want to puke because I've never felt this before. All I can think about is how soft the skin right underneath her earlobe would feel to kiss, what she would look like asleep in my bed, what I would have to do, what I'd be willing to give up just for the chance to really have her.

We started this mess hating the very air the other breathed and now...now I was sitting here, trying to convince myself to forget her. If given the chance and if I threw all caution to the wind, I think I'd ride into hell and back for her.

That, ultimately, is why I need to back off before either of us gets in too deep and definitely while Sean is still trapped in prison. Letting myself fall down the rabbit hole with Rae would only complicate an already convoluted mess of feelings and misunderstandings.

"I'm done being a doormat. Done being an afterthought."

The rag drops onto the bar top and my head falls into my hands. I've got plenty of other issues to sit here and brood about. Plenty of things that could go wrong on Sunday that I need to prepare myself for. But God...the disappointment in her voice, the determination and pain in her eyes. If I could punch myself in the face for making her feel that way, I would.
Nobody
should make her feel that way.

I don't know what this feeling is. Don't know what to call it. All I know is that if she walked through the door right now, I just might get on my hands and knees and beg her to forgive me, to give me another chance to prove she's not a doormat. She's not an afterthought. Not to me.

That scares the shit out of me.

It's that moment the front door of Na Soilse opens and in walks my dad and Father Lindsay. The solemn, grim expressions on both their faces tell me everything I need to know: I'm about to be on the receiving end of an intervention.

Great. Just great.

My dad nods to me from across the bar and I know things can only go down from here. Father Lindsay, ever the loyal servant, follows my dad's lead and they don't stop until they've angled themselves right in front of me. Whether it's divine intervention or plain old bad luck, the small group of patrons I had lingering toward the back promptly get up and leave. Of course, it probably has more to do with the sober faces staring back at me than anything else.

"We need to talk, Jack," my dad's gruff voice calls out to me as he leans his elbows on the bar.

"I already know what you're going to say," I just shrug and slap the wet rag over my shoulder. "What's the point in wasting everybody's time?"

Father Lindsay shakes his head. "It's not a waste of time. Your da and I have some things that need to be said."

My dad's trusted confidante and the keeper of all his shameful secrets...he can't exactly say he's unbiased here. Of course he's going to be on my dad's side in all of this, regardless of history. Of course he's going to feel like it's his righteous duty to try to talk me out of this fight on Sunday.

"Alright. Fine. Say what you gotta say and then let me get back to work."

My dad scrubs both hands over his face, his shoulders sagging, heavy with the weight of everything that's about to go down here. I guess, if I were him, and I had to have this kind of conversation with my son—heaven forbid—I'd probably feel pretty damn grim about the whole mess too.

"Alright," I wave a hand around in the air to get this convoluted party started. "Have it."

The two exchange side-eyed glances and then my dad's light blue eyes flicker up to meet mine. They're the same light blue eyes I see reflected in his biological sons and thankfully, by some miracle, not his daughter. The same daughter he's never admitted to actually fathering. My hands clench around the bar's edge until my knuckles turn white.