Let Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 2) (5 page)

“Ev. What are you doing?” Teo says, charging forward.

We place the food on the counter, but my attention stays on Teo, knowing something’s up.

Both kids leap into his arms the minute he reaches for them. Lynnie’s giddy, and kicking out her legs as if she wasn’t just with him. Mattie clutches his neck like he’s been gone forever.

“Babe,” Evie protests. “They always want you. Give me a moment to have some Mommy time.”

“You can have Mommy time on the floor. They’re too heavy for you now that―” The way he cuts himself off causes an immediate silence.

“Now that what?” Kill asks, grinning.

Teo smirks at Evie’s blush, his big muscles bulging as he hangs tight to his kids. “Evie’s pregnant again.”

The kitchen erupts in cheers, and while I join them in the congratulations, my attention doesn’t stay on Teo and Evie. It trails to Sol who’s standing in place with two giant bottles of soda in her arms. The way she doesn’t appear shocked by the baby news, I figured she’d heard earlier. But even though she’s smiling in Teo and Evie’s direction, her focus skips to me and stays there.

Cool.

She walks forward. I take a step back, way back, hoping she’ll follow. And she does, the hem of her thick white sweater skimming along her curves and brushing against the waist of her dark jeans. Damn, this woman’s fine.

“What are you doing here?” she asks when she reaches me, her bubbly voice soft compared to the loud chatter behind her.

I heard Teo and Evie were having a party. I got myself invited hoping you’d be here because I think you’re fucking beautiful and I like your smile
. That’s the whole truth, but I don’t share all of it. “I was hoping to see you, again,” I admit.

Sol was that one woman I managed to charm, but never had that chance to kiss. Call her a challenge, or call her something else. Either way, considering how her plump lips draw my focus, I still want that kiss.

She laughs, strands of her hair that escaped her ponytail skimming over her cheeks. But it’s not the blond highlights that make her eyes sparkle, it’s her. All her.

“Finn, this isn’t a good idea,” she begins.

“Why not? There’s food and everything.”

She averts her gaze to the side, trying to hide her smile, but doing a shitty job. “You know what I mean,” she says.

“You think I’m hitting on you―that I’m looking to hook up or cash in on that kiss that you still owe me?”

Her face jerks back to face me. “You’re not?”

“Of course I am. I’m just letting you know you’re right.”

She tosses her head back laughing, exposing a lovely neck I wouldn’t mind nibbling on. She knocks me playfully in the shoulder. “Come on, help me carry some of these things downstairs.”

My eyes hone in on her ass as she walks ahead of me and toward a closed door. “Is that a no to the kiss?”

She pauses in the middle of picking up the bottles of soda she set down on the marble counter, glancing at me in that sad way of hers. “Trust me when I say there are plenty of other women who’d like all these kisses you’re offering.”

“That’s true,” I agree, lifting the bottles from her hand and making her giggle.

Kill glances at me as she lifts a tray of food from the counter. The way he eyes me tells he’s figured out why I wanted to tag along. I’m not sure how he feels about that, seeing how Sol and his wife are cousins. But I can probably guess he’s not too excited.

My family thinks I’m a ticking time bomb. As much as I know they’re right, and as much as I want to spare them when I blow― it pisses me off that this is what I’ve become. Despite the hard muscles and fighting skills I possess, there are times I feel so God damn
weak
―times where I lay in bed hoping the next breath I take won’t come.

Do I want to kill myself? Sometimes. But given I was raised strict Catholic―despite the fact I’m one shitty Catholic―the belief I’ll burn in hell for eternity is ingrained in me, halting me in place before I take that next step―onto that path where I actually think about how and when. Maybe that’s a good thing. But there are those moments where I wish I could just die―in a car wreck, a freak incident, even in a fight. Not a fight in the octagon, more like a fight in a bar. Me against some guy packing―who loses what remains of his shit and pulls the trigger.

Does it sound crazy? It does. But it spares me from being the one whose hand is on the gun, and maybe gives me a chance to find the peace I need and crave.

Life . . . is too damn sad sometimes, too exhausting, too
hard
.

“This smells so good,” Sol says, her high-heeled boots forcing her to take the wood steps slow.

“They’re stuffed peppers, I think,” I say, trying to put my head back in the moment so my words don’t sound so distant. “Sofia made a lot of food.”

Sol bounces across the finished basement. “I’m not surprised. She’s so Latina that way, wanting to feed everyone and make sure no one goes hungry.”

The more she speaks, the more she pulls me back to the moment, reminding me that I came here to see her, not wallow in all my crazy.

I glance around the large open area, admiring everything from the dark wood floors to the perfectly stained beams across the ceiling. My brothers helped Teo build and design this whole place. I came in to help with cabinets way back when they first started, but back then it was a work in progress and looked nothing like this.

A bar with a built in sink takes up the entire back wall, a door leading to a spare bedroom with a full bath set just behind it. On the opposite side is a media room―full screen and step up seating like you’d find in theatre―only with full reclining leather seats.

“Talk about the ultimate man cave,” I mumble, taking in the pool table, dart board, and pinball machine complete with flashing lights to my right.

“No kidding.” She sets the tray over a wire stand and starts the flame beneath, then fusses with the food already placed along the long table.

I want to edge closer to those sweet curves, but I force myself forward and across the room to the bar area. I place the bottles of soda in the stainless steel refrigerator, ignoring the tall longnecks calling my name.

Man, I could go for a beer, yet I resist―not because I wouldn’t mind a good buzz. Hell, I look forward to that buzz― but because I feel Sol watching me. And because I know she’s watching, I stretch as I straighten, flexing my muscles.

I mostly do it for a laugh since she probably can’t see much through my long-sleeved T-shirt. So when I turn to flash her a cocky grin―to let her know I’m well aware she’s checking me out―that grin widens at the sight of her slacking jaw.

“Full of yourself much?” she asks, averting her gaze. She plays with her hair like she’s trying to fix her ponytail, but all it does is cause the band holding it in place to snap. Her hair falls around her thin shoulders in wild messy clumps, making her already pretty face turn all kinds of sexy. 

“Nah, just seeing if you’ll notice.” I march across the room for a better look, chuckling when I see her rushing to tame it. “Nice,” I say, hooking a strand around my finger and giving it a playful tug.

She sidesteps away from me, becoming more flustered. “Am I making you nervous?” I ask, my deep voice lowering.

“No,” she says, her tone a little higher. “I’m not, you know, easily intimidated or anything.”

I step in front of her and cross my arms. “Good to know,” I rumble.

She bites down on her bottom lip. If she’s trying to halt that bashful grin she doesn’t quite manage. But then she makes like it’s not there, motioning to the rear deck. “It’s hot in here,” she says.

“Yeah, it is,” I say, inching just a little closer.

Her demeanor relaxes when she sighs. I think I’ve annoyed her, but then she nudges me affectionately in the arm. “You know what I mean.” She motions to the outside patio. “I need some air. If Evie needs me for anything, will you tell her I’m out there?”

She doesn’t wait for me to answer, reaching for a coat folded over a bar stool and hurrying outside. Something is off with her. Just like it was at the diner. Yeah, I got her to smile and laugh a little. But the sadness―the one I’m not used to seeing is still there.

I watch her as she closes the door behind her. She expects me to stay inside, and maybe I should and give her space. A couple of my brothers are here with their women, my sister, too, and whatever idiot she decided to bring. But for all my family is tight, today the only person I want to hang with is Sol.

I give her some time, just enough to be social with the other guests. But when everyone heads downstairs to get some food, I find my coat and snag a plate to fill.

She laughs when I plop down in front of the outside fireplace beside her. “Nice set up,” I say, leaning back against the couch and offering a plate topped with appetizers.

“Thank you,” she says, reaching for what looks like a Cuban pastry.

She smiles before taking a bite. But like my grins, it seems forced. We share the appetizers. Neither of us say much, and at first I don’t mind. It’s nice out here, quiet and peaceful, a stretch of lawn packed with snow extending out to the trees lining the back. But as the sun sets in the horizon, and the only light that remains is from the fire, the silence becomes too much, especially with how distant Sol seems.

“I didn’t see your folks. Are they coming later?” I ask.

The way her shoulders tense, I know I hit a nerve I maybe should have avoided. “They’re not coming,” she says, her voice tightening. “They’re not available.”

“Sorry,” I say.

“Thank you,” she says, swallowing hard.

The way she looks at me―
damn
―it’s like I can feel her misery pooling in light eyes. I’m no genius. But I don’t need to be one to guess her mother’s probably not doing well again. Anyone living anywhere close to Fish town has heard of her mom. Whatever happened must have been pretty shitty. So I don’t push it. Instead I lean back, pretending like it doesn’t matter because in a way it doesn’t. It doesn’t change my opinion of Sol, if anything, all it does is make me want to lift her mood.

I watch as she turns back to her food, appearing to force the last bite down. I pop the last mini quiche in my mouth, taking my time to finish it. But when she wipes her mouth, I think maybe it’s time to make her feel better. Most guys, would probably ask her about her internship to distract her or talk about something general like movies or some shit. But most guys aren’t me.

“So,” I say “Kick anyone in the balls lately?”

She lowers her napkin away from her mouth, turning slowly toward me. Ah, there’s that smile I like.

“Of all the things you could’ve brought up,” she says.

I toss the empty plate on the table. “It’s a compliment. That was one mighty fine kick.”

Sol and I always knew of each other, but ran with different crowds. From time to time, I’d run into her at a party. But either she had a date, or I had some girl on my arm― the exception being one night a few years back.

Me and my crew had landed at a party she and her friends were at. Some idiots were giving her shit about her mom, calling her crazy and telling her she’d end up the same way. I stepped in―not just because I kind of knew her―but because here were these assholes picking on someone weaker than them.

“I thought you were this poor a defenseless woman,” I confess. “Nothing like watching a dude collapse, clutching tight to his nuts prove me wrong.”

She clutches her belly, laughing, but by now I’m laughing to. Except the more we look at each other, the more our humor fades and something shifts between us.

“I never thanked you for helping me that night,” she says, her voice gentle and so low I barely hear it.

“It’s not too late,” I offer, holding out my hands.

“I’m
serious
,” she says.

“I am, too,” I admit.

Her smile lights up the dimness, even though by now I’m walking that fine line between arrogant and endearing. “You barely knew me,” she says. “But you still took on what? Three guys to protect me?”

“More like three pussies,” I tell her, unable to pry my attention off her face. I’d stepped in to lead her away and keep her safe. But not before I told those dickheads to fuck off. The guys didn’t know I was a fighter. They only knew my friends weren’t close and that I was wrecked. One of the bigger ones started shit and tried to grab Sol. Wrecked or not, I made them pay.

“I didn’t like them messing with you,” I say, my voice hinting at growl the more I remember.

“I know,” she says. “It was really gallant of you.”

“Gallant?” I ask. “That’s a word you don’t hear every day.”

“Think of it as another handy adjective you can add to your repertoire.” She winks. “It will impress the ladies.”

I’m being a cocky prick, in my speech and tone. But I do mean what I say. “What if you’re the one I’m trying to impress?” I ask.

Her expression softens. “You already have,” she answers quietly.

“Oh, yeah? When?”

I expect her to tell me something related to fighting, seeing my rep and accomplishments in MMA are the only thing people really admire me for. But that’s not what she says.

She leans back against the couch, watching me carefully. “That night you helped me. You were brave and kind and exactly who I needed.”

I don’t move. Her words―the way she means them―shit. Just like that she holds me in place. It’s like every muscle in my face tenses. I’m not sure what I look like then. Stunned maybe? Whatever I give away―or maybe don’t―causes her to shift her attention toward the fireplace.

Like me, she’s probably remembering that night, how I walked her and her friends out to their car afterward, and how I reached for her and tried to kiss her.

I edge closer, enough so my leg touches hers. “You told me I was ‘cute’, remember? But you wouldn’t let me kiss you. Said you would when I was sober.”

She meets my face. The way the flames dance across her delicate features and cast light against her hair cause my chest to tighten. Fuck. What the hell is she doing to me?

“You were drunk,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”