One Million Dollars.

I stare at the check in my hand. Two commas. Six zeros. My name typed neatly into the space that says Pay to the Order of.

I grew up poor in small town Ohio. My parents never had much but worked hard to provide for my sister and me as best they could. They made sacrifices so that we never went without. Even though I never knew what it was like to need, I grew up wanting.

Wanting more. Wanting better.

But I never believed I deserved it. That I had what it took to earn it on my own. That was the allure guys like Trevor and James held for me. They exuded more. It practically seeped from their pores, and I lapped up their left-overs like a starving dog, hungry for every scrap they tossed my way. Because if guys like that wanted me, that made me worth something.

It made me more too.

I’ve never felt like I was enough.

Me. The person I am.

That’s why I did it. Why I flaunted myself in front of Patrick. Why I pushed him. Played games instead of being honest with him about how I feel. Because my body is the only part of me, that’s worth something.

Sitting here with a million dollars in my hand, I realize something.

Having money doesn’t change that.

I let it go, and it flutters into my lap. My head jerks up like I’m surfacing. Like I’m drowning. Coming up for air. Tess and Con are playing pool—she reaches over and snaps his suspenders while he’s bent over, lining up a shot. He drops his cue and chases her around the table, both shouting and laughing. Declan sits in the same booth as I am, legs kicked up on the bench seat opposite of where I’m sitting. Half-empty bottle of Jameson at his elbow, Tess’s cat curled up on his chest, purring like he’s her long-lost lover. He’s watching his brother chase and tease Tess with a look of longing, so sharp it cuts me to the quick.

“You really headbutt that fucker in the nose?”

I look across the table at Declan and try to remember a time he’s ever addressed me directly. I can’t. “I did.” I grin at him. “It was pretty awesome.”

Without looking at me, Declan laughs. “Congratulations, you’re officially a Gilroy.”

I don’t know how to take that, so I just stay quiet.

“She was right, you know? Tess—” He lifts his glass and takes a drink. “we should’ve told you sooner.”

For a second, I’m confused, but then it comes to me. The five of us standing in the office, Tess upset, shouting—her gaze bouncing from brother to cousin.

Tell her... Somebody tell her.

“You’re family,” Declan says, draining his glass, his gaze hooded and fixed on the scene in front of him while his free hand strokes the cat on his chest like his life depends on it. Maybe it does.

“Being family isn’t the same as belonging,” I say quietly because if anyone understands, it’s him.

Declan’s mouth quirks, flashing a dimple I never knew he had. “No, it isn’t.” He pours himself another drink, emptying the bottle into his glass. “How’s your neck?”

I lift my fingers to graze the skin of my throat. It burns. Hurts when I talk. Swollen and bruised. But it could’ve been worse. So much worse. “I’ll live.”

Letting my gaze wander, I find Patrick. He’s behind the bar, washing glasses. Restocking the waitress stations. Checking bottle levels to make sure things are ready for tomorrow. An entirely different Patrick than the one he was only a few hours ago. The Patrick who pulled James off me had been feral. Savage. Slamming his fist into James’s face over and over, jaw clenched. Eyes blank. Just when I thought he’d kill him—beat James to death on our living room floor—Patrick stood, hand fisted in James’s hair. Dragging him across the living room to the open door, he threw James down the stairs like he was a bag of trash.

And then he was there, hovering over me, hands, bloody and shaking, against my neck. “Are you okay? Are you okay—Jesus Christ, please be okay.” He said it over and over, running his hands over me, checking for wounds. His hands on my face. My arms and legs. When he was satisfied that I was okay, he sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor and pulled me into his lap, holding me while I shook like a leaf and bawled like a baby, the adrenaline coursing through my veins with nowhere to go, making me hysterical.

I remember hearing footsteps pounding on the stairs. Tess shouting. Con trying to get Patrick to loosen his grip on me while Declan called 911.

That’s how the police found us. Me, sobbing, while Patrick held me in his arms, stroking my hair, cheek pressed against my temple. Whispering to me that it was over. He was there, and everything was okay.

“Has he always been like that?” I shouldn’t ask. I didn’t mean to, but it slipped out, and now that I’ve said it, I want to know. “So... protective.”

“Protective? That’s a good word for it.” Declan flicks a quick glance at Patrick, his mouth quirking again. “He’s always had a hyperactive sense of justice. He’s always been willing to get dirty if it means doing the right thing. Protecting things that need protecting. People who can’t defend themselves. Help those who need it... you know how long he’s been chasing Mrs. McGintey’s dog down for her?”

I shake my head.

“Since he was thirteen. While the rest of us little shitsticks were throwing eggs at her door, Patrick was helping her.” Declan shakes his head. “You know how old he was when he figured out she was letting that fucking mutt out on purpose?”

I shake my head again.

“Thirteen and a half.” He takes a long drink, draining his glass dry. “Didn’t matter. He chases that dog down, three days out of five because Mrs. McGintey’s husband died fifteen years ago and she’s lonely. She needs someone to care about what happens to her—that’s all that matters to him. If someone hurt her, Patrick would take them apart—no question. Because he loves that crazy, old bat. That’s who he is—he fights for the people he loves.” He sets his glass down and looks at his watch. “I’ve got to go, girl,” he says to the cat curled up on his chest. Lifting her gently, he lets her rub her face against his for a few seconds before he slides out of the booth. “I’ll see you later, Cari.” He says it like he knows it for a fact, flashing me his dimple again before strolling away, cat draped over his shoulder.

For a second, I think he’s going to take Tess’s cat with him, but he doesn’t. With a last nuzzle, Declan drops her on the abandoned pool table and goes home.