Twenty-Nine

Ava

Flynn didn’t say anything for a few moments, he just stared straight ahead at the road beyond the windshield. The silence went on so long, I thought perhaps he hadn’t heard me. But I didn’t want to say those words again, so I just sat there, staring out the window as if the conversation wasn’t even happening.

After going a few more miles down the road, Flynn asked, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did my old man do it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s what I’m hoping to find out.”

I turned to Flynn and watched as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. He flexed his jaw as tightly as his grip on the wheel. It was as if he was letting all of his emotions go through his jaw and hands. He stared straight ahead and said nothing for a long time. The air inside the car was thick and seemed like the atmosphere just before a nasty storm breaks. It was unsettling to say the least.

“Okay, Ava,” he said at last. “I’ll take you to him. You deserve some answers.”

Relief swept through me so powerfully, it caused my hands to shake. I’d finally get to face the man who murdered my dad and ask the questions I’d been dying to ask my entire life. The questions that had haunted me since I was a kid.

“Thank you,” I said. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

He merely nodded and avoided my eyes. I don’t think he was sure what to say. Not that I blamed him. I’d just let the cat out of the bag on something so huge, he couldn’t have seen it coming. Something he’d never given thought to and something that, because he cared so much for me, had to have hit him like a punch in the gut.

“I just need you to know—to be prepared for the possibility—that he might not be able to provide you with the answers you’re seeking,” he said. “He’s been in and out of it for weeks now. He may not even wake up or be lucid when we visit.”

My heart broke as I listened to him. I hadn’t even considered the ideas that Flynn pointed out. All these years—since I was a kid—I’d wanted to confront this man. And now, I finally had my chance, and it would be just my luck that he wouldn’t be awake to talk to me. He probably wouldn’t even recognize me. And hell, he might not even have the faintest idea who my father was. It was so long ago that even if he were awake, he might not recall specifics. Even though I thought the two men had been close, the possibility existed that maybe I’d been wrong. After all, who killed their best friend?

I looked over at Flynn and realized that it had only been a few hours ago that he made the very same choice. Of course, the situation was much different. There was an entirely different context to it all, I was sure. He’d saved me. Had saved my life. My father died for no reason at all, as far as I was aware. Certainly, nothing quite like what had happened earlier.

The reason I thought my father was killed was that he’d talked to the police. Maybe. That wasn’t certain. Though he’d been rumored to be a snitch, there was no proof to back it up. And I’d looked. For years. But after seeing what happened with Flynn and Colin, it made me think that perhaps they were wrong. My father was a loyal man. A good man. And I couldn’t see him turning on his brothers like that.

“I understand,” I said, steeling myself for massive disappointment. “We’ll see what happens, I guess.”

That was the best we could do. I couldn’t go back in time, I had to work with what we had. It was worth a shot. Maybe we’d catch Donal O’Brien on a good day. And maybe he’d be able to give me the answers I’d been seeking for so many years.

Maybe I’d finally have the closure and the peace I’d sought for so long.

Or maybe I wouldn’t.

But I had to try.

***

“This is my father’s private estate,” Flynn said. “He kept it a secret from everyone but immediate family. And because of his fragile state since his health has declined, we felt it was better to keep him hidden away from the public eye. Let him spend his final days in peace, just in case some old enemy came around looking to settle an old score when my old man was too weak to fight back.”

Flynn shot me a look and smiled.

“What?” I asked. “Are you saying I’m an old enemy?”

“Maybe?” he replied. “You’re not planning on killing my dear old da’, are ya?”

The thought had crossed my mind a lot over the years, but I wasn’t that type of person. I wasn’t revengeful. Nor was I a cold-blooded killer. Knowing that Donal O’Brien was near the end of his life was enough. Of course, I didn’t want to let him shuffle off this mortal coil without giving me the goddamn answers I needed.

“Of course not. Do I look like a killer to you?”

“Well—”

I slapped Flynn playfully on the arm. “I was saving your life, asshole,” I said. “Would you have rather that I left him alive?”

Flynn leaned forward and kissed me, silencing my laughter. “Alright, but don’t get your hopes up,” he said. “He’s a dying old man, after all.”

“I know, I know,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll just have to make the best of it.”

I followed Flynn inside the house and did my best to keep from gaping. It was a large estate, much fancier than I’d expected—considering where I grew up—and the home I remembered Donal O’Brien living in many years ago.

“Looks like he did well for himself,” I said, admiring the grand entryway.

“Very well. The syndicate was kind to him,” Flynn said. “And me. Until recently, of course.”

His face darkened as he mentioned the brotherhood. No doubt still stung by what had happened. But as I looked around, I marveled. To think, my father could have lived a life like this, dying of old age in a giant house outside the heart of Chicago. Private, secluded and gated. Flynn nodded at the men at the door—large men who were obviously armed. Looked like he’d meant it when he said his dear old dad was worried about enemies popping up.

“He gets around the clock care here,” Flynn said. “We’ve pretty much set his bedroom up like a hospital room. He had no desire to spend the last months of his life in an assisted care facility. Not that I blame him. I think that’d be miserable.”

I couldn’t blame him either, especially since he obviously had more than enough money to pay for all of this.

We walked past a magnificent grand staircase, the wood carved so beautifully it almost took my breath away. Wall-to-wall marble floors were covered with runners that looked like they just came from the middle east. Beautiful artwork adorned the walls. The home exuded the aroma of money and class. It was gorgeous. And to think this could have been my life.

My heart ached for what could’ve been, but I ached more knowing the blood that was shed that afforded the O’Brien’s to live in such luxury.

My father’s blood.

Flynn spoke, taking me out of my musings. “His room used to be up there,” he said, pointing up the staircase. “But we moved everything down to the main level to make it easier on him. Not that he gets out of bed anymore, but at one time—”

Flynn’s eyes were tearing up and his voice thickened with emotion as he talked about his father. It was hard to reconcile the fact that he was talking about the man who’d killed my father. And yet, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. No one wanted to watch their parents die, no matter what kind of monster they might have been to others. To Flynn, he was his da’ and always would be. And I knew I’d have to be okay with that if I wanted to build a life with this man.

Build a life with him. I shook my head and chuckled to myself at the mere thought of it. I couldn’t believe this was really happening. I was actually thinking about building a life with Flynn. A man I wanted to put behind bars for the rest of his life. Life could be funny sometimes, that was for sure.

Flynn nodded at the nurse as she stepped out of a room, a mild expression of surprise on her face. But she nodded and smiled softly at him.

“Flynn, it’s nice to see you. We weren’t expecting you this evening,” she said, smiling but giving me a strange look, as if she was trying to figure out who I was without being impolite.

“I know, Sheila,” he said softly. “But something has come up, and I may be leaving town for a little while. I just wanted to say goodbye to my da’. Just in case I’m not able to get back to him before—”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” she said. “Your father was awake a moment ago, but I gave him his meds for the night, so he might fall asleep on you. But it might please you to know that he was lucid this evening.”

“That’s fine,” Flynn said. “I just want a chance to say goodbye, that’s all.”

I gripped Flynn’s hand tightly. The original reason we were there was for me. But now I realized how important it was for Flynn to see his father as well. I could hear him choking up while talking to the nurse. I wondered what it would be like when he was face to face with him. As the nurse stepped away, Flynn stood there, staring at the door, unmoving. It was as if he was only just realizing the finality of stepping through the door.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him, stroking his back gently.

“I haven’t visited in months,” he said. “I was always so busy. But in truth, I guess I just didn’t want to see him this way. But now—”

Did I really want to intrude on such a special moment for the man I loved? By going inside and talking to Donal O’Brien, I might get the answers I needed, but I might also ruin the last memory Flynn had of his own dad. I was torn and that lance of guilt was driving deep into my heart once more.

“Would you like to go in alone?” My voice was low, as I couldn’t trust myself to say the words. I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do. But deep down, it killed me to say it only because it was a moment I’d longed for since I was a child.

“No,” Flynn said, to my relief. “I can’t. I need you there by my side or I’ll never walk through that door.”

Flynn sighed, slowly reaching for the door knob, and every muscle in my body tensed up as I watched him. I anticipated the door swinging inward. This was the moment I’d waited my entire life for. The conversation I wanted to have with the man was ingrained in my head. I’d rehearsed it over and over again for years, and I knew exactly what I wanted to say to Donal O’Brien.

Now, if only I had the balls to actually go through with it. And looking at Flynn’s face, I wasn’t sure if I could. I wasn’t sure I could mar what might be the last meeting between father and son.

Yeah, life could be funny—but it could also be a real son of a bitch.