The Monster (Boston Belles #3) - L.J. Shen Page 0,57
world if I just put surveillance on her, as I did on so many other people in the city, but that was admitting defeat and succumbing to the idea that I gave a fuck, and I didn’t give a fuck.
Fuck, I gave a fuck.
Well, half a fuck.
Definitely not enough of a fuck to fuck up my entire working relationship with the Brennans, that was for sure.
Sparrow pushed Dijon-covered Brussels sprouts and a pile of sweet mashed potatoes into my hands. I went back to the dining room to unload the food. When I came back, she cornered me between the fridge and the kitchen island.
“Are you sure it’s not about Cat?”
“Positive. And by the way, buying her a tombstone? Dumb move. Grow a fucking spine, Spar.”
“I have a spine. I also have a son who is so deeply in denial about his feelings, he can’t see straight. Have you ever heard of Selichot?” She tried—and failed—to tuck her crazy ginger curls behind her ear.
“No.” I reached to the loose tendril, helping her.
“Every year, practicing Jews recite penitential poems and prayers leading to the High Holidays. The thirteen attributes of mercy are a central theme throughout these prayers. Instead of going to a Catholic confession, the Jews go to the people they have wronged individually and ask for their forgiveness. It’s soul cleansing, they say. I have a feeling one day you’ll wake up and realize you need to atone—to receive forgiveness—for your sins. I think this day is fast approaching, and having a tombstone to go visit will serve you well.”
“Ask for forgiveness from Cat?” I stroked my chin, pretending to mull this over. “Forgiveness for what? Being the fastest sperm who was unfortunate enough to bump into her egg … or expecting her to perform her motherly duties for the half second she raised me?”
“For hating her,” Sparrow said, her voice steady, her chin high. “A son cannot hate his mother.”
“This one can and does. Actually, it’s not even hate. I’m indifferent, which is so much more humiliating.”
“Neutral men are the Devil’s allies.” She snatched my hand from her face, squeezing, refusing to let me go.
“The Devil and I get along fine.” I smirked, amused by her display of emotions, arching one eyebrow. “Anything else?”
“What are you not indifferent about?” she demanded.
“Nothing. Nothing matters to me.”
“Bull, meet shit,” she hissed. “Something is bothering you.”
“It’s none of your concern.”
“And it’s not yours either, right? Big Sam Brennan doesn’t care about things. He is above emotions,” Sparrow poked. I saw what she was trying to do. Make me take action, pursue what I wanted, blah blah fucking blah.
The only thing that bugged me, remotely, was the Nix thing, and I wasn’t going to pursue it.
Knowing what Aisling did for a living wasn’t going to make any difference. The more I knew about her, the more I wanted to get to know her, and there was no point in that because soon enough, I was going to kill her father.
“Mom!” Sailor called from the dining room. “Hurry up, Roon Loon is starving.”
Sparrow brushed past me but not before pinning me with a look.
Dinner was uneventful. Hunter talked shop, Troy talked basketball and football, and Rooney tried to sneak scraps of food under the table for her imaginary, friendly monster. Afterward, Sailor and Troy served dessert while I crawled around on all fours. Rooney rode me, using my hair as reins, her laughter rolling down my back.
Three hours later, I was on my way to the door after completing my familial duties for the week. Sparrow grabbed my arm on my way out—because why the fuck not?—and flashed me an I’m-about-to-give-you-a-mouthful-and-there’s-jack-shit-you-can-do-about-it look.
“Remember our conversation the night of?”
“Night of?” I asked sardonically.
“The night you moved in with us permanently.”
The night Cat finally threw me to the curb.
“What about it?” I tensed, even after all these years.
“I told you one day a woman was going to change your mind about all women.”
I cocked my head, flashing her a pitiful look.
“You were wrong.”
“I’m about to be right. I have a feeling. A mother always has a feeling about her children. I was watching you today and…” she stopped, squeezing my arm tighter “…I don’t know how to explain this, but it is close. I could feel it. But you are fighting this. I can tell. You can’t reject fate, Sam. Whatever it is, go to her.”
Petting her head, I said, “She better fucking hope I don’t go to her because everything I touch, I ruin.”