The Monster (Boston Belles #3) - L.J. Shen Page 0,91

“We’ll come up with a plan. I will go to the hospital and stay with Mother tonight. Hunter, you’ll take over tomorrow. Aisling needs some space from her for the time being.”

Hunter nodded. “Don’t worry, sis, we got this. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

I tried to regulate my breaths. I could feel Sam’s gaze on me. He seemed eerily quiet the entire conversation. Not that I expected him to weigh in on our family woes, but Sam wasn’t a fan of gossip. Usually when he lost interest in something, he removed himself from the situation.

Why did he stay in the room?

“I just need to clear my head,” I said quietly. “Her overdose was to get back at me. I’m afraid if I give her what she wants—more attention—it’ll defeat the purpose of strong-arming her into getting the help she needs.”

At the same time, moving out and going cold turkey was something I didn’t want on my conscience. She needed me, learned how to be dependent on me, and leaving now would be cruel.

“You’re right,” Hunter agreed. “We don’t want you near her. We’ll let her know it can’t carry on like this. Now that we’re in the picture, too.”

“I’ll give Aisling a ride home.” Sam stood up, his voice toneless.

I shot to my feet at the same time. “No, thanks. I’m parked outside.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Sam’s right.” Hunter gave me an apologetic look. “You’re in no condition to drive. Pick the car up tomorrow morning. Your body must be flooding with adrenaline. Try to take it easy tonight. We’ll tackle this clusterfuck tomorrow.”

“It’s a clusterfuck indeed. Which reminds me—now’s a great time to ask for a raise,” Devon drawled sarcastically, emerging from the shadows of the room. I forgot he was even here, which was an impossible task, seeing how gorgeous he was. “The Windsors draw less attention than you lot.”

“Hands to yourself, Brennan,” Cillian barked in Sam’s direction. “Remember your paycheck comes with stipulations.”

“Your neck does, too, Fitzpatrick.” Sam offered me his hand, helping me to my feet, leaving my brothers behind us. He pressed his hand to the small of my back, ushering me up the stairs back to his office.

“How are you feeling?” he asked tightly. I had an inkling the mere idea of pretending to care made his skin crawl, yet I oddly appreciated his concern, even if it wasn’t genuine.

“Fine.” I rubbed my forehead. “Just tired. Overstimulated.”

“Stay at my place. I have a spare bedroom and zero fucked-up parents living under my roof.”

“And I have two brothers who’d kill me if they find out I spent the night with you.” I sighed, inwardly admitting the offer was very tempting.

Sam wasn’t going to go to war with Da and my brothers just to be with me. I came to terms with that a long time ago. So there was no point in accepting his offer and creating more tension between him and the men in my family.

“A dead Aisling would make life easier for me. The offer still stands,” Sam remarked.

“Charming, but I’ll pass. I don’t go where I’m not welcome.”

“Since when?” he asked, dead serious.

“Since always.” I felt my cheeks flush. “For your information, you’re the only person to bring the crazy out in me.”

“Dangerous dick tends to do that to good girls.” He kicked the back door to his office open. “I had no idea things were that bad at home.”

We poured outside into Boston’s December freeze. A thin layer of ice coated everything, from the ground to the buildings and glass panes of windows. Red, white, and gold Christmas decorations hung on the streetlamps twinkled back at us. Sam clasped the back of my neck possessively, leading me to his Porsche like I was his prisoner.

“They weren’t always,” I heard myself say. “There had been ups and downs. Being the backbone of the family wasn’t so bad when the posture of our skeleton wasn’t terrible. The last weeks were the worst, though. Ever since the media picked up the story of Da’s stupid affair, things began deteriorating. Then the poisoning happened and the mysterious threatening letters. The heirloom cufflinks were the cherry on top of the crap cake.”

Sam unlocked his car and helped me inside the passenger seat. The drive to my house was quiet.

The first portion of it, anyway.

When we reached the affluence of the Back Bay, a silver Bentley closed in on us from behind. Sam’s eyes flicked to it in his rearview mirror.