Let Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 2) (23 page)

I skim to the next picture. Again, she’s beaming. Her arms around my shoulders, her face against mine. Damn, she’s beautiful, too beautiful for the likes of a screwed up sap like me.

That doesn’t stop me from texting her.

Right now my memories are drowning me in darkness and saturating me with their poison. As stupid as it sounds, only Sol and the memories of us are capable of stopping this shit.

“Sol, I really need you here,” I speak into the mic, my voice shaking even though I don’t want it to. Another memory flashes across my mind, this one of Killian when he found out what happened to Sofia. Hell, it’s like these memories are sucker-punching me, demanding I pay attention.

I glance down at the screen. Of course the voice to text translates her name into “soul”. I don’t bother fixing it, probably because she found a way into
my
soul.

Shit. Or what’s left of it.

I watch the screen, waiting for her to text back, swallowing my pseudo drink down with a lot of effort. I’m still watching my phone, waiting for it to ring when the bartender makes his way back to me. “You want another one?” he asks, motioning to my empty bottle.

It tastes like shit and I feel like shit because I can’t drink the “real” kind. And because my girl isn’t down here with me or bothering to text back.

“I’ll take a Corona,” I say, twisting the bottle in my hand.

“You sure?” he asks.

Because only alcoholics trying not to be alcoholics drink that piss water,
he doesn’t add. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

One beer. A real one. What could it hurt?

I lift my phone when it buzzes. I’m relieved when I see it’s Sol texting until I read what she has to say.

I’m sorry. But I’m not going to be able to make it.

“Oh my God. That’s the Fury―Finn O’Brien,” some woman squeals behind me. 

I ignore her, and the friend she’s with who asks if she’s sure it’s me.

Because of your mom?
I text back.

She waits to respond.
Because of a lot of things
, she finally answers.

I start to text back when she adds,
I don’t think I’m the best person for you right now.

Fuck.
Doesn’t she know she’s the only person I need?

You’re wrong
, I text back
. Come down to A.C. so I can prove how wrong you are
.

The bartender slides a Corona in front of me. I reach to pull a twenty from my wallet, but the bartender shakes his hand. “It’s on the ladies,” he says, jerking his chin toward the end of the bar.

I nod my thanks in their direction. Big mistake. The blond and the brunette―both with extra-large fake tits shimmy down. “Hi,” the brunette says. “I’m Lindsey, and this is Tiffany.”

“Hey,” I say. I huff when Sol sends me another text.

I’m sorry. I can’t.

My breath spreads across the screen before disappearing. I know she’s screwed up from the way we found her mother. Hell, how can she not be? But she has to realize it screwed me up, too.

Her mom may be suffering from mental illness. But right now, so am I. Is that where I’m headed? Part of me knows that it is. This depression shit―that’s what it’ll do to me in time. These meds I’m on, aren’t doing anything―I’ve been on them what? A couple of weeks? Mason said it would take time for them to kick in, but what am I supposed to do in the meantime? When will they stop me from seeing all the bad stuff I’ve lived and breathed?

I still wake up hating myself, fucking agonizing over what I’ve been through. But now, after the incident with her mom, it’s like I can’t get away from it even long after I’m awake.

It’s more than anyone can take. I know it is. There’s no relief from it . . . well, almost.

It’s only when Sol’s with me that I see how good life can be. She doesn’t judge, she doesn’t stare at me like I let her down―like I can’t possibly screw up worse. She just listens, speaking softly like I need her to, and lighting up my world with her smile.

At least she used to. Now she’s not even here.

Please, Sol. I need you, baby,
I type out.

“Girl problems?” Mindy or whatever the hell her name is asks.

“That’s one way to put it,” I answer, waiting for Sol’s response.

I can’t
, she texts back.
Finn, I’m not in a good place
.

Neither am I without you
, I respond. I don’t mean to put my baggage on her. God knows she’s going through her own kind of hell. But she and I, together we make sense. We’re good as one. But apart, I don’t think either of us can make it.

When she doesn’t reply to my last text, I toss my phone on the bar and lean against the slippery wood, frustrated and nervous about the next swarm of memories that will come without her here. No sooner do I close my eyes than I see her mother covered in blood, that crazy smile glued to her face as she looks at the ceiling, laughing at shit that wasn’t there.

I want to shake my head and admit how messed up that is―and it is. But there’s a piece of me wondering if one day someone will find me that way, alone in a row house, happy that I’m dying so I’ll finally have some mother-fucking peace. I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying not to curse with frustration since the other part of me doesn’t want to hurt my family or Sol―it wants to live and be happy.

I just don’t know how.

I down the beer, the liquid cooling my insides, but offering only marginal relief. “Can I ask you something?” the brunette says.

I turn, like the blonde, she seems all excited, even though I’ve mostly ignored them. “Sure.”

“Are you Finn O’Brien?”

“That’s me,” I say.

Her friend does a little finger wave to the bartender, similar to what Sol did a few weeks back when she wanted me to follow her into my bedroom. The bartender doesn’t miss a beat and slams another Corona in front of me.

“Your brother’s Killian O’Brien, right?” she asks.

I nod because what else am I going to do?

“I knew it,” she says. “Me and Tiff have been following MMA for years―we were like, so thrilled when your brother won the championship.” Her smile goes from cheery to playful. “And when you came along. Let’s just say we were a little more thrilled.”

“Thanks.” I throw back the beer. Maybe it’s because I’ve been sober, or maybe it’s because I’ve been cutting weight, but this one has me feeling something. It’s not much. But it’s there.

She inches over. “Do you mind getting a picture with us?”

“Sure,” I mutter.

I slip my arms around them when they ask the bartender to take our picture. He drops a few shots close to the blonde before lifting their phones from the bar. The celebrity thing comes with the MMA status. I see it as part of the job, part of the image. It’s all good, and it doesn’t mean anything. So when they lean against me and press their palms against my pecs and abs, I let them. Just like I let them kiss my cheeks. But when the blonde flicks my earlobe with her tongue and tries to take a tug with her teeth, I step away.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I have a girlfriend,” I tell her.

She glances at her bestie like she’s disappointed, like she expected a lot more. But I mean what I say. My problem is, I’m starting to feel a little too good. I finish my beer as another is placed in front of me along with a shot. There’s another shot after that, making the beers that follow easy to take.

I’m not supposed to drink. I’m not supposed to be here. But I want to forget about everything―Sol’s mother, all I’ve seen, and what I’m feeling by not having Sol and her smile here with me.

Except after another few drinks I forget
too
much.

Like why I shouldn’t be here at the bar and with these women.

CHAPTER 24

Sol

I crank the heat in my car. God, it’s already April, but the nights are still freezing. At a light I call Wren.

“Hello?” she says.

“Wren, it’s Sol. I’m down in A.C., but I can’t reach Finn, and Sofia and Killian are tied up. Do you know where he is?”

“You’re just getting here now?” she asks.

It’s almost two in the morning. Like Finn, she probably expected me hours ago. I’m too embarrassed to admit I almost didn’t come. To be honest, I didn’t have any desire following the week I had.

The only institution my father’s insurance would cover was something out of a nightmare. I’ve spent every day visiting my mother, trying to protect her and shield her in the way I failed to do before she attempted suicide.

If it hadn’t been for our extended family rallying and offering to pay for her care at a private facility, that horrible institution is where she’d still be. I couldn’t stop crying when Teo gave me the news―so thankful they could help her, but so crushed that this is what’s become of her life. She doesn’t know me. As much as I need my mother, it’s like I’m nothing to her.

“I couldn’t leave until late,” I say, sparing Wren from the latest drama.

Obviously, she can hear in my voice that there’s more to my story. “You okay?” she asks, that underlying tone of concern softening her speech.

“Not really,” I answer.

I’m drained. I’m done. I can’t even pretend that I’m okay. It’s clear in my tone and in the way I carry myself. Emotionally and physically I’m beyond exhausted. Yet despite my need to sleep, I haven’t been able to. Not really. Just like I haven’t been able to be there for Finn.

Finn . . . Christ. I can’t believe I did this to him. As hard as life has been for him, finding my mother was the last thing he needed. Who am I kidding?
I’m
the last thing he needed. But he’s trying. It’s only fair that I try, too.

“Sorry,” Wren responds. “I’m at the hotel. Come here and we’ll figure things out.”

“You’re at the hotel?” I repeat.

She doesn’t miss the surprise in my voice. Wren loves club hopping and partying following the big fights. It’s odd for her to already back in her room.

“Yeah. Rough night,” she mutters. “How far away are you?”

I glance at the overhanging street signs. “I just turned on Renaissance Way.”

“Okay. I’ll come down. Just grab your stuff and have the valet park your car. We’ll register it under my room and I’ll help you find Finn.”

“You don’t know where he is?” I ask.

If he wasn’t with Killian and Sofia, I thought for sure he’d be with Wren. “No. But there are a couple of fighters he’s chummy with here, too. He’s probably with them.”

It’s possible. But most fighters party hard following the main event, something Finn’s tried to avoid. If he’s with them now, it could mean trouble.

I shouldn’t go there, but I can’t shake the feeling that if he’s out partying, I’ve pushed him to it. My family problems were the last thing he needed in his life.

“Wren, I’m here,” I say, when I see the sign to the Water Club. “Could you come down?”

“I’m on my way, girl,” she says.

The valet opens the door for me as a big gush of wind slams into me. I huddle into my coat and snag my large purse. A change of underwear and a toothbrush are all I brought with me. I can’t stay with Finn like before, my mother needs me. But I also can’t ignore him. Not after how good he’s been to me and not with how much he still means to me.

After rereading his texts, I realized that in trying to protect him, I was hurting him, deeply. He’s already been through so much. I won’t allow him to suffer more at my hands.

“Are you a guest of the hotel, miss?” the valet asks.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

I hurry into the lobby, seeking warmth and hoping it won’t take me long to find Finn. My phone buzzes. I hurry to see who’s texting me, hoping it’s him, only to see a message from Sofia.

We’re on our way back to the hotel. Where are you?

The hotel lobby
, I answer.
Wren’s coming down for me
.

Where’s Finn?
She asks.

I don’t know,
I respond.

He hasn’t replied to my last few texts. I know he’s mad. I can’t blame him and wish I could make things right. But I swear as much as I love him, I can’t help feeling like I’m hurting, rather than helping him.

“Sol!” Wren calls out when she sees me.

She’s dressed in those Victoria Secret sweatpants she loves and a long-sleeved shirt, leaving me with the impression she’s been back to her room a while. But it’s the large bruise along her eye and cheek that has me hurrying to her.

“Oh, my God. What happened?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “Went to a bar, got into it with some stupid girl. Her boyfriend nailed me when I knocked her on her ass.”

“Wren! Some guy hit you?”

She shrugs again. “Like I said, rough night.”

“Were you by yourself, did anyone help?”

She grabs my hand, leading me toward the front desk. “Yes. And yes,” she says, before turning her attention to the woman working the desk. “Hey, I need to register a car under room 1129.”

“Wren, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Only that the bouncers tossed him out,” she answers. “They were calling the police, but I didn’t want the hassle and left.”

The clerk passes me a card to fill out, but all I can do is gape at Wren’s bruises. She’s a tough girl, and she teaches self-defense. This guy must have been a fighter, or trained, or something. “Your brothers are going to freak out,” I say, pointing out the obvious.

“Probably. But most of them aren’t here because Finn wasn’t fighting. I was bored and needed to blow off some steam. Thought I’d go for a drink. If I knew this would happen I would have stayed in.”

She’s giving me too many details and explaining
way
too much, like she’s been rehearsing what to say. “You weren’t with the other fighters?” I press. Whoever hurt her is someone who’s used to brawling. Based on the damage, that much is clear.

“No, I told you I was by myself,” she says, trying a little too hard to sound casual. She laughs and taps on the card I’m supposed to be filling out. “Come on. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever been in a fight. Fill out the card and let’s find Finn so I can get back to bed.”