Let Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 2) (31 page)

I glance down at my folded hands resting on the table, taking a moment to absorb everything he said. There are millions watching, and because of it, chances are there are several thousand who’ve been hurt like me, watching, too.

I think I should say something smart and articulate like Declan would, or answer in that crowd-pleasing way Killian always manages. But I’m not them so I say what I feel, and what I wished I would have believed long before now. “That it’s not their fault,” I say, once more catching sight of my face on that giant screen. “That there are a lot of bad people they’ll encounter in life. But that doesn’t mean life can’t be good, or that you can’t be happy no matter what happens to you.”

“Are you happy, Finn?” a female reporter asks.

It’s weird for someone in this circle to call me by my first name. “I’m working on it,” I answer, grinning because I mean what I say. “Because I want to be, and because I think it’s something everyone deserves.”

There are a few smiles and approving nods my way before the conference resumes full swing. But it’s what happens at the end that I don’t expect. It starts with Amarato clapping my back as we stand to leave, then Griffith telling me I did a good job. But when our opponents on the opposite end walk over to shake my hand, I’ll admit, it gives me one hell of a pause.

It’s not a pity thing―at least, that’s not how I take it―especially with how pissed some of them appear, and how more than one seems to understand where I’m coming from, and maybe where I’ve been. We start to pile out. I’m not saying what I did wasn’t hard. In fact, my chest is tightening in anticipation of the inevitable shit storm that’s coming―from social media―everyone who knows me, and from the haters who are going to be assholes just to be assholes. Most of all I’m dreading those questions I may not be ready to answer. Yet it’s my family, and how they look, that halts all thoughts of anyone but them.

Sofia is teary, Tess, Curran’s wife, is too, but they’re sweet like that. Sol, she’s my girl. I knew what I had to say would make her cry. That doesn’t stop her from throwing her arms around me when she sees me and meeting me with a kiss.

I smile against her lips as I lower her to the floor, happy she’s with me, and out of my mind that she plans to stay. My smile leaves town as the rest of my family makes their way forward. Wren . . . no matter what she says, and how hard she’s been denying it, I know she’s had it rough lately and that something is going on with her. So when I see her wiping her eyes, I’m not completely shocked that she’s crying. But to see Angus break down, to watch Seamus and Declan drag their hands down their reddening faces, and for big bad Curran to pinch the bridge of his nose like it’s going to somehow plug those leaky tear ducts, I’ll confess, it’s hard to watch.

Yet it’s Killian―my closest brother, the guy who did what he could to make things right―that I swear to Christ almost makes me crack. Almost.

I meet his face as the first of his grief releases. “I should have been there,” he tells me.

He should have been there to protect me he means. I frown, keeping Sol glued to my side. “You’ve always been there for me,” I tell him truthfully. My eyes scan each member of my family. “All of you.”

I mean what I say, trying to make them understand that like Sol, they’re everything to me, and that I appreciate all they’ve done and sacrificed for
me
―their youngest brother who never kept quiet and always found trouble. Instead I make them release more of their pain, and some of their pride too. But that’s my family. And that’s why I love them.

The thing is, now it’s time to get better, to show them I love me, too. Hell, I owe them that much.  

Mostly though, I owe it to myself.

Epilogue

Finn

Ever ride the crazy train and wonder how you’re going to get off? Let’s say me spilling my soul on national television was the ticket on and I got promoted to conductor. Like I thought, social media exploded. Yeah, yeah, there were trolls saying shit I didn’t need to hear or want to know. But what shocked me to hell and back was all the love that came from it.

That’s right, God damn love.

I had kids―some little, some big―calling me their hero. I had emails pouring in from all over the world where fans called me an inspiration and a true champ. But it was hearing from people who told me I gave them courage and hope that really hit home.

The head of Victim Services from the D.A.’s office, someone I’m pretty damn sure Declan is hot for, arranged for me to speak at schools, shelters, and conferences, once it became clear no one was letting the news of my past go. At first, I didn’t want to do it until I saw the impact. A kid came up to me following the first school I visited, telling me he was being hurt at home. He lives with his aunt now. It’s been a hard adjustment. But the last time I talked to him (yeah, we keep in touch) he told me for the first time in his life, he’s not afraid to close his eyes at night.

I always considered myself a fighter, but I never thought I’d actually have a cause―not one like this. Not one that matters so much. It’s good. Who am I kidding? It’s pretty damn awesome. I’m still working on me. Still seeing Mason. Are the bad moments still there? Sometimes. But they aren’t as bad, and the good times . . . yeah, they’ve never been so sweet.

Curran opens the door and pokes his head in from the hall, causing the roar of the distant crowd to fill the locker room. “Finnie, it’s time,” he says.

Jesus, he looks nervous. I tug on my Reebok sponsored T-shirt as Killian’s eyes cut to me.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Yup,” I answer, shaking out my arms, but doing little to shake off the energy bouncing me in place.

“I’m serious,” he says.

“So am I,” I tell him.

His stern demeanor vanishes at the sight of my grin, flashing me one of his own. “Yeah, you are, aren’t you?”

I snag Sol as she hurries up to me, meeting her with a kiss. Hell, I’m not going into my championship bout without a kiss from the best woman I know, and the only one who’ll hold my heart, forever.

“Love you,” she whispers against my ear as she clutches me.

“Cool,” I respond because it damn well is, and because one day soon, I’m going to give her a ring.

She laughs, before racing ahead with my family to find their seats. I march out, Curran and Killian flanking me. A camera is shoved in my face. I keep my head down the entire length of the hall until I step into the arena and the capacity crowd loses their shit.

That’s when I raise my chin, focusing on the octagon and thanking God Almighty that my time has come.

The cage door slams shut behind me as I jog into the octagon minutes later. Killian asked me if I was ready. I told him I was because it’s true. In standing up to fears, taking back my life, and grasping the happiness that for too long has dodged out of my reach, I’ve already won the fight of my life.

But as I look out and face the champ as he enters across from me, and I hear Sol scream, “Go, baby!” from the stands, I have to say, I can’t stop my grin despite the seriousness of this moment.

Yeah. I already won the fight of my life. Now, it’s time to win the next . . .

DEDICATION

To Jamie and Nic for always believing in me.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

There are many people to thank, including as always my wonderful agent and dear friend, Nicole Resciniti, and my best friend and husband, Jamie. Thank you for putting up with all the crazy and often hilarious. What would I do without you?

To my babies, thank you for your smiles, but most of all for your love and patience. Mommy loves you.

To my fellow authors, Kate SeRine and Amanda Flower, who always have kind words, and even kinder souls, thank you. I treasure our friendship now and always.

To the bloggers and the fans who have stood by me, you’re the reason I bleed my soul into every story. Thank you for your loyalty and your wonderful shout-outs. You’ll never know the extent of my gratitude.

To those who can relate to Finn or Sol, don’t be afraid to find your happiness. You need and deserve it. Take the first steps toward healing and enjoy life to the fullest.

For more information, contact RAINN, the Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (www.rainn.org).

Or

SAMHSA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration)

http://www.samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline

By Cecy Robson

The Shattered Past Series

Once Perfect

Once Loved

Once Pure
 

The O’Brien Family Novels

Once Kissed

Let Me

Crave Me
(coming soon)

Feel Me
(coming soon)

The Carolina Beach Novels

Inseverable
(coming soon)

Eternal
(coming soon)

Infinite
(coming soon)

The Weird Girls

A Curse Awakened
(novella)

The Weird Girls
(novella)

Sealed with a Curse

A Cursed Embrace

Of Flame and Promise

A Cursed Moon
(novella)

Cursed by Destiny

A Cursed Bloodline

A Curse Unbroken

Of Flame and Light
(coming soon)

Photo by Kate Gledhill of Kate Gledhill Photography

CECY ROBSON is a new adult and contemporary author of the Shattered Past series, the O’Brien Family novels and upcoming Carolina Beach novels, as well as the award-winning author of the Weird Girls urban fantasy romance series. A 2016 double nominated RITA® finalist for Once Pure and Once Kissed, Cecy is a recovering Jersey girl living in the South who enjoys carbs way too much, and exercise way too little. Gifted and cursed with an overactive imagination, you can typically find her on her laptop silencing the yappy characters in her head by telling their stories..

www.cecyrobson.com

Facebook.com/Cecy.Robson.Author

instagram.com/cecyrobsonauthor

twitter.com/cecyrobson

www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomCecyRobsonAuthor

This book contains excerpts from
Feel Me
and
Crave Me
the forthcoming books in the O’Brien Family novels by Cecy Robson in addition to Inseverable, the first book in her Carolina Beach novels. The excerpts have been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming novels
 

READ ON FOR AN EXCERPT FROM

Feel Me

An O’Brien Family Novel

by Cecy Robson

CHAPTER 1

Melissa

I stare at the nameplate perched on my father’s desk:
District Attorney Miles Fenske
. It proclaims his position, allowing those who read it a glimpse of what he’s accomplished. Yet it’s only a glimpse. It’s not a true representation of all he is, or all he means to me. The nameplate is cheap, unlike the generous soul who stares back at me with the same loving expression he’s held since the first moment I saw him.

What are you thinking, Melissa?
He signs to me, moving his hands in beautifully fluid motions.

We’re alone in his office. He doesn’t need to sign to keep our conversation private. He could whisper, and I would still be able to read his lips. But he knows I’m more comfortable communicating with my hands, probably because American Sign Language is one of the many things we learned together. As a child I considered it our very own secret language, something he and I could share away from the hearing world.

That you’re making a mistake
, I sign back.

My comment earns me a smile, but I can see his concern, despite the crinkles around his eyes that deepen when he grins. “You’re going to have to trust me,” he says aloud.

I let out a breath. He knows I trust him. How could I not?

I was brought to the Lehigh Valley District Attorney’s office when I was about six years old, after my biological mother had attempted to sell me in exchange for drugs. My mother probably thought it was a brilliant plan. Being born with profound hearing loss, I couldn’t speak, couldn’t communicate, and couldn’t understand. Which meant, I couldn’t tell anyone what was about to take place.