Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
And Aiden…He might say and do all the right things, but Sloan could see how much it killed him to see his siblings hurt. It wasn’t enough to push him to make different decisions, but the hurt was there all the same.
She was losing them.
The knowledge weighted her steps and made her head fuzzy. Everywhere she looked was a reminder that things were changing, faster and faster, until it was impossible for her to keep up. She slipped out the back door and inhaled deeply. The cool spring night eased her tension, but only a little.
A figure melted out of the shadows, and she tensed for a minute before she recognized her father’s man, Liam. “I’m going to the church.” She’d meant for the words to come out as a statement, but in reality they were closer to a question. She hated herself a little bit more for being so unforgivably timid.
Liam nodded. “I’ll get the car.”
“No.” The word came out sharper than she intended, and she had to clamp her mouth shut to stem an apology. “I want to walk.”
He hesitated, but finally nodded. “Okay.”
It wasn’t terribly far from the town house to Our Lady of Victories, but she couldn’t remember ever walking it before. It was still early enough in the evening that there was plenty of foot traffic, people going on about their lives, each with their own stories and trials and tribulations. It made her feel small and unimportant, which was strangely comforting. She was just one more person in a crowd, going about her business and focused on her own problems. I’m not that different from any one of these people.
It was a lie. No matter their stories, she doubted these strangers had to deal with things like arranged marriages, or being part of a criminal family enterprise, or a father who had never quite made it out of the Middle Ages.
The feeling of oneness passed, making her feel even emptier than she had before. And significantly more overheated. The worst of the afternoon heat might be past, but that didn’t stop her shirt from sticking to her back as she crossed the street. She tried to stop from wishing for the cool air-conditioning of their town car and failed miserably.
The O’Malleys might preach family before all, but it was to family that they were the cruelest. She wished she could set herself apart from that truth, but that would be a lie. Carrigan had been trying to reach her for months, and Sloan had ignored every single call, secure in her hurt and betrayal.
Because she should have chosen us. Not a Halloran.
There it was—the truth, petty and ugly. Once upon a time, Sloan had prided herself on her sensitivity and her willingness to listen and be the sole person who gave her various family members a shoulder to lean on. She wasn’t sure when that had changed—maybe with Devlin’s death, maybe even before that—but she was just as much part of the problem now as her father was.
The realization made her stomach lurch.
Needing to escape her own head, she focused back on the people around her. For all that Boston was famed for being a walking city, her family made a point of taking a car everywhere they needed to go. She’d never considered how elitist that act was, but as she stretched out her strides and walked down the sidewalk, she was faced with a startling truth—she’d missed out on a lot by taking those car rides. Maybe I’m not as much of an odd duck within the family as I thought. Maybe I fit in all too well. If that wasn’t depressing, she didn’t know what was.
Our Lady of Victories sat nestled on Isabella, just like it had for over a hundred years. There were countless buildings like that around the city—places that could trace their roots back to the 1700s. There were people like that, too, their family lines something they bragged about as if it actually meant something. It was the one area where the O’Malleys failed miserably. They hadn’t come over on the Mayflower or been part of the first settlers who’d carved this city out of the so-called savage land around it.
As a result, the O’Malleys would always be “new money.” And that wasn’t even taking into account their criminal connections. No, if her mother had once dreamed of being the belle of upper society, those dreams had turned to dust over the years. She’d adapted well enough. What was that old saying? I’d rather rule in hell than serve in heaven. A life view her mother clung to.
Sloan strode up the steps and through the massive front door. At this time of night, the church was almost deserted. There was an older woman in the first row, but that was it. Sloan gave her a wide berth. She didn’t want to talk to anyone tonight. She just wanted some kind of peace.