I sigh. “Artem’s been my family for my whole adult life,” I admit. “I’ve made L.A. my home…”
“But?”
I glance out towards the expanse of the farm I can see through the open door. “But it’s not really my true home. I left my true home a long time ago.”
“Ireland.”
“Yeah. And these last few months, I’ve been thinking a lot about Dublin,” I admit. “Been thinking about all the people I was forced to leave behind. I haven’t spoken to my mother in years. Or to Kian.”
“Kian?”
“My younger brother,” I explain. “Then there’s my older brother, too. I’ve lost touch with all of them. Maybe because maintaining contact was… hard.”
“I can understand that.”
“I almost died, Diego,” I say quietly. “The only reason I survived at all was because of you and Carla. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance at and life and…”
“You’re re-thinking your priorities.”
“Exactly.”
He nods wisely and takes a sip of his drink. “You don’t really want to go back to Los Angeles, do you?”
“Carla’s right,” I say. “I don’t think Artem needs me. He’s always been strong and resourceful. And honestly, I doubt I’d be much help to him. I need to get my shit together first. That’s if I could even find him, which has been hard to do.”
That’s true enough. With Budimir running the show in Los Angeles, Artem can’t exactly put out a beacon and a calling card.
And I’m mired in the middle of the mountains of western Mexico with few resources.
I’ve been staying here in part because no one knows I’m here. It keeps me alive, out of Budimir’s line of sight. I hope Artem and Esme are doing the same.
Still, he’s at least partially an excuse. A thing I tell myself so I can make this weird little timeout from my life stretch on just a tiny bit longer.
“Does that mean you’re going back to Dublin?” Diego inquires.
“I’m a wanted man in Dublin,” I point out.
He smiles. “Doesn’t sound like that’s gonna stop you.”
“I’d be a fool to go back.”
“Well, if the shoe fits…”
I guffaw and shake my head. For once, I don’t have a comeback ready.
“Cillian?” Diego says after a while.
“Hmm?”
“Is there someone else you’re going back for?”
I jerk my eyes up to meet his, a frown on my face. “Why do you ask?”
Diego shrugs. “Sometimes, I catch this look on your face. It kind of reminds me of myself… when I think of Alayna.”
I look into his eyes, wondering what to say.
I don’t like talking about Saoirse. It’s too fucking painful. Even after all these years, the pain is still fresh every time.