He frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that it blinds you,” I try to explain. “When you trust someone, it takes a beat before you can open your mind to the fact that they might not be trustworthy. Your men have all been with the family for years, right? Ninety-nine percent of them probably are loyal. But one might have slipped through the cracks.”
He’s dour, uncertain. “You think I’m right?”
“I don’t know for sure,” I reply. “But I think if you have an instinct about something, it’s probably worth looking into it.”
He takes a moment and nods slowly, as though he’s processing my words. “Thanks.”
I’m trying not to be too excited about the fact that he seems comfortable opening up to me about all this.
“Did my father give you anything useful?” I ask tentatively.
“Nothing I don’t already know,” Cillian says with obvious disappointment. “Tristan had him discharged and taken back to your house.”
“I know. Pa told me.”
He gives me a curious little glance that borders on being secretive.
“What?”
“Apparently, Tristan questioned your father about me.”
I stiffen. “About you?”
“He seems to be under the allusion that I might still be a… threat to him,” he says sort of vaguely.
“Well, you are the son of the O’Sullivan don,” I point out.
Cillian only shakes his head. “That’s not the kind of threat I’m talking about,” he says. “He seems to think that you might still have feelings for me.”
He frames it almost like a question. And I can only stare at him, trying to figure out an answer that doesn’t sound like a lie.
“I… Well, I mean… Tristan has always been an extremely insecure man,” I answer at last. “The bullies always are.”
He looks at me carefully. He’s too smart to miss the fact that I haven’t exactly given him a direct answer.
But thankfully, he doesn’t press me for one.
“‘Bully’ is too kind a word for him,” Cillian says. “Apart from that, Tristan didn’t really give much away about the Kinahans’ plan. And given that they planned on delivering Padraig to my doorstep in a body bag, I doubt he would have.”
“I’m sorry, Cillian,” I say sincerely. “I wish I could help.”
“You being here at all is a help to me.”
I smile. “Is that right?”
“You keep me calm,” he replies simply.
My chest tightens as I think back to when we were both eighteen, unencumbered with pain and loss. With unwanted husbands and disappointed fathers.
“Fuck me,” Cillian curses bitterly, looking out into the pristine lake.
“Hey,” I say gently. “You’ll figure this out.”
He shakes his head. “I should have had them back here by now.”
“It’s only been days since they were taken,” I point out. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”