Until he reaches out and grabs me.
He pulls me upright. The heat of his hands seeping into my skin and racing throughout the rest of me.
I giggle, God help me.
He’s right. I don’t usually laugh this much. I never have a reason to.
Our hands are still entwined, but I have no real desire to let go of him.
I don’t know why I feel so comfortable with this stranger. This lunatic. This killer.
I choose not to question it.
“I’ve been taking care of my father my entire life,” I blurt without warning.
Cillian’s expression irons out a little and he listens.
“When Mama died, it felt like a part of Pa did, too,” I continue. “Like he checked out that day and never really checked back in.”
“Is that when the gambling started?” Cillian asks.
“He used to gamble before he met her,” I admit. “But she made him stop and he was happy to give it up for her. Then she died and it was like…”
“All his strength came from her,” Cillian says softly.
I nod. “Exactly.”
He stays quiet and still. Giving me space to say things I’ve never said out loud before.
“It didn’t used to be this bad,” I tell him. “He was careful. Well, more careful. But as I got older, he got worse.”
“Have you helped him pay his debts in the past?” Cillian asks.
I frown. “Sometimes.”
Cillian nods as though he expected the answer.
“You were just being there for your father, and I understand that. I respect it. But he’s a gambler, Saoirse. You were enabling him more than helping.”
The words feel harsh. I want to rail against them. I want to defend myself.
But what can I say?
He’s right.
Then I feel pressure on my fingers and I look down to find that my hand is still intertwined with Cillian’s.
“If I didn’t help, he’d have been killed a long time ago,” I say. “He owes you. He owes the Kinahans.”
“Actually, he just owes the Kinahans,” Cillian tells me.
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“The two thousand euro debt he owes the O’Sullivan clan has been… taken care of.”
I stare at him in shock for a moment. “Are you serious?”
“Almost never. But in this case, yes.”