One Good Reason (Boston Love #3)(98)

He pulls in a breath. “Then tell him. Nothing I want more than to see you happy, babe. You deserve it. You deserve it so much.”

He hugs me, then, and I let my tears flow. He’ll never admit it, but I’m not the only one with wet eyes when we pull away.

In some ways, it’s an ending.

For so long, it’s just been Luca and me. Us against the world.

Now, things are changing. We’ve opened the doors to a whole new family of people, and that’s going to take some getting used to — for both of us. But, like Luca told me not too long ago…

Change is scary. But you’re not required to be the same person you were ten years ago, ten weeks ago, ten days ago. Hell, you don’t even have to be the person you were ten minutes ago. You’re free to be whoever the hell you want.

This life — full of friends and laughter and love — is a change I’m ready for.

My last visitor of the day is an unexpected one.

When Agent Conor Gallagher walks into my hospital room later that night, I’m pretty positive I’m hallucinating. I sit up straighter against my pillows and try to clear my parched throat. Parker’s conveniently absent – he disappeared a few minutes ago with a flimsy excuse about getting me ice water. Apparently, he thought I’d need space for whatever conversation I’m about to have with the FBI.

“Miss Bloom.” Conor’s voice is gruff but his icy blue eyes have thawed a bit. “Feeling better, I hope?”

“Much.”

“Glad to hear it. “

“Why are you here, Agent Gallagher?”

“People who help me take down bad guys get to call me Conor.”

My lips twitch. “Why are you here, Conor?”

“Two reasons.” He takes a step closer to the bed. “First, to officially thank you for your help on behalf of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Robert Lancaster is behind bars because of you. Thousands of his former employees will get compensation for a slew of illnesses because of you. That’s fine work, Bloom.”

My eyes are stinging again.

Damn it. When did I become such a cry baby?

I nod because I don’t trust myself to speak.

“The second reason I came will probably be more interesting to you,” he adds, his voice careful.

My eyebrows lift. “Oh?”

“A few days ago, when things were touch-and-go with your health, I got a call from your boyfriend. Actually, I got about ten calls, until I finally realized he wasn’t about to give up and called him back.” His mouth twists into a grin. “Persistent bastard, isn’t he?”

I laugh. “Yes. He is.”

“Anyway, he told me about your parents.”

I go still.

Conor’s eyes narrow. “Guess that explains why you were so intent on hacking FBI files.”

“I…” I swallow hard. “I…”

“I didn’t come here to call you out.” Conor shrugs. “I came here because I looked into it.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a blank envelope. “I’m not supposed to give you this – it’s technically classified. But I’ve never been overly fond of bullshit protocols.”

My eyes are locked on the envelope as he passes it to me. For a moment, I just stare at it, afraid to reach out and take it.

“You want to read this, Zoe,” Conor says in a voice so unlike his typical gruff tones it makes my throat start to close. “Trust me.”

Without another second of hesitation, I reach out and grab the answers I’ve been searching for since I was five years old. My fingers shake as I slide the single sheet of paper from the folder – the un-redacted version of the file I’ve been trying to decode for ages. As I read, my eyes fill with tears.

“Your father witnessed a murder, on his way home from work one night. It was a mob hit.” Conor’s voice is steady as he narrates the words swimming in front of my eyes. I’m crying too hard to read them. “He came to the FBI. Offered to testify, to put one of the highest boys in the MacDonough mob behind bars. It would’ve been a huge win for the Bureau, at the time.”

“So… MacDonough had him killed.” My voice breaks. “Before he could testify.”

Conor nods. “Your father was a good man, Zoe. He was trying to do the right thing, trying to put away a criminal. A mob boss. Most people wouldn’t have the guts to do that. I guess that brave streak running in your veins is genetic, Bloom.” His eyes are steady on mine. “In a way… It’s almost poetic justice that you were part of the efforts to put MacDonough away last spring, when you helped your friend Phoebe escape from him. Even if you didn’t know it at the time, you were taking down the man who ordered your parents’ murder. You got your revenge – he’s behind bars. He’ll never breathe free air again, if that’s any consolation.”

I take a shuddering breath. “Doesn’t really change anything, though, does it?”

Conor shifts from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable as he watches the tears stream down my face. “I just… thought you’d want to know.”

My wet eyes lock on his serious blue ones. “I did. Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely. “This… finally knowing… finally having answers… it means everything to me.”