Binding Rose: A Dark Mafia Romance(98)

He never understood the life of made men.

Never agreed with our actions nor how we earned our living.

He attended too many of his friends’ and kins’ funerals, sang too many Danny Boys, for it not to have made a deep impact on his soul. He was too good. Too kind. Too damn empathetic to the world’s pain, and he suffered even more for the part our family had in such destruction. And so, he did the only thing he could do to stop his misery. He killed himself just so he could finally find the peace that had eluded him all his life.

My brother was the least selfish person I have ever met.

And yet, it was his last and only selfish act that permanently scarred me.

“I miss you, brother. But I still can’t forgive you,” I whisper, letting the water fall down my face, pretending my tears aren’t mixed in with it.

After there are no more tears to be shed, I get out of the shower and walk into my bedroom to put on some sweatpants. A quick glance at my phone tells me it’s not yet four in the morning. Too early to start the day and too late to go back to sleep. I decide to answer some emails from my office, but when I pass Rosa’s room and hear her small cries coming from inside, panic sets in. I stand by the door, hearing her weep, knowing I’m the cause of such anguish. The way I treated her last night and again today still shames me. I couldn’t even handle the damage I had done to her sober, needing to drink myself into a stupor just to gain my nerve to do what had to be done.

I shouldn’t be surprised that lately my nights are filled with nightmares of Patrick.

My guilty conscience has always had a way of manifesting at the most inopportune times.

And after all I’ve done to my wife, the devil himself should come to me in my sleep and have his way with me.

I know I should leave Rosa to her grief, but as each of her pained wails get louder, so does my resolve to stay away from her evaporate. I creak the door open and see her twist and turn in the bed, tears similar to the ones I just shed streaming down her face.

The devil is even crueler than I gave him credit for.

Instead of continuously tormenting me in my sleep, he decided my wife was fair game.

I quickly run inside, slide in next to her on the bed, and wrap my arms around her.

“Shh, acushla. It’s only a bad dream,” I coo softly in her ear.

She nestles into me, hiding her face in the crook of my neck, her tears scorching my skin.

“Shh, love. You’re safe. Shh. All is well. Shh,” I try to comfort her, rubbing her back so her tears can subside. But each one that falls is another cut to my already slashed-up heart.

“Tiernan,” she croaks, her voice still sounding half asleep and in pain.

“I’m here, acushla. I’m here. You’re safe, love. You’re safe,” I repeat on a loop, hoping my voice will coax her fully awake and away from the demons that plague her.

I run a hand down her spine while craning her head back just enough so I can look at her properly. I brush her wet locks away from her face and kiss her temple. Then her cheek. Then the other cheek. Then the tip of her nose.

“Tiernan,” she whispers again, her palm going to the nape of my neck, while her other hand presses up against my pec where my family crest is tattooed.

“You had a bad dream, acushla. All is well now.”

“No.” She shakes her head adamantly, tears still freefalling. “It wasn’t a dream. It was real. It was real, Tiernan.”

My palms cup her face so she can look me in the eye.

“Just a dream, wife. No other demon here aside from your husband.”

She sobs on a hiccup at my failed attempt at humor. Shay has always been the funny one in the family. I lack the capacity.

“I can’t have children, Tiernan. I can’t,” she cries, making a large lump clog my throat at the desperation in her eyes. “God is punishing me. For what I’ve done. For what my family has done. I’ll never have children because of it. I don’t deserve such a blessing when all my life I’ve lived at the expense of other people’s suffering.”

“Stop.” My tone is so severe that her sob actually stops midway. “You are not being punished. God has a long list of assholes who deserve his wrath way before you ever make the list. You are good, acushla. So fucking good, my soul weeps sometimes at how good your heart is.”

She tries to shake her head, but I force her to keep still.

“God does not punish the kind-hearted. He does not punish those who still see beauty in this world. He does not punish the frail and delicate. If that is the kind of God you believe in, then fuck him. He doesn’t deserve your kind soul. In fact, I don’t think there is anyone who does. I sure as fuck don’t.”

Her lashes beat a mile a minute, as if stunned with all the things that I’m saying.

“You don’t think you deserve me?” she asks, apparently the only thing she got out of my rant.

“I know I don’t, acushla. Not after everything I’ve put you through,” I confess mournfully.

Not after last night when I purposely hurt you with my lies just so you wouldn’t see my fear.

Her eyelashes continue to flutter, but at least there are no more tears.

“Why are you here, Tiernan?” she asks outright, pushing herself out of my grip. My arms feel naked without her in them, but I don’t make a move to pull her to me.