Crush(63)

“Logan, it all sounds wonderful, but you know I can’t leave the boutique. Rachel has Tuesday and Wednesday off and Peyton can’t manage things alone. I also have a schedule with Clementine that I like to keep to as much as possible. Routine is important for her right now.”

I picked the nail back up and pounded it into the wall. “I know all of that. I was thinking we could leave tonight after you close up and come back late Monday night, in time for the boutique to reopen on Tuesday. That way we won’t impact your work and your schedule with Clementine won’t need too much altering. It’s just one weekend away.”

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “It could work, but what about you? Don’t you have appointments?”

“I already checked and I don’t have any on Monday—my schedule is clear.”

Elle handed me the twin to the cuckoo clock that was already on the wall. “Do you really think it’s a good idea right now?”

I eyed the clock with disdain and then hooked it on the nail. “This? No.” I grinned. “But a weekend away with you, yeah, I do.”

She stared up at the clock. “That’s good, right there. And you know that’s not what I meant.”

I double-checked to make sure the clock wasn’t tilted and then waved my finger between them. “Are they going to go off at the same time?”

She nodded with a playful grin.

“Fuck.”

Her laugh sounded good. “I think you secretly want me to bring one home.”

I shook my head and caught her eye, seriousness taking over. “Elle, I’m fine. I know I’ve been in a bit of a funk and preoccupied with getting to the bottom of this drug ring over the last two weeks, but that’s why I need to get away. Everything is spinning and nothing is making sense. I just need to forget about my grandfather, Tommy, Patrick, about everything . . . even if it is only for a couple of days.”

Those green eyes, whose magic had spilled out into my life and changed it from a world of black and white to one where color actually seemed possible, looked contemplative. “It’s just that I don’t know if now is the right time.”

She’d been worried about me. That I wasn’t going to recover from my grandfather’s death. Sure, I’d been distant. Quiet. Gone a lot. Tracking endless leads taking me nowhere. Going on wild goose chases that only brought me back to the starting point. In my defense, my mind was constantly thinking and my body had to keep moving. It was how I coped. But I was Killian McPherson’s grandson, and he’d roll in his grave if he even sensed I’d let his death keep me down for too long. I looked over at her. I couldn’t believe how much I needed her. I couldn’t lose her. “I’m fine, or I will be as soon as all of this is over. Just hang in there with me. Give me some time to figure it out.” I was determined to find out who the Priest was and what his connection to O’Shea was. I felt like it was a big puzzle and all of the pieces fit in there somewhere.

Tears seemed to fill her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. And it’s not time that worries me. It’s you, going out there alone. Let your friends help you.” Her worry over me was evident. She didn’t like me going out on the streets on my own. Neither did Miles. Or Declan. I got it. Still, it was something I thought I should do by myself. But looking at her now, and after two weeks of getting nowhere, I knew it was time to stop being reckless and start being smart.

Climbing down the ladder, my grandfather’s voice came to mind. It’s not how you fall, Logan, he used to say, it’s how you get up that matters. Distancing myself from everyone hadn’t been on purpose, but his death had been a shock. The funeral was brutal and ever since, I’d been on a rampage to get to the truth. Every day I’d had to face the daunting reality that he was gone—because of me. It was harsh and tough to face. But my determination to make his death mean what he wanted it to mean—the freedom of my old man—was what had kept me grounded. Freeing my old man from the DEA was still on the table and that was what kept me moving forward, searching, looking, forging through all the shit. Even when it got me nowhere.

My old man surprised me. He was stronger than I’d ever thought he was. Somehow, he managed to stay away from the bottle. I knew it would take time for us both to truly accept that Killian wasn’t around anymore, but we both would in our way. We were the blood of a very strong man, after all.

As for why Patrick offered the swap of lives in the first place, that was pretty evident. Now up on RICO charges, his power was quickly dwindling, and getting rid of Killian was a power-play move. I’m sure in his own twisted way it somehow made him feel stronger, even behind bars, to have the authority to order a hit on the ex-mob boss. I’d made sure to put a crack in his shield, though. Let information slip on the streets that both Patrick and Tommy were going soft, turning state’s evidence against the gang. It was as much a lie as it was the truth, but I didn’t care. I wanted him out of play. Over the past two weeks the Blue Hill Gang had dismantled—every guy taking what he could and leaving town, or at least laying low. There had been no activity from any of them. Blanchet owed me one because chances were good that the Blue Hill Gang would completely dissolve very soon.

The information Tommy had told me about O’Shea still couldn’t be validated in any way. I had no idea if Tommy was telling the truth about his relationship with Lizzy, but my gut told me that it was at least partly true. Still, there were holes in his story. Mainly, how did Tommy know about the hit on my grandfather if he was out of the loop? Why would Patrick have told him? To gain his trust? To test him? Or was it possible someone in the organization leaked it to him? I had to find this out. It was key to trusting what Tommy had told me.