Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)(76)

“Something is definitely up with O’Brien,” the other announcer agrees. “I thought the ref was going to stop the fight within the first few shots Lopez got in―”

“But then it was the bell that saved Lopez at the end of the round!” the other announcer interrupts, like he can’t believe what he saw.

My jaw slacks open when the camera zooms in on Lopez. His eyes aren’t even visible, and . . . holy shit, are his teeth bleeding?

I don’t realize I’m on my feet until the bell starts the next round and Finn attacks.

“Oh!” the crowd yells. Finn strikes Lopez with a roundhouse kick that connects with Lopez’s head and sends him soaring backwards.

Finn rushes him, jumping on top of him and nailing him with a hailstorm of hammer fists and elbows. I should be out of my mind excited. But this isn’t a fight, it’s a punishment. Finn is punishing Lopez.

I clasp my hand over my mouth. Finn is no longer there. He’s succumbed to that dark place where he relives his trauma and where he’s finally able to fight back.

My hands shake. I fall back onto to the couch when the ref rips Finn off Lopez. Finn staggers backward, his bruised eyes scanning the octagon like he’s not sure why he’s there or how he arrived. Killian races in, so does Curran. But instead of leading him toward the announcer, they lead him out, fast. The cameras follow, despite how Finn’s camp surrounds him, trying to shield him and keep the reporters away.

Finn appears to be hyperventilating, shoving his brothers away when they crowd him. He’s not well. My God, something is horribly wrong with him.

My phone buzzes in my hand, startling me. It’s another text from Sofia, one that causes my eyes to sting.

Without thinking, my focus travels to the photo of my mother, taken in a time when I was still her little girl and she could still love me. I have all this education, experience, and drive to help those in need. But it wasn’t enough to help her. I can’t shine a light in her dark place, I can’t pull her back into reality, and I can’t help her see what is actually there. And if I could have, I’m already too late.

Tears drip down to splash against my phone as I read Sofia’s text again.

Finn is in trouble. He needs you.

No. I can’t help my mother. But I can still help someone else that I love.





I drive so fast, it’s a wonder I’m not pulled over. The Wells Fargo Center isn’t far, only about twenty minutes from my house. But tonight, it feels like an eternity.

Sofia knows I’m coming. Except now that the fights are over, people are looking to leave, and it’s making it harder to park. I pull into a spot I think is close, but the size of the arena is so huge, I’m still far from the entrance.

My fingers dig into my purse, trying to find my phone as I run toward the building. I curse when something sharp pokes me, but manage to snag my phone and tap my screen to redial Sofia. She answers on the first ring. “Hello?”

Like a maniac, I weave through the crowd of people making their way out, speaking fast. “Sofia, I’m here. But I’m not sure where to go. I’m almost to the entrance. But I don’t have a ticket or-or―”

She hears the panic in my voice and tries to calm me. “It’s okay, honey. We’ll help you. Hold on.” Her voice becomes muffled as she speaks to someone else. “Sol is here. She’s almost to the entrance . . . Okay, where? . . . Okay . . . Okay. . . Sol? Seamus is coming for you. When you reach the entrance don’t go in. Walk toward the left and stay along the edge of the sidewalk. He’ll find you, okay? He’s coming for you.”

“All right, all right,” I repeat. For as gentle as she keeps her voice, I can tell she’s scared, too. I reach the front and cut a hard left. “How is he?” I ask.

The time it takes her to answer speaks volumes, but the way her voice trembles reflects the extent of her fear and almost makes me lose it. “He’s not good,” she answers.

My knees give a little. I don’t know what condition I’ll find Finn in, and I’m not positive my presence won’t trigger more trauma. I can’t even be sure I’m who he needs.

What I do know is that I’m not beaten and I’m not broken.

And neither is Finn.

I lurch forward, refusing to give up on him.

The crowd engulfs me, swallowing me whole. I’m not sure how Seamus will find me, or how I’ll be able to see him. But suddenly he arrives, riding inside a golf cart.

The guard driving punches the horn, parting the large cluster of people.

“Seamus!” I yell, waving and desperate to get his attention.

He sees me, instructing the guard to stop. He gets out long enough to help me into the back and slide in beside me. Seamus looks the most like Curran with the exception of his dark hair and leaner build. He always greets me with a big smile, and an even bigger hug. That’s not the case tonight.

He sits in silence, keeping his attention ahead. Maybe he doesn’t want to say anything the security guard might hear, or maybe the situation is just that serious. Whatever his reasons accelerate my anxiety, making me want to claw at my skin.

The golf cart zips down the lot, stopping at a side entrance where the press and a few reps are gathered. The reporters are speaking into their mics, their cameramen poised directly in front of them. Behind them, a wall of fighters stand with their arms crossed, evidently refusing to let anyone through.