“You were born and raised in Chicago. You are a Callahan. No matter how badly you want to erase it, that is who you are.”
“For the love of God! We are not in the 16th century, Ethan!” He clenched onto his bag tighter. His once blank stare began to narrow on me, a look I’d become familiar with. “We aren’t princes or gods or wolves or lions or beasts or whatever the fuck Mother and Father filled our heads with. Do you ever listen to half the shit that comes out of your mouth? Or anyone else for that matter? We’ve deluded ourselves into believing we are all powerful, but, Brother, we are not! Didn’t Mother’s death prove that? Didn’t Father’s? Grandfather’s? For fuck’s sake, Ethan, a church fell on top of our grandmother! Does that look like power? I know you truly believe in the greatness that is our family but outside your bubble, the Callahans are just like the hahdo boys from Milie.”
It took all my strength not to beat the shit out of his little ungrateful bitch ass. “Get the fuck off my jet.”
“Like I told you, it’s—”
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
The shots seemed never-ending and the only thing that crossed my mind was to run toward the door, toward the bullets…Ivy!
I was prepared for the worst, for blood, for death.
However, by the time I got outside I saw neither blood nor death. Ivy rose slowly by the side of the old black Dodge, Greyson shielding her.
“Apparently, we got jokers in the city,” Lex yelled to me, lifting up a string of homemade fireworks still smoking.
Still gripping the gun in my hand tightly, I silently walked over to Ivy. She dusted off her scraped up hands.
“I’m fine,” she answered, though I did not ask the question. However, I was not. This made the second time I’d let her out of my sight for merely a moment and she’d gotten hurt. And there would not be a third.
“Ethan, I’m fine, really.” She laughed it off, though I could tell she wasn’t fine. She was shaken.
“Sir.” Greyson handed me the phone as it rang, both of us knowing who it was.
“Welcome to Boston, Mr. Callahan,” Cillian spoke on the other line. “I hope you didn’t mind the fireworks.”
I didn’t speak.
“Huh.” He snickered. “I guess you did not. And here I thought, what are a few sparks between friends? Let’s not dwell on it. In fact, we’re having a block party this afternoon. You and my cousin should come. She should remember the way.”
When he hung up, I handed the phone back to Greyson, just as Wyatt placed the gun back in the holster around his ankle and rose back to his feet. He walked past me, toward a silver-gray 1960 Alfa Romeo Giulietta Spider, a redhead in tight jeans and one of his shirts leaning against the driver’s door, waiting for him. I had no more words for him because I knew he understood. He wasn’t running from me. He was running from himself. When he realized the only way to lose your shadow was to die, he’d be back. So there was nothing left to say.
“Give her the keys,” I spoke up, opening the driver’s side door of my own car for Ivy. Just like that, the spark in her blue eyes returned as she looked between them, eager for the key. When Lex handed it over she jumped in, rubbing her hand on the steering wheel.
“It’s so pretty.” She giggled.
Walking over to the passenger side, I looked back at them both. “Go back to Chicago.”
“Go back?” Greyson asked. “What about the p—”
“It’s evolved. Go home.” Seated next to her, I pulled off my tie, unbuttoning the top collar. However, she didn’t move. “Drive, Ivy.”
“To where?”
I didn’t answer.
NINETEEN
“My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean.”
~ Lana Del Rey
IVY
As I drove I found my whole body relaxing, not minding the silence, watching Ethan out of the corner of my eye every moment I had a chance. He was breathtaking, and I couldn’t explain it other than thinking of that moment right before it rained. The way a slight chill would fill the air and instinctively you would look up at the clouds, only to see them darken, lightning flickering through as it crawled over the sun and blocked the light. It was beautifully frightening and romantically catastrophic…that was Ethan when he became silent like this. It made me hold my breath. It made me sensitive to every move he made. From the way his eyes would shift from one person to another on the sidewalk to the way he’d tilt his head to the side, his arm rested on the door, every once in a while tapping his knuckles on his bottom lip, then gently rubbing his lip over the side of his finger.
I wasn’t simply turned on, but desperate. I wanted to know what was on his mind. I wanted to fall into the world he was losing himself in.
“There.” He pointed to the store. Confused but not arguing with him, I parked in front of the local Masters and turned to him. “Let’s go.”
Nodding, I followed him out. He stood in his navy suit and light purple shirt, sizing up the place. Without looking at me, he stretched out his hand, and I put the key in it. He glanced down at it and smirked, locking the car, placing it in my purse and taking my hand.
Oh.
“Look who’s all sweet again. You could have just asked for my hand,” I said, trying to ignore the heat radiating through his hand to mine and the rest of my body.
“Noted,” he said, swiftly killing my attempt to engage in conversation as we entered the store, the bell at the front door ringing as we did.
“Can I help you…?” the blonde teenage female started to say automatically until she looked at Ethan and she gawked for a moment, then became very…smiley, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Welcome to Masters. Do you need help finding anything?” she asked him because apparently I was invisible.
I was going to say something, but Ethan, letting go of my hand, walked past her like…well, like she wasn’t there, moving to the rack of clothes and looking through them.
“We’ll let you know.” I smirked at her, and for the first time she looked at me.
“Uhh, yeah, okay,” she muttered, a little embarrassed as she stepped aside, moving the cart of clothes she was hanging up for me to go through. Walking up next him, I watched as he grabbed a few things.
“We’re changing.” He let me know, reading a tag.
“Why?”
He paused and looked at me like he was confused as to why I was asking. “Because we look showy.”
“I’m pretty sure your cousin Nari lectured me on the importance of dressing showy.” Hence the reason for the painful pretty heels always on my feet.
“Chicago rules don’t apply here,” he said, pulling out a black wool men’s coat, and moved to another rack, but I grabbed his arm. He paused, allowing me to step in front of him.
Looking directly at his green eyes, I asked him the question that was starting to eat me up inside.