Page 16 of Beat of Love
Figures.
Siobhan brought a hand to the baby’s back and gave a light laugh. “Ava’s the shy one.” Her voice was easy, but she didn’t step closer. Didn’t offer a hug. Didn’t meet his eyes for long.
Rafferty just nodded again, and the arrival of her husband forestalled any further awkward conversation.
The last time he’d seen Daniel had been just before his ill-fated trip to South America, nearly two years ago. And damn it, if he’d listened — if he’d taken his brother-in-law’s advice and let his thirst for revenge go — his return to Lawson’s Landing would’ve been a hell of a lot different.
“Rafferty,” Daniel said, shifting Ava’s twin, Zoë, from one arm to the other before extending a hand.
Rafferty stepped forward, holding out his arm.
“No, Vinnie! Stay away. Pa said he’s a bad man!” The child’s voice rang out across the yard, clear and alarmed.
Dropping his hand, Rafferty’s head snapped toward the sound.
A young boy stood rigid, one arm flung protectively in front of a younger lad. Both stared at Rafferty, eyes wide, their fear plain and unfiltered.
“Valentino!” a woman exclaimed, her tone edged with sharp rebuke. The last time Rafferty had heard that voice was in the hospital where he’d been forced to make the decision to disconnect his wife — her sister — from life support. Cecelia had accused him then, rightly so, of being the reason Charlie had ended up in that bed. Walking up with quick, deliberate steps, her expression full of apology, she said, “I’m so sorry, Raff. Kids repeat things they don’t understand.” She touched his arm lightly.
He managed a shrug. “It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t. Not really.
Then he caught the flicker of movement behind Valentino. It was Aidan, standing stone-faced with his arms folded.
Rafferty dropped his eyes to the ground, jaw clenched against the urge to storm off.
Should’ve died in that fucking jungle.
The soft whirr of an approaching wheelchair reached him a second before his father rolled into view. “Come sit, son.”
“I should go,” he murmured, barely trusting his voice.
“Just for a while. Please. Beside Esther.”
Essie gave him an encouraging smile, patting the seat.
The meal commenced, and his mother made sure his plate was heaped with food. But his appetite was non-existent, and even the thought of forcing down a single bite made his stomach turn.
Overhead, storm clouds gathered with slow, ominous purpose, dimming the sun. They had maybe an hour before the downpour hit, and everyone knew it. The only sound was the soft clink of silverware against china — delicate, precise. And deafening.
The nerve endings of his skin screamed for relief, and he tugged at the neckline of the lightweight T-shirt, resisting the urge to rip the suffocating layer of cotton from his body. It was the most acute prickling sensation ever, and it took every ounce of energy in him to remain seated.
It was the eyes on him.
The suspicious peeks and curious glances.
The wary looks.
The unspoken scorn.
They viewed him as an oddity. An alien specimen.
Ever distrustful. Watching,waitingfor him to erupt and spew the evil that lurked inside him.
Rafferty lowered his arm, scraping his damp palm over the soft material of his sweatpants. He dug his toes into the grass, trying to anchor his bare feet to the ground. Maybe the earth would open, pull him down into the depths of hell where—
“I’d like to say a few words,” Pa said, voice steady, “before the storm arrives.”
