Page 83 of Beyond Protection
Ma.
I didn't let go of Eamon's hand. Didn't step back. Instead, I turned and met my aunt's eyes.
She wiped her face with a tissue she'd pulled from her coat pocket—the same pocket where she kept emergency Band-Aidsand butterscotch candies and the rosary she claimed she didn't pray with anymore.
"Don't look at me like that," she said. Her voice came out rough. "The wind's terrible out here."
There was no wind. Just her, crying over her nephew kissing a man on a Christmas boat, the same way she'd cried at my father's funeral and my first Little League game and the day I came out on national television.
She cried when the people she loved did something brave.
Michael stood behind her, grinning. He raised his beer in a silent salute—about damn time.
Claire, my mother, had turned from the bow. Her camera hung forgotten. She looked at me the way she did when I finally threw a pot without it collapsing. Pride mixed with relief.
Her lips formed one word.Finally.
This was it. Being seen by the people who'd known me before I learned to perform. Who remembered the kid who burned pancakes and cried when his dad died.
They were seeing me again. Not performing. Not calculating optics or managing narratives.
Just being.
"Think we just made family history," I murmured.
Eamon's mouth was close to my ear. "As long as it's not breaking news."
I laughed.
Ma stuffed the tissue away. "You boys want cocoa?"
"We're good, Ma."
"I'm getting you cocoa anyway."
She disappeared toward the concession stand.
Michael drifted closer. "So. That was really sweet, actually."
The boat turned toward the north shore. Mansions climbed the hills in layers of lit windows.
I should've been paying attention to the family gathering close and the city glowing behind us.
Instead, I was watching Eamon.
His jaw was tense and his eyes alert. He tracked something over my shoulder.
His hand slipped from mine.
"What?" I asked.
"Woman. Gray coat. Near the bar."
I turned.
Too many people. Too much movement. Then I saw her—mid-thirties, slim build, phone raised as if she were filming the shoreline.
Except, she angled her phone at us.
