Restless, p.2
Restless, page 2
Mom grabs my hand, and we rush out of his office. We stomp further down the hall, where it’s obvious they keep their prisoners.
I see Rian, Colin, Tiernan, and Eoghan, but no Finn, which sends me into another panic.
I rush to them, and the officer guarding them observes me skeptically.
"Release them, now," I demand, which gets me an odd look from Rian. Then, the corner of his lips turns up into an almost grateful smile. Almost.
The officer gives me a slight chuckle of disbelief, dipped in amusement, but doesn't move.
"Did I stutter, Officer Fucknut? I said, Release them now!" I repeat, the maliciousness in my tone cannot be denied.
"Do as she says, Officer Callan," the Chief of Police says from behind us; the struggle in his voice can’t be denied as well.
"But, sir—" the confused officer begins, but is quickly cut short by his boss.
"That's an order, Officer Roberts. They are to be released, effective immediately. Mrs. Gray has provided them with an alibi. The investigation needs to continue in a different direction," he provides.
With a quick, disapproving shake of his head, the officer yanks the keys out of his pocket. He grabs Colin roughly by the arm, jerking him to his feet. Although Colin hides it, I can tell the rough action is painful.
“Gimme those, Officer Fucknut,” I snarl at the asshole and snatch the keys out of his hands.
I turn and begin unlocking Colin when a low and ominous growl rumbles from Tiernan. “Take one more step in her direction, and that will be the last one you take without a limp.” I follow his gaze over my shoulder, in the direction of Tiernan’s warning, and see the officer closer than where I left him. He must have moved toward me. Now he’s standing there, nostrils flaring but doing as told.
I slide the key into Rian’s cuffs, "Where's Finn?" I demand.
"They took him to an interrogation room ten minutes ago," Rian reveals while rubbing his free wrists and nodding toward the hall on our right.
"Come on, Mom," I say after swiftly unlocking the rest.
She follows my quick gait, and we make it past three empty interrogation rooms before we arrive at a full-sized two-way mirror lining the wall.
Finn sits at the table, agitation clearly etched on his features. His wrists are cuffed, and his fists clenched. Officer Dickhead and Officer Kinda Nice sit on the other side of the table, a file splayed open on the tattered wood surface.
"I mean, we get it," the nice officer soothes. "The entire force knows how much of a piece of shit Martin Gray is. It killed every cop in this station when we had to let him go. How fucked up does a guy have to be to want to rape his ten-year-old niece?"
Ahhhhh, they're talking about me. That's why Finn looks pissed.
“Then, why didn’t you arrest him?” I barely hear the rumble of Finn’s low words, as I don’t think he meant to voice his thoughts. The officer pretends that he doesn’t hear him.
"Francine, isn't it?" Officer Dickhead presses as he tosses a picture in front of Finn.
A picture of what?
Whatever the image is, it enrages Finn even more. There’s no hiding the red fury creeping up his neck.
The officer taps his stubby finger twice on the table. "I remember when she came here. She was covered in bruises, chunks of hair ripped out, and both of her wrists were sprained."
Oh. My. God.
I know what they're doing. Their interrogation tactic is absolutely despicable.
They're using my nightmare as a weapon against him, and it's working.
Rage has my fist pounding against the window, drawing the room’s occupants to the shaking glass. I sidestep to the door and shove it open, all eyes flashing at me.
Officer Dickwad huffs, "What is she doing in here? Who the hell let you back here?"
I confidently charge in. "Uncuff him," I demand, my mom right behind me, and I can almost feel anger permeating off her in waves.
"Now," my mom sneers.
Finn stares at us in confusion, his icy blues narrowed.
"He's been cleared, gentlemen," the Chief of Police angles in from behind us before gesturing to Finn. “Would you like to do the honors?” he asks me, motioning to Finn’s hands.
"Cleared?" Officer Dickwad explodes.
I hurry to Finn and unlock his shackles.
"This is above your pay grade," the Chief answers with irritation.
Finn stands and kicks the plastic chair away to make room to distance himself from the table. I grab his hand as soon as possible.
"Let’s go, guys," my mom mutters before shooting daggers at the Chief. "Don't let this happen again, Mark."
We turn to leave, but the Chief decides to demonstrate that he’s the biggest dickhead of all the officers I've encountered to date.
He crosses his arms with a snide smirk distorting his face. "He did a real number on you, Beth. All these years later, and you're still his little bitch. Does he still toss you around to his buddies like their little Bastard whore?" the Chief spits out.
Toss her around? What the fuck is he talking about?
My mother halts her steps, but it’s not because she freezes up. No, that would be a normal reaction to such an insult, but I've come to realize my mom isn't normal.
She stills so she doesn’t have to waste any steps getting back to him when she slaps his stupid face. The loud smack bounces off the gray cement walls. It’s a lovely tune. Fire burns in her green eyes as she scowls at him.
"Go. Fuck. Yourself. I'm no one's bitch, and for your information, the only people who fucked me were the ones I wanted. That doesn’t make me anyone’s whore, fuckface."
You tell him, Mom!
"Aren't you going to arrest her? She assaulted a police official!" Officer Dickwad sputters.
Maybe I’m high off of my newfound power, or maybe I’m a cunt, but I can’t help getting the last word in before we exit this hellhole. "Haven't you heard? If you’re associated with a Gray, you can't be touched. Your boss should be smart enough to know not to fuck with us," I sneer before leading Finn away.
I expect Finn to say something, but all he does is throw his arm around my shoulder as we make our way to the front, where everyone else is waiting.
Including Sorcha and Finn's dad.
Nigel O'Reilly in the flesh.
***
I've been in a lot of awkward situations in my life, but this has to be the most awkward of them all. There’s so much awkwardness going on here I list them in my head.
I busted into a jail and uncuffed my not-boyfriend and his friends... with my mom.
The crowded waiting room is full of people trying to accomplish mundane things such as parking tickets and paying fees. However, when my posse of heathens emerges from the back, it draws all the people’s attention. The way their jaws drop at our appearance, they know we weren’t delivering donuts to our civil servants.
My man’s father, whom I’ve never met, is one of those bystanders who sees me and his son appear from the back of the police station I sprung his son from.
After two decades, my mom came face to face with her high school sweetheart...
...who happens to be the father of my man. Apparently, the Mercer women have a type.
I can see how she knew exactly who Finn was when she first met him. Finn is the spitting image of his father. Icy blue eyes, light skin, black wavy hair, a strong jawline, and a slightly crooked nose make up Nigel's features and most of his son’s. Soft wrinkles around his eyes show his age.
He stands among the visitors. If it weren’t for his likeness to Finn, I’d still know he’s Finn’s father by the look on his face. He’s the only one who doesn’t look surprised. He seems more like he’s seething with anger but also with concern. "Beth," he greets my mom, who seems to have the color drained from her the instant she sees him.
His voice is the oddest thing I’ve ever heard. I’d say he talks like a normal Texan, but every few words, the hint of an Irish accent pokes through. It’s calming.
She clears her throat. "Hello, Nigel," she responds, but it's flat and guarded.
There are a few moments of awkward silence. I guess we all were expecting more from their interaction. Maybe an It's been a long time! or a How have you been? But no pleasantries follow their curt greeting.
His father is silent, and yet his eyes say a thousand words. It’s like a black-and-white film reel where scenes flicker by. There's anger, heartbreak, longing, and perhaps even resentment. But there's no doubt that he's missed her. Whatever they once had, it's never left him, like it hasn't left her.
It's sad and sweet.
My mom made the ultimate sacrifice to protect him long ago. She signed away the life she wanted and sunk herself into nearly two decades of misery for him.
"You good, son?" Nigel asks as he moves his gaze from my mom to Finn.
"Good as gravy," Finn answers, pulling me closer into him.
"Good... good.” Nigel shoves his hands into his worn, jean pockets. “I need to get back to work. If any of you boys need a ride, come with me." With that, everyone but Finn follows Nigel as he strolls past us, his face expressing a feeling I didn’t expect from him.
It's not the look young women like me get from dirty older men thinking with their dicks. No, it's confusion I see in his eyes. He doesn't know what to make of me or what the hell I'm doing here with Finn.
I don't have the slightest inclination as to why. He doesn't know me—probably doesn't even know my name—yet he stares at me as if I'm a significant piece to the puzzle he's missing. It must be clear that I’m the daughter of Bethany Mercer since I look identical to her, but there’s some piece he’s trying to put in its place where I’m concerned. My gaze follows him as he leaves, trying to figure him out as well.
What the fuck is his problem?
"Come on. Let's go," my mom mutters, her voice sounding drained.
We make the short trek to my car, where I get in the back seat with Finn. He pulls me into his arms and hugs me close to him, pressing a line of soft kisses across my forehead.
I thought his silence meant he was mad at me, but his sweet gesture of affection says otherwise. He's not upset—maybe overwhelmed or stressed. He's not mad at me for disobeying him and getting him out of jail instead of going to class. I’ll probably get a red ass later, though.
He doesn’t like it when I ignore his commands. I use it as a bit of foreplay most of the time, but that's not what this was. This was about protecting him.
He pulls away once my mom gets in the car, but I hold him close, breathing in his scent of musk and tobacco. No one says a word as she drives us out of the parking lot, away from this horrible day.
***
My mom decides to drive back to our house instead of straight to school. I don’t know if our destination was even a conscious choice. She seems so out of it. I'm worried about her mental state. She's never this quiet.
It's like we've been transported back to the day before she left. She was on autopilot then, too. Now that I think about it... she was on autopilot like that from the day that Martin attacked me onward.
It’s like she was... on something or what I can only assume that actually looks like on her. She said she went to rehab, which means drugs and alcohol. I’m still uncertain if I believe her story. Something isn’t right about it and that has me constantly on edge.
Is she thinking of leaving again? She promised me she wasn't going anywhere. That promise was before we ran into her high school sweetheart. Did seeing Nigel change that?
I can't lose my mom.
We maneuver out of the car, and my mom takes us by surprise when she throws her arms around Finn, giving him a huge hug. His body stiffens, and it takes him a moment to realize what’s happening before he awkwardly pats her back.
"Thank you," she says as she pulls away, the reminiscence of tears lingering in her eyes.
"For what?" Finn asks, confused.
I don’t need any more words. I know why she says this. She doesn't know exactly what happened with Martin, but she knows Finn has some involvement and that he kept his mouth shut to protect me.
She doesn't answer him, just pulls her arms away and wraps them around me in an emotional hug.
"I love you," she whispers in my ear. "No matter what. You hear me?"
"Yeah. I love you, too, Mom." It takes everything in me not to cry. She doesn't care what horrific thing I did to my uncle. All she cares about is making sure I know that she loves me. "Are you okay?" I ask as she pulls away.
"I should be asking you that,” a half-hearted chuckle escapes her lips. “I'm fine. Just drained. You two head back to school," she says, but then catches some emotion on my face. She pinches my chin between her thumb and pointer finger, gently shaking my head. She knows I'm worried that she'll run away. She locks me in her gaze of green. In their depths, she reveals she has no plans of ever leaving.
"Okay." I give her a wobbly smile.
My mom gives me one last shake of my chin before she turns and disappears into the house, closing the door behind her.
Finn pulls me into his chest. "Give me the keys," he utters, his voice hoarse.
His words surprise me. "Why?" I ask with a furrowed brow.
He smooths the wrinkles in my forehead with the pad of a finger. "We're not going back to school. I want to show you something," he says, not explaining further.
I trust Finn. He's a good driver, and I know he would never take me somewhere he doesn't think is safe.
I hand him the keys without a second thought and get in the car.
***
We're not in Grove Hill anymore. I know that much. Wherever Finn has taken me isn't Houston, but somewhere close by with a similar feel to that of our hometown.
We drive into a middle-class neighborhood, passing streets of quaint family homes with young children playing on the sidewalks with their parents and old couples walking down the streets.
He turns into a single parking spot at the end of a bridge that overlooks a bayou leading through the neighborhood.
"Where are we?" I ask.
He shifts and hands me the keys. "Where I grew up." Then, he climbs out.
Where he grew up? I thought he grew up in Grove Hill?
I thought the whole reason we met ten years ago was because we lived in the same town.
I tentatively climb out of the car, and he takes my hand, guiding me across the street to an open field spanning a good twenty acres. A sea of lush, vibrant kelly green grass ripples before us with a few oak trees to create shade.
I pictured this whole visual scene in my head. It's like a backdrop of a Hallmark movie. The town bad boy who is good only for his lady love takes her to where he grew up and brings her to a special, romantic field after a stressful day of drama.
Yup. Sounds like a movie to me.
“You grew up in a field?” I ask with a smirk.
He raises an eyebrow at me, his lips holding a smirk of his own. “Smart ass.”
We trek through the velvet carpet of green until we arrive at the first tree. Its reach is at least twenty feet into the sky, the massive canopy of leafy branches creating shade. The soothing melody created by the birds that live here is welcoming and calming.
I swivel my head from side to side, not wanting to miss anything of this gorgeous landscape. "This place is beautiful. I can't believe you grew up here," I say as Finn sits us under the tree. He with his back against the trunk and me cross-legged beside him.
His eyes shift to me, and I see uncertainty in his icy blues. I wonder why he's looking at me like that until he speaks.
"My mom and dad were never a couple," he admits. "I was a drunken one-night stand. They met at a bar in Grove Hill; my mom went there with some friends. My mom wasn’t from there, so it took her a while to track my dad down. She wasn't able to track him down until she was through her pregnancy with me.” He pauses, then juts his chin slightly to the right. “We lived right around the corner from here," he reveals.
He's telling me about his mom. I don't know why I never thought to ask about her. A mom is an important person in anyone's life, but the thought never occurred to ask why no one ever mentioned his. Maybe it’s because I was always wrapped up in my own Mom issues that I never wanted to hear about anyone else’s. Also, everyone talks about his dad, but never the woman who gave birth to him.
"You lived this far away? When did you move to Grove Hill?"
His strong hand that was mindlessly petting the grass as if it were a cherished family pet stilled at my question. His eyes, which seemed to be focused on the landscape before him, lose their concentration, and shadows form underneath them, dulling the color.
"When I was ten—right before you and I met." His voice is low and measured, his words pretty benign, but there’s a hidden emotion that he can’t hide very well. "When she died, I moved in with my dad.”
His admission stuns me.
Is this why no one ever mentions his mom? I’m unsure how to proceed, but Finn’s the one who brought her up, so I break through any uncertainty and ask. "Was she sick?"
The darkness in his aura confirms otherwise. "No." That word is sharp and yet soft at the same time, portraying anger behind it but anger that isn’t directed at me. He wipes his hand down his face, stress clear in the muscles bunching in his arms. "Car accident. I should've died, too, but I didn't. I didn't have a scratch on me. It's a mystery as to why. My grandmother said it was divine intervention. I always thought that comment was fucked up. Her daughter is dead, and yet she thanks God for being merciful." The guilt that plays on his face is powerful and unyielding.
My heart rate quickens, but I battle to maintain composure. There is one thing that terrifies me about his tale. I feel horrible about him losing his mom, but what really affects me is that he could've died.
He said it was shortly before we met. Our fates were dependent upon his mother’s death. I never would've known Finnick O'Reilly. I would've lived my life without having my dark prince. His memory wouldn't have been the constant light in the dreariness of my childhood. There would have been no opportunity to make a bet with him or give him my virginity.
