Page 30 of Blood in the Water

Bridget recoiled from her mother’s anger. “Of course.” There was nothing wrong with Owen’s mind. Treating him as anything other than a perfectly cognizant human being would be an affront to his still-sharp intellect. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“I blame myself,” her mother said, throwing a pair of sweatpants angrily into the suitcase.

“Don’t say that. This mess has nothing to do with you. I got us here.”

Her mother sat down on the bed. “You did it for Owen. I know that. I just… I’m angry that it came to this. That you were put in this position. That we were put in this position. That Owen is suffering.” Tears spilled onto her mother’s cheeks and her voice caught on a sob. “I’m just so fucking angry, Bridget. At everything.”

Bridget sank to her knees at her mother’s feet, put her head in her mother’s lap, and hugged her legs. Her mother never, ever lost control, hadn’t broken down once since Owen was first diagnosed. She bore the burden of his carewith strength and grace, refusing to admit that it was taking its toll on her, refusing to talk about how hard it all was.

“You have every right to be angry,” Bridget said as tears leaked onto her mother’s jeans. “At me, at God, at the shitty kind of fate that would do this to someone like Owen. I’m just sorry I made it worse.”

“Oh, love…” Her mother tipped Bridget’s chin until she was looking up at her. “You have never made anything worse. Owen wouldn’t be as well as he is without the treatment and medications you’ve helped fund. For all we know, he wouldn’t be here at all. I’m just sorry it came at such a terrible cost to you.”

“I would do it again.” She meant it. Working for Seamus had always been a risk, but it had kept Owen alive and comfortable. What would have been the alternative? Letting him suffer? Letting him die because they didn’t have the money to pay for treatments that weren’t covered by their insurance?

She would work for Seamus a thousand times before she would do that.

Her mom tucked a piece of Bridget’s hair behind her ear. “Is Nolan the reason you’ve been coming home late? Or early as it were?”

Bridget nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. So much was happening. I didn’t know where to start.”

“He loves you,” her mother said.

Bridget nodded. “I love him too.”

“Does he know why you broke up with him all those years ago?” her mom asked.

Bridget studied her mother’s face. “Do you?”

“I have an idea.” Bridget had always wondered if the money she’d contributed to Owen’s medical expenses had been believable as coming from her BRIC salary. She’d beencareful — giving it to her parents when they needed it for something specific, when there was nowhere else to get it. She’d claimed it came from her savings, but it was a lot of money, even spread out as it had been. Coinciding with her breakup from Nolan, she shouldn’t have been surprised that her mother would put two and two together. “That bitch,” her mom added.

Bridget blinked in surprise. Her mother rarely cursed, and even when she did, it was half-hearted, softened by the remnants of her Irish accent.

“She was just looking out for Nolan,” Bridget said.

Her mom cupped Bridget’s cheek in her hand. “Anyone who doesn’t think you’re good enough for her son isn’t looking out for him. And she must be blind, deaf, and dumb too.”

Bridget laughed. “You might be a little bit biased.”

“Nonsense. You’re perfect, and Nolan Burke's smart enough to know it. He’ll understand when you tell him — but you do have to tell him.”

“I know.”

For the first time, she thought she might actually be able to do it. She’d spent the last few years practically holding her breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop with Seamus. Now that it had happened, she was almost relieved to have everything out in the open.

It made her want to finish the job. To come clean, tell Nolan the truth about their breakup, lay it all on the table and let the chips fall where they may.

Soon. The minute the situation with Seamus and the Syndicate was stabilized and her family was safe.

She would tell him. She would.

17

Twelve hours after Nolan had arrived at Bridget’s house, he stepped onto the deck off the house on Gerald Island, one of the Elizabeth Islands that sat off the coast of Cape Cod.

As cold as it was in Boston, it was ten degrees colder near the water, and he hunched down into his jacket as he stood at the railing, breathing in the moist, salty air and listening to the rhythmic rush of waves on the private beach just a few feet away.

He would have liked to take the Monaghans somewhere warm, but there was no way to guarantee the security they needed in an unfamiliar place on such short notice. The house on Gerald Island — in fact, the entire island — had been purchased by his father when he’d married Nolan’s mother.