Page 25 of Bloody Union

My cell rings and I glance down at the screen. Dad is calling.

“Hey, Da, everything okay?”

“That was my line,” He grumbles. “We’re all fine, we wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“I’m fine, Da, honest.”

“Good, your uncle’s here, and wants to talk to you.” My da isn’t much of a talker when others are around. Killian arrived late, he was supposed to be here a few days ago in time for the wedding, but he’s only just arrived.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, are we still on for Sunday?”

“Yes, and don’t think you can come up with any bullshit excuses.”

I smile, “I won’t. Promise.”

“Okay, Kenna, I’ll talk to you later,” he says and I wait until he passes the phone to Killian.

“Hey, kiddo, heard about yesterday.”

I roll my eyes, he’s the only one that calls me kiddo. “Yep, guess you were right.”

He coughs, “I’m sorry, can you say that again?”

“No, fuck off, I’m not repeating myself. Your head is big enough as it is, I do not need to stroke your damn ego.” I’m unable to keep the smile off of my face. That’s one of the many things that I love about Killian, he knows how to cheer me up, even if it’s by annoying the hell out of me.

“What was I right about?”

“That marrying the Italian would lead to a bloody wedding.”

I hear a growl just as Killian laughs, glancing up I see Dante, Romero, and Alessio standing in the doorway looking at me.

“You never listen to me, Kenna.”

I roll my eyes, “Hey, you’re going on speaker.” I wave them in, seeing as they’re standing there and have no intentions of moving.

He grunts, “Is that Italian asshole there now?”

“Jesus Christ,” I sigh, why does my family have to have so much hatred for the Italians?

“Makenna Gallagher, do not take the Lord's name in vain.” Killain tries to sound stern but it doesn’t work.

“God help me,” I mutter. “Killian, no matter how hard you try, you and the Lord aren’t ever going to be on good terms.”

He scoffs, “You don’t know that.”

“When was the last time you went to confession?” His silence is enough of an answer for me. “Probably before I was born.”

“Oh and tell me, wise one, when was the last time you confessed your sins?”

“Last week,” I say with a smile.

“Fucking goody-two-shoes.”

“Jealous much? Anyway, you wanted to talk to me?”

“Are you in a rush?” His voice is full of amusement, he’s bored, and just wanting someone to annoy.

“Yes, I’m starving and I’m about to have breakfast. So what do you want?”