Chapter 22

TWENTY-TWO

Bev leaned around Aidan's side, staring into the potato pot he was dumping more cabbage into. "What exactly is that?"

"Colcannon," he replied, his accent thicker. It was impossible not to unfurl the brogue on the name of the dish he'd heard spoken, had watched made more times than he could count, the Irish staple his father's favorite.

Bev's not so much, judging by the way she wrinkled her nose. "Why can't we just have potatoes?"

Aidan gave her the same excuse his parents had given him and his siblings whenever they'd protested. "The cabbage makes them healthier for you."

"Marginally," Jamie called from the balcony where he had a chicken on the grill.

"You almost done, traitor?" Aidan called back, as he continued to mash potatoes and cabbage into the simmering cream, garlic, and leeks.

"Five minutes or so, dear."

Smiling, Aidan glanced up in time to see Angel step beside Jamie, tablet in hand. "Can we make this mod? "

"Good idea," Jamie said with a nod. "Make it lighter and faster."

"That was my thought."

"Yeah, I think we can do that."

"Cool." Angel went back to tapping the tablet screen as he sank onto the outdoor sofa beside his mother.

Aidan, however, was stuck back on Angel's "we." He couldn't help but smile wider at the implication, whether it was intentional or not.

"I see you," Bev sing-songed as she moved around the kitchen, pulling plates out of the cabinets and silverware from the drawers.

He let his smile grow wider; no use hiding it. "I missed him."

"He missed you too. He also misses having family around."

"So he made one at school?" Aidan asked, recalling his and Jamie's conversation with Izzy yesterday.

"Yeah, he did, but when he started hanging out with me, some of his friends ghosted him. Thought we were together, and so he wasn't ‘really gay.'" Aidan expected her to roll her eyes at the ignorance of their friends, but instead, she rested back against the island, chin lowered. "I feel bad about it."

"Angel made his choice." Aidan set aside the potato masher and dipped his own chin low enough to catch her gaze. "And so far, it seems like a good one to me."

She glanced up at him through her lashes, and there was the spark of rebel he expected. "Except that whole theft and speeding thing." She cut her glare outside to where Angel was at Jamie's side, excitedly asking about another engine mod. "That's not gonna help the speeding," she said .

Aidan laughed. "Probably not." He slid a spoon from Bev's grip and dipped it into the potato pot. "Try it," he said, offering her the spoon in exchange for the plates. Aidan wished he'd recorded the reactions that played across her face. From maybe-not-so-bad to eww-why to I-found-another-bit-of-buttery-goodness.

"It's not as bad as I expected," she admitted. "But the slimy cabbage is gonna take some getting used to."

Aidan liked the sound of that as much as he liked Angel's "we." Both kids were assuming Aidan and Jamie would remain in their lives after this case was over, which was more than Aidan dared hope for, more than he would've thought possible if you'd asked him Saturday how things would go. Letting his smile loose again, he pitched the spoon in the sink and grabbed a serving bowl for the potatoes while Bev set the table. Expertly. Not something Aidan could imagine her doing at Deidra's. A foster before, or her parents, maybe? Or was this another Internet thing? In any event, not his place to ask something that personal. Yet. He kept things more general, for now. "How are you doing with everything?" he asked. "Feeling less damsel-like?"

"Gucci, for now." She came back to the kitchen for the spoon she was short. "I'm sure it'll all hit in a few days, but right now, it's kind of surreal. To get out of that place and land at a boujee one like this." She waved the utensil in the air, gesturing around them. "And you and Jamie seem like decent folk, even if you both work too much."

"Not gonna deny that," he said, acknowledging her correct perception about them. "And Bev..." He waited for her to glance up before he acknowledged the likely correct prediction she'd also made about herself. "When it does hit, talk to one of us, or to Izzy, or to your new social worker."

"I trust y'all more than I do him," she said as she rose on her tiptoes to grab glasses out of the cabinet over the microwave.

She managed to get down four, and Aidan grabbed the fifth. "Jamie's running background checks. Rooster too."

"He so looks like a Rooster. Not as mean as I thought one would be, but the hair and the suit and the strut." She mimicked the prosecutor's walk as she carried the glasses to the table, and Aidan laughed out loud, drawing Jamie's attention.

Y'all good? he mouthed. His blue eyes sparkled under the balcony string lights, and his smile was wide and easy. Despite the chaos still circling around them, he was helping to center them all, insisting on a "family" dinner at the home they were borrowing tonight.

Better than , he mouthed back with a wink.

Bev groaned. "How long have y'all been married?"

"Five years, very happily. And that's twice you've used y'all," he said to Bev as he carried the potatoes over to the table. "But there's no accent when you say it."

"I like it. It's more gender neutral."

"Agree, but most folks have to train themselves to use it." Aidan would often notice a pause, no matter how short, as a person mentally made the switch before saying it. Granted, kids adapted to changes in language and customs more quickly than adults, but Aidan didn't think that was all here. "It comes more naturally to you, like it does Jamie, who grew up in North Carolina."

Bev lowered herself into one of the dining room chairs, quiet, and Aidan immediately regretted the topic, realizing maybe this was a step too far. "Bev, you don't have to?—"

"My mom was from Georgia," she said as she tumbled the small butter knife through her fingers, her voice muted. "Dad was from California. I grew up out here, but certain words of hers stuck."

That was more of her past than she owed any of them at this point, and Aidan didn't want to linger there either, especially when it so clearly darkened her mood. Catching a whiff of the potatoes, he knew the perfect segue to cheer her up. "My brother Danny is like that," he said. "I was twelve when we moved from Ireland to California, but he was just a toddler. He grew up here, but being around us and our parents, he uses certain words and pronounces them no way a native Californian would."

Curiosity brightened her big brown eyes. "Like what?"

Grinning, he withdrew his phone and dialed his brother.

"Hey, big bro," Danny answered, practically shouting over shipyard noises in the background. "I'll be there Thursday morning."

"Good," Aidan said. "But I wasn't calling about that. Need you to do me a quick favor."

"What?"

"What's Dad's favorite dish?"

"Colcannon," he answered immediately, a touch of the brogue in his voice that was rarely ever there.

Bev laughed, eyes wide. "No fucking way. Say it again."

"Colcannon."

"That's wild."

Across the table, Aidan laughed, and when Danny spoke, he could hear the smile in his brother's voice too. "You're making fun of me, aren't you? "

"Just a demonstration on accents," Aidan said. "Love you, baby bro."

"Love you too. See you tomorrow. Gotta run." The tail end of his sign-off was muffled by a blasting foghorn, which he thankfully silenced by ending the call.

"Your family's tight?" She could have simply made the observation, as most folks did. The Talleys didn't hide their affections for one another; they'd learned not to when the Troubles had stolen their oldest sibling. But Bev had phrased her observation as a question, one Aidan sensed was part curiosity, part caution.

"Yes, we're close," he said. "But not to the exclusion of new family members." He held her gaze that came alive with hope. "We have a way of collecting strays. Ask Danny's wife or Jamie's or my best friends sometime."

Her small nod felt like one of Aidan's greatest victories.

Another of those victories walked through the balcony door with a piping hot bird teetering on a beer can surrounded by vegetables in the cast iron skillet he carried between mitts.

Angel was on his heels, heaving a beleaguered "Finally," which earned him a shoulder swat from his mother.

"You act like I don't feed you," she said.

Aidan knew that not to be true now, even if the thought had crossed his mind early on, given Angel's baggy clothes and lanky frame. The latter was just biology—the boy had eaten regularly each day, not like he was starving, not like he was forcing himself—and the former just seemed to be his preference.

Angel plopped into the chair beside Bev, Izzy the chair on the other side of her. Her light brown eyes glanced up at Aidan, and before the words were out, Aidan knew what she was going to say. Her "You couldn't just make regular potatoes?" was muffled by laughter as he tossed a dishtowel across the table at her.

"That's what I said!" Bev concurred, and that earned her a balled-up napkin, everyone laughing louder.

Jamie appeared beside Aidan, veggies in a bowl he set on the table. "I'll eat your cabbage potatoes, baby." He kissed his cheek, then rotated back to the island to finish breaking down the chicken. "Any word from Matt or Rick?" he asked when Aidan joined him.

Aidan shook his head. "Maybe the traffic to County was bad." At his arraignment today, White had been remanded to County lockup. Matt and Rick were headed there this evening to question him about Pudge, the Martinos, and whomever else he was working with.

Jamie finished with the chicken and brought the platter of crispy-skinned goodness to the table. They'd all just finished cleaning their plates, Aidan chewing through his last juicy bite, when a knock sounded at the door.

Jamie started to rise, but Aidan beat him to it, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Stay, I've got it. Ask Izzy about the first time she tried colcannon."

Translation: Keep them distracted.

Jamie read him loud and clear, his "I gotta hear this" instantly engaging.

Aidan didn't have time to retrieve his weapon from the home office safe, nor would he want to with the kids in the room, so as discreetly as possible, he palmed the knife Jamie had used to slice the chicken, holding it up against his forearm as he made his way to the door and checked the peephole.

Matt stood directly outside the door, Rick and Berat in the background behind him. He laid the knife on the foyer table, then slipped outside, concern ratcheting up at seeing Ward there too. "I thought we gave you the night off."

"He's back on the kids and Izzy," Matt said. "Twenty-four seven."

"Why's that?" Aidan asked, certain whatever news they were here to deliver couldn't be good.

"Darien and Deidra White are dead."