Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

FINNIGAN

“I’m sorry.” Catlin places a kiss on her uncle’s cheek. Lowering from her tiptoes to her heels, she stares at him and lightly cries, “I’m sorry your hatred for him is greater than your love for me.”

Crossing the altar, Catlin slips her hand back into mine, and I give it a reassuring squeeze. Tenderly, I slip my finger under her chin, tipping her face toward mine. “Go get your bag and your phone from upstairs, piscín. I’ll be right behind you.”

I had a brief moment of doubt that she would allow him to make this choice for her— as he has with nearly every decision about her life —when her dainty hand slid from mine. That crushing fear flittered away the second she glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes telling me everything I needed to know.

She will choose me.

Always.

My name is tattooed across her heart as deeply as hers is over mine. She could relive this moment in a thousand lifetimes and still choose me. I give her something that he never could… I love her for who she is and provide her with the freedom to grow as she sees fit. She doesn’t have to hide her fears and desires from me because I willingly accept them all, shouldering some of the burden I know she feels. I want her to flourish into the gorgeous creature she was meant to be. In choosing us, she’s finally choosing herself .

And I’m so fucking proud of her.

“I told you not to make her choose.” I huff, shaking my head at Father O’Flaherty once Catlin is out of earshot. “Either option was going to break her heart.”

Still floored by her decision, he has no retort or snide remark about her. Or me. When I walk to the aisle, I pause for a second and turn back to him. “I hope we both see you soon, for Catlin’s sake.”

By the time I make my way down the long aisle, Catlin is traversing the last of the stairs. She glances toward the doorway leading into the nave when she reaches the bottom step and sniffles as she half-heartedly jokes, “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“No. I very politely let him know he’s a fucking idiot.” Cupping her face as she reaches me, I place a soft kiss against her lips and whisper, “Let’s get you home, piscín .”

Home.

Our home.

She’s quiet as I lead her from the church and around the block to where I parked my bike. “It’ll be okay,” I promise, pulling the helmet over her head and doing the strap. The big white helmet bobs as she nods, her eyes still pained and teary as I close the visor.

I fucking hate seeing her like this.

I nod at the guys watching the church, silently letting them know they don’t need to follow and that I’ve got Cat. Owen discreetly lifts and lightly shakes his phone, urging me to read the messages incessantly vibrating over the last few minutes. Pulling it from the back pocket of my pants, I quickly key in my code to read his message.

OWEN

The same black SUV has passed the church four times this past hour

Slowing each time at your bike and the entrance

Definitely Bratva behind the wheel

“Is something wrong?” Cat’s concerned voice is muffled by her helmet.

“Just letting my brothers know I can’t help them tonight.” I omit the truth as I send them a message. I’ll inform her about the Bratva threats later. She’s dealing with enough right now. Adding them to things definitely isn’t going to make this any easier.

Bratva is on to Our Lady of Grace

I have Cat. Taking her to my place for good.

Swiping back to Owen’s message, I send a quick reply before shoving my phone back into my pocket and climbing onto the bike.

Keep an eye on the church and Father O’Flaherty.

Catlin clings to me tightly as we ride through the city. I wish I’d been in a car so that I could comfort her more than a meager squeeze of her thigh at traffic lights. Reaching the garage to my building, I pull into a spot beside my Bronco and take Cat’s hand to help her dismount. Cat fumbles with the strap of her helmet, so I reach under her chin to help. Pulling it from her, I notice that while her eyes are still red, her tears have subsided.

We walk from the garage to my— our— apartment with our fingers intertwined. This isn’t how I wanted to start this chapter of our lives together, but a selfish part of me is really fucking happy to know that I’m going to have her in my bed each and every night.

Leading her through the apartment, I pull her toward the leather couch and into my lap as I sit. She curls her legs and nestles her face against my chest. Holding her in silence, I stroke her hair and give her a little time to process everything she’s feeling. Her fingers dust over my chest, and her voice is soft when she finally speaks. “Finn…”

“Yes, piscín ?”

“I love you,” she whispers. “Your life, it doesn’t scare me.”

“I love you.” Wrapping my arms tighter around her, I kiss her forehead and whisper to myself, “It should.”

As I run my fingers along the bare skin of her arm, I glance down and notice the fresh bruises marring her usually perfect porcelain skin. I must’ve grabbed her harder than I thought at the church. “Did I hurt you?” I ask, lightly rubbing over her tender skin.