He sighed, feeling like the world’s biggest ass. She’d picked his unconscious body off the street, hauled him back here safely, obviously had a doctor see to him, and wasn’t standing in his way of leaving even though she didn’t approve. He forced himself to stop and take a breath. If her being worried about him made him uncomfortable, it was his damn problem. Not hers. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. This isn’t exactly the easiest of situations. You’re doing the best you can—we all are.” She motioned to the door, her face a perfect mask of politeness. “There’s a car waiting downstairs. You should go if you’re not going to be late.”
She was right, but he was loath to leave things like they were. He’d hurt her, whether he intended to or not. Teague stopped in front of her. “Thank you, angel. Last night you went above and beyond the call of duty. I wouldn’t have blamed you for leaving my ass where they dropped me.”
Her eyes flashed, the blue extra vivid in her anger. “That’s a downright stupid thing to say, and you damn well know it. I might not have been the one to choose you, but you’re mine, Teague O’Malley, for better or worse.”
He kissed her, the barest brushing of lips, and then he walked out the door, a stupid grin pulling his lips up. Even the throbbing of the left side of his face wasn’t enough to dim the strange joy her words had brought. Because she’d as much as declared her intentions for him. It shouldn’t have been surprising—they were getting married in three short weeks, after all, but there was a world of difference between going through the motions and declaring him hers.
Callie had done the latter.
The entire ride to Our Lady of Victories, he let himself soak that in. She wanted him. He’d known she wanted him physically, but now he knew she wanted him. That was so much easier to focus on than her worry. He relished that snap of anger, the possessiveness of her words.
But when they pulled to a stop, he forced himself to put that small happiness aside. There was business to attend to, and he couldn’t afford to be off his game because he was mooning over his fiancée.
He stepped onto the sidewalk and merged with the small crowd making their way inside. A murmur went up in the people around him, and they stepped back as he climbed the stairs. He was used to getting more than his fair share of attention—most of the parish knew what his family did for money—but his face must have looked worse than he’d thought.
His youngest brother, Devlin, stood at the top of the stone steps, brows raised. “You look like you had an eventful night.”
Trust Devlin to understate things without rushing down to ask if he was okay. “You could call it that.”
“Father isn’t pleased.”
Of that he had no doubt. “Is he ever?”
Devlin fell into step with him as they walked into church. Despite how bittersweet he found attending Mass, Our Lady of Victories was a sort of second home to Teague with its old-world architecture and feel—like stepping into the past. They stopped in the second pew, the one that was designated for the family despite their never officially being assigned seats. But, every Sunday, it was empty and waiting.
Sloan looked up as he slid in next to her, and gasped quietly. Sometimes it seemed like she did everything quietly—a mouse who did her best to stay out of the spotlight of their parents’ attention. She put her hand on his forearm, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?”
“Right as rain.”
“Liar.”
He met her dark eyes, so similar to his own. “I’ll be okay. Promise.”
“You can’t promise that, and you know it.” She sat back and stared forward, her eyes shining in a way he was all too familiar with. He wanted to say or do something to comfort her, but she was right—he couldn’t promise shit.
It seemed like he was destined to piss off and upset every woman he cared about that he came in contact with today.
He sighed, grateful when the priest began speaking. With the ease of long practice, he intoned the words and fell into the old familiar motions. Sloan had always been the most sensitive of his siblings, and he hated causing her any kind of pain, but he was stuck. Fuck, he was up to his neck and sinking fast. He wasn’t even aware that Devlin was moving until he slipped behind Teague and nudged him to the end of the aisle. He wrapped his arm around their sister, leaning down to murmur something in her ear.
Devlin was the best of them all.
He’d thought it before, but it only became clearer as time went on. His youngest brother always knew what to say or do to defuse a situation or comfort someone who was upset. Teague should have thought that maybe Sloan needed a shoulder to lean on, even if he couldn’t say the words that would make everything okay. But he hadn’t. It hadn’t even crossed his mind.