I take back what I said before. Apparently Declan still possesses the ability to make me cringe.
“So,” he pushes a glass of whiskey my way, “about time you stopped by to say a proper hello.”
I ignore the glass and shake my head. “I’m not here to catch up, Declan.”
He grins. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure of your sour company, kid?”
I stand, pointing at him across the table. “You need to keep away from me and that family”
He snorts. “Sit, drink.”
“No thanks.”
“It wasn’t an offer.”
He nods at the glass he’s pushed my way before he raises his own glass.
I narrow my eyes at him before I sit, taking up the glass.
“Slainte,” he says, using the Irish-Gaelic term.
“Cheers,” I murmur before we both slug back the whiskey It’s sweet, and it burns.
And I shouldn’t be here, sitting at Declan McCreedy’s fucking table drinking whiskey with him.
“So are you joining us for dinner, Silas?” Stephanie asks from across the kitchen.
“He’s fine,” Declan says quietly.
“No, thank you, Steph.”
My uncle turns to her. “Give us a few, wouldn’t you dear?”
She smiles again at me. “Good to see you, Silas! I’d love to hear about Africa sometime!” She leaves.
“So, gonna congratulate me?”
I frown at Declan. “On?”
He grins. “On my new bride, stupid. You missed the wedding.”
“Mazel tov.”
Declan snorts. “Yeah, she’s a real good one. Real church girl, you know? The kind you bring home to mama.”
I smile thinly and nod.
He chuckles as he pours whiskey into both of our empty glasses. “I’m just fuckin with you. I wouldn’t bring that girl within a mile of my Ma if she were still around, God rest her soul.”
He raises his glass up. “Still, an ass like a fuckin’ drum, I’ll tell you. Slainte.”
I raise my glass again before knocking it back.
“Look,” he coughs and clears his throat. “I want to clear things up with you and me, you know? We’re family and all, and I’d hate to have this shit between us, kid.”
I level my gaze at him. “I think I’ve been perfectly clear.”
“Cant’ run from your family, Silas.”
“My family’s dead, Declan.”
He scowls. “Not all of them.”
I meet his eye as I take a drink. “All of them.”
Declan rolls his eyes. “I gave you what you needed.”
I laugh harshly.
“Oooh okay, I didn’t get you fuckin ponies or the new video games or whatever. But you had a roof over your head after my sister and your pop died.”
He crosses himself, glancing up.
“You had food.”
I lean back in my chair. “Sometimes.”
“Never claimed to be a chef, you prick.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine, I had-”
“Oh I know what you had.” His eyes narrow at me as he reaches for the pack of smokes on the table and pulls one out.
“You had your fake family.”
I glare at him, feeling the heat rise in my face.
He grins. “Ooo, there’s that temper again.”
“They took me in.”
Declan lights his cigarette. “You were a pet.”
“Fuck you,” I spit out.
He shakes his head. “You were a side project, a fuckin charity case for the good Reverend. Remind me, how’d that whole thing go after you started porking his daughter?”
I stand abruptly, my chair screeching back across the tile floor.
“Oh sit your ass down.” Declan waves a hand at me. “Calm down, hot head. Where’s that family now? Still all lovely-dovey? Ilene Hammond still cooking you dinners? Still washing your clothes?”
I sit slowly, hands gripping the edge of the table. “You know what happened there.”
“Yeah, sure I do.” He blows smoke out of the side of his mouth as he leans back in his chair. “You fucked up.”
I say nothing.
“You made one little teeny mistake as a young kid, and they threw you out.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” I growl.
“No it ain’t.”
My uncle toys with the wrapper on his cigarette pack.
“You showed your true colors for one second, showed them the puppy they’d taken in had bark and a little bite, and they kicked you out into the rain. Don’t-” he shakes his head as he grabs the bottle and pours another glass for us both.
“Don’t make excuses, you know its true. A real family?” He shrugs. “A real family forgives.”
Declan’s words are poison, and I know it. They always have been.