“Wow. You mean you’re not going to kick me out of your club?” I gasped mockingly.
“If you show up tomorrow, I will.” He lounged comfortably in his seat, smirking. “Right now you seem to be doing a fine job ruining your own evening. No need for me to interfere.”
“You’re an asshole,” I spat out.
“And you sound like a broken record.”
“Cut this out, both of you. Start from the beginning, Ash,” Cillian ordered as the last of the crowd trickled out of the room. “What happened? Since when has Mother been dabbling with prescription drugs?”
“Since forever.” I threw my arms in the air. “She is a cutter, too.”
Both my brothers paled in response.
“Bet you didn’t know that either, huh? She mainly does this for attention, to keep Da and me on our toes whenever she thinks we don’t pay her enough attention. There’s a lot you don’t know. I can’t do this all by myself. Our family is falling apart.”
“I—” Cillian started, but I was so mad I cut him off. It was the first time I ever snapped at my older brother.
“And you didn’t even pick up the phone when I called you! You ghosted me.”
“We didn’t ghost you,” Cillian maintained coolly. “We put our phones aside and didn’t see your texts.”
“Even if you didn’t ghost me tonight, you’ve ghosted me our entire lives, letting me live this nightmare of tending to our mother alone!”
“Sis,” Hunter said softly, reaching for my hand over the roulette table, “we had no idea. It wasn’t like we ignored the situation on purpose. You were our blind spot.”
“Yeah.” Cillian leaned a shoulder against the wall, looking gravely serious. “Mother and Athair always seemed on the unhinged side, but you have to remember we’ve never actually lived under their roof. Not since toddlerhood, anyway. We thought it was under control. That you were the one taking advantage of the perks of staying at home and not vice versa.”
“Staying at home is a nightmare!” I fell onto a nearby stool, burying my face in my hands, hating that Sam was watching this whole freak show. “Mother is a master manipulator. I draw her baths, drive her places, act as a messenger between her and Da. I’m basically her maid, and I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“You don’t have to,” Cillian said firmly. “We’ll come up with a plan. I will go to the hospital and stay with Mother tonight. Hunter, you’ll take over tomorrow. Aisling needs some space from her for the time being.”
Hunter nodded. “Don’t worry, sis, we got this. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
I tried to regulate my breaths. I could feel Sam’s gaze on me. He seemed eerily quiet the entire conversation. Not that I expected him to weigh in on our family woes, but Sam wasn’t a fan of gossip. Usually when he lost interest in something, he removed himself from the situation.
Why did he stay in the room?
“I just need to clear my head,” I said quietly. “Her overdose was to get back at me. I’m afraid if I give her what she wants—more attention—it’ll defeat the purpose of strong-arming her into getting the help she needs.”
At the same time, moving out and going cold turkey was something I didn’t want on my conscience. She needed me, learned how to be dependent on me, and leaving now would be cruel.
“You’re right,” Hunter agreed. “We don’t want you near her. We’ll let her know it can’t carry on like this. Now that we’re in the picture, too.”
“I’ll give Aisling a ride home.” Sam stood up, his voice toneless.
I shot to my feet at the same time. “No, thanks. I’m parked outside.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Sam’s right.” Hunter gave me an apologetic look. “You’re in no condition to drive. Pick the car up tomorrow morning. Your body must be flooding with adrenaline. Try to take it easy tonight. We’ll tackle this clusterfuck tomorrow.”
“It’s a clusterfuck indeed. Which reminds me—now’s a great time to ask for a raise,” Devon drawled sarcastically, emerging from the shadows of the room. I forgot he was even here, which was an impossible task, seeing how gorgeous he was. “The Windsors draw less attention than you lot.”
“Hands to yourself, Brennan,” Cillian barked in Sam’s direction. “Remember your paycheck comes with stipulations.”
“Your neck does, too, Fitzpatrick.” Sam offered me his hand, helping me to my feet, leaving my brothers behind us. He pressed his hand to the small of my back, ushering me up the stairs back to his office.
“How are you feeling?” he asked tightly. I had an inkling the mere idea of pretending to care made his skin crawl, yet I oddly appreciated his concern, even if it wasn’t genuine.
“Fine.” I rubbed my forehead. “Just tired. Overstimulated.”
“Stay at my place. I have a spare bedroom and zero fucked-up parents living under my roof.”