End Game (New York Stars Book 1)

I CAN’T SAY that I had any expectations of how this would go.

I figured it might be stilted for us, but knowing how big families work and how big family dinners go, I thought we’d just blend into the background if things were awkward.

Instead, each of the O’Donnellys is wearing a hot pink sticker on their chests, most of them good-naturedly, as they talk over one another, drawing us into several conversations at once while the matriarch of the family, Lena, coordinates the meal as if it’s an orchestra and she’s an experienced conductor—which reminds me of Hanna.

Mostly, what fascinates me is how comfortable Gracie immediately is.

You’d think this was her family, not mine. I’m almost jealous of her ease with the bunch of strangers and how she dives into an argument with Declan and Conor over how Acuig is managing their soccer team.

“They’re overwhelming en masse, aren’t they?”

My gaze doesn’t have to drift to the sticker to know this is Aoife, mostly because I already associate her with the brownies she offered me and that I had to turn down.

Did I mention that I’m so sick and tired of not eating what I want to goddamn eat?

“I’m used to big families,” is my answer, but because she’s so sweet, I continue, “I think I’m just jealous of Gracie.”

“Why?”

“Look at her. She’s in her element.”

“Probably because there are no expectations on her. It’s different for you. I remember when I experienced my first family dinner—it was nerve-wracking.” She tilts her head to the side. “She makes you happy, doesn’t she?”

My brows lift. “What makes you say that?”

“You only smile when you’ve got your eyes on her.” Her own smile is gentle. “I know what happened to you, Liam. I understand more than you can know what it’s like to overcome that kind of trauma. We find our joy where we can.”

Her words have me releasing a sharp breath, one I feel like I’ve been holding in since Conor started harassing his brothers (mobsters) and sisters-in-law (literal mob wives) to wear name tags. “My therapist tells me I’m supposed to find joy in myself.”

“Therapists are all theory. Sure, we need to find it in ourselves to a certain degree, but there’s joy in being with the people we love and who love us in return.” She flicks a look at her family. Our family. “There was a time when I wouldn’t have been here, wouldn’t have seated myself at the same table as Lena… I’m glad I overcame that because to see Finn here, to see Jake here, is worth it.”

“Why didn’t you want to be at the same table as Lena?” I ask, my curiosity getting away from me.

Her gaze is calm as she rests it on me. “You know what Acuig is?”

“I know my cousins are Irish mobsters.”

“Well, when you ask questions like that, you need to know the path you’re diving down.” Her smile brightens. “It doesn’t matter anyway. That’s in the past. It has to be.”

“The past affects the present.”

“It does, yes, but only as much as you allow it.”

“Tell that to my nightmares. You think I ‘allow’ them?”

She rests a hand on my arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Liam.”

Recognizing that I’m overreacting, I sigh. “I’m sorry, Aoife. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.”

“You’re fine. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know?”

Some people make that offer and don’t mean it.

Aoife isn’t one of those people.

I clear my throat. “I appreciate that.”

“But you won’t take me up on it, hmm?” She grins. “That’s okay too. You’ll come to learn that we’re all here for you, Liam. That’s why Paddy wanted to bring you here and why Lena was nervous—” Something Katina had declared at the table, much to my aunt’s mortification. “—she wanted you to enjoy being with us so you’ll come again.”

“I don’t see why it matters.”

“Because you’re family. Nothing matters more to the O’Donnellys than family; it’s a failing of theirs.”

“A failing? Not a strength?”

“Depends on who you ask,” is her flat retort before she perks up again. “Are you going to resist brownies for dessert? I’m famous for them, you know?”

“Please, don’t tempt me,” I groan. “I’d kill for one.”

“Everything in moderation?”

“Not when you’re a pro athlete.”

She snorts. “I leave the sports and working out to Finn. Inessa and Star are trying to get me into Pilates. That’s torture enough.”

A thought occurs to me—I owe Quentin, the doorman, big time for helping Gracie. A city-famous brownie would hit the spot. “Can I take one with me?”

“Sure. How’s the move to New York been?”

As she draws me into a conversation about that, suddenly Aidan and Finn are trying to tell me about the best steak place in Midtown while Declan and Brennan argue that the Brazilian steakhouse on Fifth Avenue is a thousand times better.

Gracie’s still arguing soccer with Conor, who does not know the game, while Lena and Paddy, both seated at the respective heads of the table, watch on, seemingly content to sit in peace.

I get the feeling they’re both on their best behavior and that’s for my benefit.

Out of nowhere, Aidan’s wife, Savannah, declares, “Oh, my God, I just had the best idea.”

Inessa groans. “I don’t want to know.”

Eoghan’s smile flashes into being—he’s the most severe of the brothers. “If it’s anything like her last ‘best idea…’”

Aidan sighs. “Little one, do we—”

“Player cards.”

I blink. “Player cards?”

She nods at me. “Player cards. But for mobsters.” As one, the brothers start groaning and a flurry of napkins are tossed at her but she beams a grin. “I’m going to make this happen.”

Star cackles. “I’m with you, Savvie. Aela, you’ll have to take the pictures.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re artistic and we’re not,” Savvie retorts.

“I think we should all do it for each of our men,” Aoife chimes in calmly. “But they have to be naked.”

Finn hisses, “Traitor.”

She shoots him a grin. “You’ll love it.”

“I’ll need mine framed,” Savannah purrs.

Gracie and I share a look then quickly glance away from one another with a smirk as the conversation derails into Conor trying to make this marketable for the Stars.

“Naked calendars!”

A couple hours later, with the promise of a basketball game on the big screen and no more talk of mobster trading cards and naked calendars, Finn and Brennan draw me and Gracie into Conor’s man cave.

The rest of the brothers join us at some point, and I can tell they’re mostly happy to let me settle into the fold, a feat that’s only possible because of Gracie.

Is it strange that she’s the bridge between us?

As she argues about why the Knicks are playing like shit this season with Finn, I can feel myself relax more and more until I actually start talking stats with Declan’s son, Shay.

When Paddy takes a seat beside me, sandwiching me between him and Gracie, I don’t tense up like I usually would. I have a childhood of his absences to back up my distrust of him. A childhood of him cheating on maman. A childhood of maman’s sacrifices while Paddy’s only donation to his offspring was the sperm that made me.

With that in mind, I just turn to look at him as he says, “You seem to be getting comfortable.”

“That a problem?”

“The opposite of a problem,” he dismisses. “And I won’t let you rile this into an argument, son. I wanted this for you. They’re your family. You should be here.

“Trouble is I know you and I know that you’re difficult when it’s me-related. Don’t let my being here act as a deterrent. These are your cousins. They’ll welcome you home whenever you want to be a part of it and you should want that. You need it, son.

“Whether you like me or not—and we can both agree that I’ve been a shitty father—I can give them to you. That’s the best thing I’ll have done because these kids are a gift.

“They’ll fight for you, they’ll go to war for you, but mostly, they’ll let you come and sit at their table and eat roast beef with their children in attendance which is the greatest gift of all.”

It’s not like my father to be poetic, and that’s how I know he means every word.

And I can see that he’s right.

Not that I tell him that.

His smile lets me know he’s aware I’m not going to cut him any slack, but it also says he’s okay with that. “Gracie likes them. That’s a good sign.”

“Looks as if she’s getting along with them better than I am.” I huff out a laugh. “Be funny if she got really close, wouldn’t it? We’d both prefer each other’s families.”

Paddy shrugs. “Only if you close yourself off from them. You have a lot in common with the boys.”

“They’re all pro athletes in their spare time, are they?” I scoff.

“No, but is that your measure for friendship? If it is, it’s no wonder you were isolated in Montréal because most pro athletes are assholes. Including you when you’re in this mood.” He lifts a hand before I can interrupt. “Not going to get into an argument with you. I have no intention of upsetting Lena. She’s tried very hard to get everything right today for you.

“She wanted you to know you’re welcome here and you haven’t even thanked her for the meal—”

“Fuck you, Paddy,” I snap. “I thanked her at the table.”

“And that’s all. You didn’t think to bring her any flowers?”

“Whatever. Your gift is me being here when I didn’t want to come,” I argue. Though, knowing point blank I’d have brought flowers for Hanna, I add, “I’ll know to be a better guest next time.”

A hint of surprise appears in his eyes. “I guess you will.”

When Shay drags him into an argument about Coney Island of all places, Gracie places her hand on my knee. “Everything okay?”

Entwining my fingers with hers, a gesture that’s startling in its newness and all the better for it, I glance around the room and find that the entire family has ended up in here.

“Yeah,” I tell her eventually. “I think it might be.”