Read Craving Resurrection Page 32


  I pulled her tight against me and dropped my face to her shoulder, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. She felt so small there, like she was shrinking into herself, and I tortured myself with the thought that she’d been where Nix was, but with no hospital and no support past my mum and Doc. It made me want to go back and slice Malcolm to pieces all over again.

  “He’ll be alright,” I assured her, rubbing her back gently. “Best trauma hospital in de state—dey know what dey’re doin.’ ”

  “His face, Patrick.” She sobbed, “It was so swollen.”

  “Boy was too pretty to begin wit’, yeah? It’ll give his mug some character.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered, pulling away from me. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

  I glanced up to find the lads standing around uncomfortably, and Dragon watching the interaction closely with absolutely no expression.

  “Boys,” I said, lightly grasping Amy’s arm to turn her toward them. “Dis is Amy, Phoenix’s mum. Amy, dis is Casper, Dragon and Grease.”

  “Nice names,” she commented with a snort, making me grin.

  “Call me Asa, ma’am.” Grease said, reaching out to grasp her hand.

  “Cody,” Casper followed.

  “Dragon.”

  “Gonna stick with Dragon, huh?” Amy asked as she grasped his hand.

  “Only name I answer to,” he replied with a twitch of his lips.

  “You guys know my son?” she asked, stepping back to my side.

  She didn’t touch me, but my breath still sped up at her movement. If she knew what she’d done, she’d immediately step away again, and I wanted her there next to me. The fact that she’d instinctively moved to my side after staying as far away as she could for so long was… she may as well have kissed me.

  “Yeah,” Grease answered her, “Known Nix for years.”

  “He never said anything about a gorgeous mother, though,” Casper chimed in with a crooked smile.

  “Watch it,” I warned, making the boys laugh.

  “You can call me gorgeous all damn day,” Amy argued, before glancing over her shoulder. “You guys met Mat yet?”

  We walked toward the man hunched over in his chair, and I couldn’t help but feel incredibly sorry for him. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were wrinkled as hell, and the mop of blonde hair on his head was literally standing on end.

  “Hey, Mat,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand. “Good to see ye.”

  “Hey, Trick.”

  “The boyfriend?” Grease mouthed to Dragon.

  My boys were standing silently, their chests puffed out like a bunch of roosters and theirs arms crossed over their chests.

  Jesus Christ.

  “Where were you?” Grease said quietly, and I honestly thought Mat was going to shit himself right there in the middle of the hospital waiting room.

  “Enough, Grease—”

  “I was home asleep,” Mat replied, his eyes filling with tears. “I was just tired—I just didn’t want to go out and watch football at a fucking bar. I wanted to sit on my motherfucking couch and watch the game in my goddamn underwear.”

  His words got stronger as he got angrier, and it was a relief when the broken man stood up and started pacing. The lads all watched closely as Mat ran his hand over his hair—showing us exactly how it had gotten so messy—and one by one, their bodies relaxed. Casper was new—and younger—but Grease and Dragon had been protective of Nix since the first time he’d shown up at the garage on a rusted old Honda. The fact that Nix had never brought Mat by the garage made them suspicious.

  “Are you the family of Phoenix Gallagher?”

  I spun around to catch sight of a man in light blue scrubs walking toward us.

  “I’m his mother,” Amy stated, taking a couple steps forward.

  “Hello. I’m Dr. Albright. We’ve just finished with Phoenix, and the surgery went beautifully—”

  I didn’t hear the rest of the words as my legs began to tingle, and I wondered for a moment if I was going to hit the floor in a heap from the relief that made me dizzy.

  “Steady, brother,” Dragon mumbled, gripping my shoulder until I caught my balance again.

  By that time, the doctor was already walking back through the double doors he’d come out of and I’d missed almost everything he’d said.

  “Thank God,” Amy murmured, a wide smile on her face. “Thank God. Thank God.” The last word was a sob, and she dropped her face into her hands, covering her entire face beneath her fingers.

  My legs were instantly steady and in working order.

  “Shhh,” I soothed, stepping forward to pull her against my chest as she moaned into her hands. “Come on now, love, ye’ve gotta calm a bit or ye’ll make yerself sick.”

  Her fingers dug into my chest as she gripped my t-shirt, but she couldn’t seem to stop the sobs that wracked her body.

  “Did dey say when we could see him?” I asked Casper, who was standing the closest to us.

  “He’s in recovery now—an hour or so and they’ll let one or two people back.”

  “Only an hour, sweetheart,” I murmured into Amy’s hair as her sobs calmed to hiccupping breaths. “Ye want some coffee, or a soda maybe?”

  She shook her head but didn’t raise it as she continued clutching my shirt tightly, almost like she was afraid I was going to let her go. Christ, hadn’t she figured it out yet? I’d continue to hold her as long as she’d allow it.

  ***

  Two hours passed before they allowed us back to see Nix. He’d had some sort of reaction to the anesthesia and they’d wanted to keep a close eye on things for a while longer than they’d told us in the beginning.

  They’d only allow two people in the room at a time, and I’d clenched my jaw as Mat and Amy stood up to follow the nurse back, but within a few steps Amy had paused and rested her hand on Mat’s arm.

  “I think it should be me and Patrick at first, okay, Mat?” She said it kindly, but it really wasn’t a question.

  “Oh, sure,” he replied, glancing back to where I was getting to my feet. “I’ll just wait for one of you to come out.”

  I took his place as we followed the dark haired nurse, and I glanced over at Amy’s face as we walked, curious about where her head was at. It didn’t take long before she started to speak.

  “You’re his dad,” she said, focusing her eyes straight ahead. “I mean, as close as he’s ever had to one. You should be one of the first ones in there.”

  I nodded, but I couldn’t answer her because, for the first time since I’d gotten her phone call, I felt tears burn at the backs of my eyes. His da. To say I was honored would have been a massive understatement.

  Chapter 51

  Amy

  Every fear I’d had over the course of Nix’s life had coalesced into that single moment when I met his eyes after surgery.

  He was groggy and his face was still really swollen. During the few hours we’d been apart, his skin had begun to bruise in shades varying from raspberry to almost black, and they’d set the broken bone in his wrist while he was out of it.

  But none of those things were as bad as the look in his eyes. It was pure fear and confusion—like he couldn’t even understand what had happened.

  “Mum,” he mumbled through swollen lips.

  “Hey, baby,” I replied gently, walking forward until I was standing next to the edge of his bed. “I’d kiss ya, but I’m afraid I’d hurt those Angelina Jolie lips you’ve got goin’ on.”

  “Ma mouth tathteth like ath,” he said, his words so garbled I had a hard time understanding him. “An ma tongue hurth like a motha.”

  “Ye probably bit de hell out of it,” Patrick spoke up, finally coming into the room.

  “Twick!” Nix said in surprise, one side of his mouth pulling up a little before falling again. His eyes darkened in embarrassment as they jerked back and forth between us, and I saw hi
m swallow painfully. “You doin’ hea?”

  “Had to come see me boy,” Patrick replied softly, stopping on the other side of Nix’s bed. “Ye look like shite.”

  “Ya thould thee the otha guy,” Nix joked with no change in expression.

  “Only one?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek as we waited for his answer. I knew. I knew that there was no way one guy did this much damage to my boy. My son was big, and he was incredibly strong, and after years of visiting Patrick at the club, I knew he could take care of himself. So the fact that he was in the hospital just out of surgery because he’d been beaten so badly? There had to have been more than one person involved.

  “Fow o five, I thin,” Nix answered, dropping his head gingerly back onto the pillows. My stomach clenched in horror. He hadn’t stood a chance.

  “Ye recognize any of dem?”

  “Theen couple of vem awoun. At the bah prett offen.” Nix’s eyes closed, and two tears rolled down the sides of his face as his nostrils flared.

  “Alright, son,” Patrick said gently, “Alright.”

  He reached out to brush Nix’s wild hair gently off his forehead, and my throat felt so thick it was hard for me to breathe.

  “Lads are here wit’ me, we’ll take care of dis—” Patrick promised.

  “Don let em back heah,” Nix said quietly, defeat in every line of his body.

  “Nix—” I began, but Patrick cut me off.

  “Look at me,” he ordered quietly, leaning down into Nix’s face.

  My son’s eyes opened, and the shame there nearly brought me to my knees.

  “Ye—” Patrick stopped and cleared his throat, sniffing once before speaking again. “Ye get a few of yer own in?”

  Nix nodded slightly, his eyes watering.

  “Dat’s me boy,” Patrick said vehemently. “Ye have not one t’ing to be ashamed about, ye understand me?” His head lowered even farther until Nix had no option of looking away. “Dere is no shame in bein’ outnumbered.”

  “Ith becauthe I’m gay,” Nix whispered as if that was important, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Ca me a faggot.”

  Patrick reared back as if he’d been hit, and the fury on his face was overwhelming.

  “Ye did not come from me body,” Patrick said fiercely, staring into Nix’s overflowing eyes and cupping his face so gently their skin was barely touching. “But ye are me son. And ye are exactly as God made ye. Dere is not one t’ing wrong wit’ ye, Phoenix Robert Gallagher, and I’ll kill any man who says ot'erwise.”

  Nix chest lurched as he tried to hold back a sob, and I laid my hand over my eyes to hide my despair.

  I remember being afraid of every sharp corner and uneven step when Nix was a baby. I’d seen danger everywhere, and I’d been riddled with anxiety any time he’d attempt to sit up or crawl or walk. There were so many things he could hurt himself on.

  As he grew older, the focus changed. It was slow, but eventually I got more comfortable with his physical safety and I’d worried more about his emotional safety. There’s nothing quite like dropping your kindergartener off on the first day and forcing yourself to walk away from them. Was he scared? Was he crying? What if the other kids were mean? Did I put the right t-shirt on him or was that cartoon considered uncool? It didn’t stop; if anything, that feeling of fear grew as he got older.

  I couldn’t protect him any more, not physically or emotionally, and now he’d been unbelievably hurt. That realization was like someone cutting out my heart.

  “Mum, don’ cry,” Nix said, grabbing my loose shirt in his fingers. “I’m gon be fine.”

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” I replied, pulling a few tissues from his nightstand to wipe my face. “Christ, Nix.”

  “Ith Mat here?” he asked, his eyes moving between Patrick and me.

  “Yeah, he’s here. He’s probably pissed because I made him wait so Patrick could come back.”

  “He’ll get ovah it.” He waved his hand a little in a ‘brush it off’ gesture that reminded me of Peg. “I’m tiad, can you thend him back before ah path out?”

  “Sure, son.” I leaned forward to kiss him, but I couldn’t find a single place on his face that wasn’t battered.

  “Lipth,” he muttered, pursing his lips.

  I gave him a quick peck, then leaned back. “It’s like three in the morning, so I’m going to get a hotel unless you want me to stay?”

  “Nah.”

  “That’s what I figured. I’ll be back after I get a couple hours of sleep, okay?”

  “Love ooh, Mumma.”

  “I love you too, baby.”

  I left the room before I started crying again. He didn’t need me losing my shit while he laid there in pain, unable to do anything about it. He was so protective of me, probably because it had just been me and him against the world for most of his life —so I knew that he was lying in there worried about me, even though he had to be in excruciating amounts of pain.

  Patrick didn’t follow me straight out, but by the time I’d reached the double doors to the waiting room, he’d caught up to me.

  “Mat, yer up,” he called out as we reached the group of men standing in the corridor. “Ye stayin’ here de rest of de night?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be in his room if they don’t kick me out.”

  “Okay, let me or his mum know if ye’ve gotta leave, yeah?”

  “Sure.” Mat didn’t wait another second before he was striding quickly down the hallway and out of our sight.

  “He say anything?” Grease asked, the veins in his neck becoming more pronounced as I watched. The guy was built like a brick shithouse.

  “Got a description on two of ‘em,” Patrick answered, his jaw tightly clenched. “Said he’s seen ‘em around de pub he goes to. Saturday night, should be easy to find ‘em. Nix got one of ‘em good in de face, bet dey all have fucked up knuckles.”

  “Cops been in yet?” Dragon asked, and I got a good look at him now that I was a bit calmer.

  That’s when I realized who he was—Brenna’s man. That’s why I’d remembered his name. Dang, their daughter was the spitting image of him.

  “Haven’t been in yet—don’t matter though—Nix don’t remember what happened.”

  I looked at him sharply, and he shook his head once.

  “Amy and I are gonna get a hotel, ye boys should do de same.”

  “Need to talk, brother,” Dragon said ominously. Damn, if these boys weren’t young enough to be my sons, they’d be scary as hell.

  “It’ll wait,” Patrick dismissed him with a glare. “I’ll call ye lads in a few hours.”

  His hand rested at the small of my back as he ushered me to the elevator, and I didn’t resist. I just didn’t have it in me.

  Once I knew that Phoenix would be okay, my body had started to ache with exhaustion, and my head was pounding from all the tears I’d shed. Now that the nightmares that had plagued me since Nix was a child had been realized, I didn’t know what to do with myself.

  I was so angry, so unbelievably angry. I wanted to find those men and claw their eyes out. I wanted to parade them through the streets, yelling out their crime for everyone to hear. I wanted them to hurt for their cowardice.

  I wanted them to feel the same shame that Nix was feeling for not being able to protect himself.

  Those motherfuckers.

  “Ye know a hotel around here?” Patrick asked as we stepped outside the front doors.

  “Yeah.” My voice was hollow and I could feel the numbness sinking in.

  “Hey,” he called, getting my attention. “I’ll grab me bike and follow ye dere. Where ye parked?”

  ***

  He was being a bit presumptuous twenty minutes later when he rented only one room, but I didn’t say a word. I knew it was a bad idea—Patrick and I in one place with a bed involved was always a bad idea—but I didn’t like the idea of being alone, either.

  He was the only support system I had, as pathetic as that sounde
d. I’d never been good at making friends, and most of the people I came into contact with on a daily basis were acquaintances at best. Making connections had never been something I’d learned to do, and after I’d been attacked all those years before, I’d lost the will to even try. I liked my own company. I didn’t need anyone else.

  I suppose, though, that wasn’t altogether true. Because at one point, I’d needed two people more than I’d ever thought possible. One of them was leading me down a corridor at that very moment, looking for our hotel room.

  “Only brought one change of clothes in my saddle bags, but if ye want the t-shirt I got, it’s yers,” he mumbled, pushing open the door to the room.

  “I’m good in this,” I told him, walking ahead of him and straight into the bathroom.

  I needed to wash my face and I’d had to pee for what felt like hours. I stayed in there longer than I needed to, but eventually, I pulled off my shoes and socks and walked back into the bedroom, carrying them in my arms.

  Patrick was doing something on his phone when I came out, but looked up when I sat on the edge of the bed, still holding the shoes.

  “Ot’er side, love,” he said, making me look up in surprise.

  “Huh?”

  “I sleep by de door.”

  I nodded absently and stood back up, remembering the first night he’d rolled over to face the door instead of sleeping wrapped around me. I told myself that I didn’t care how he slept anymore, but a small part of me twinged at the thought that he still did that.

  He came toward me as I sat back down, and my eyes burned as I looked up to meet his. God, they hurt. I was so fucking worn out.

  “Better lie down before ye fall down,” he said quietly, reaching behind me to pull the blankets down the bed. “Climb in.”

  He took my shoes and socks out of my hand and unwrapped my purse from over my shoulder as soon as I laid down, then pulled the blankets back up to my chin, tucking them around my sides.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, taking a step back. “Forgot where I was for a moment.”