Craving Resurrection

  “What de hell, Mum?”

  “Out!”

  He didn’t glance at me again, but threw his arms in the air, causing me to flinch back as he stormed out the door. What a dick.

  “Ye alright? He didn’t scare ye, did he?” Peg asked after he was gone from the room.

  “Uh, a little.” I laughed nervously. Was this when she’d tell me to leave? Shit.

  “Ignore him. My boy’s all bluster. Ye’ve got school in four hours. Try and get some more sleep, eh?”

  My jaw dropped as she turned off the light and pulled the door mostly closed. Had she really just told me to go back to sleep? How the hell was I supposed to do that? And why hadn’t she asked me to leave?

  I sunk back down against the bumpy mattress and pulled the blankets to my chin as my mind circled around and around, going over what happened. I could hear their quiet voices in the kitchen while Peg banged pots and pans, but I didn’t even try to listen to what they were saying.

  I was too busy trying to ignore the flutter in my belly as I remembered Patrick’s sharp jaw and full lips as he’d sneered at me. His cheeks had been flushed with anger, but I almost hadn’t noticed because I’d been to busy tracing the freckles across his face. Dear God. Freckles. He was an asshole, clearly, but he was the most handsome one I’d ever seen.

  ***

  I must have fallen back asleep at some point, because when I finally woke up the next morning, I could tell by the way the sun was shining through the window that I was really late for school. Peg always woke me up as she left for work so I could head back home to shower, but I wasn’t really surprised she’d forgotten. She hadn’t seen her son in months, and I was sure after the initial scene she’d been over the moon that he was home for a visit. She talked about Patrick all the time, and I knew she missed him like crazy while he was gone.

  I slipped my feet into my sandals as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. God, I hated mornings. I was dragging ass as I made the bed, fluffing the softest feather pillow I’d ever felt and smoothing down the patched-up quilt. I tried not to leave any messes while I was at Peg’s. She worked really hard, usually exhausted by the time she got home in the afternoon, and I never wanted to make things harder for her. She claimed my presence in her life was God’s blessing, and I didn’t want her to change her stance on that by forcing her to clean up after me. A few minutes later, I was shuffling blearily into the living room.

  “Mornin’.”

  I stumbled to a stop outside the bedroom, my eyes growing wide as I caught sight of Patrick’s muscular bare chest and sleep-tousled hair.

  Freckles on his chest.

  Dear God, he had freckles on his chest.

  “Me mum’s at de shop.”

  My gaze dropped to the cup of coffee he was holding, his long fingers wrapped completely around the mug, and I swallowed nervously. I needed to get out of there before I had some sort of episode that ended with me passing out or peeing myself. “Okay,” I mumbled, moving around him toward the door.

  “Hey, Amy, right?”

  My head snapped up in surprise. Why was he still talking to me?

  “Sorry about dis mornin’. I haven’t been home as much as I should, and de guilt of dat mixed wit’ surprise at findin’ a woman in me bed, well, I t’ought maybe ye were takin’ advantage of me ma’s good nature. Stupid, yeah? De woman’s no fool.” He said the last words on a smile, shaking his head. “Forgive me?”

  “Yeah, okay,” I answered quickly before he could take back the apology.

  He’d been a complete asshole, but I couldn’t really fault him for it. If I had a mom as sweet as Peg, I’d be hell-bent on keeping leeches away from her, too. Plus, I wasn’t sure how long he would be there, and I was terrified if we didn’t work out some sort of ceasefire I’d be stuck at the house with my parents for his entire visit.

  “I better get home,” I said with a nod, moving toward the front door again.

  “Mum said ye were supposed to be in school today. Yer parents won’t be angry yer not dere?”

  After taking a moment to decipher his quickly spoken words, I realized he’d asked the same question that had been rattling around in my head since I’d woken up to sunlight through the window. “I can handle it.”

  “Ye don’t go home until later, dey won’t know right?”

  Why the hell was the absence of the ‘th’ sound in his words so freaking hot? I’d been hearing it that way for months already. It’s not like it was anything new.

  “Uh…”

  “Ye can stay here if ye want.”

  My jaw dropped, and he blushed when he saw my reaction to his words.

  “Fuck, girl. I’m not tryin’ to get in yer knickers. Just t’ought I’d help ye out. I’m too old for ye.”

  Did that mean if I were older, he would be trying to get in my pants? Wait, how did the conversation morph into getting in my pants? My palms began to sweat as he pushed himself off the sofa.

  “Who—” my words stuttered as he stepped forward and we were suddenly very close to each other. “Who said I’d even want you?”

  “Beautiful, might wanna look at me face if yer tryin’ to convince me o’dat. Been starin’ at me chest since ye walked out of me bedroom and yer voice has gone a bit…ragged.” His cheeks dimpled, and he winked before stepping around me.

  “Your bedroom?” My voice sounded strangled as I twisted to watch him walk away.

  “Since I was a wean,” he answered with a chuckle. “I’m havin’ a shower. Yer here when I get out, we’ll find somet’in’ to do today.”

  The bathroom door closed behind him as I stood frozen. I’d been sleeping in his bed? Oh, my God. No wonder he’d walked right in.

  I fell to the couch with a huff and dropped my face into my hands. I’d been sleeping in his bed more often than not for the last two months. Oh, shit! Had I been drooling on his pillow? And most importantly, if he was staying, did that mean I had to stay at my house?

  It wasn’t as if I could ask him to sleep on the couch so I could take his room. He wouldn’t even fit on the damn couch. Not only was he too long, but I swear his muscles had muscles, and he was too broad for Peg’s miniature sofa.

  I whipped my hands away from my face in frustration and, to my horror, they were immediately tickled by little hairs. Oh, no. I reached up, fanning them next to my face and could have cried when I felt more hair brushing my palms. Shit! I’d pulled my hair into a ponytail, but I hadn’t even thought to tame the flyaways near my face. Normally I didn’t run into anyone before I’d had a shower. How could I have known he was lying in wait?

  I knew what I would see if I looked in a mirror: a freaking horror show of dark fuzz curling slightly toward the ceiling like devil horns.

  No wonder he didn’t want to get in my “knickers.” I looked like an idiot.

  The bathroom door squeaked. “Don’t leave, yeah?” he called quietly from the cracked door, making me shoot a startled look in his direction.

  “Patrick…” I hedged, forcing my hands into my lap so I wouldn’t try to brush at the flyaways and draw even more attention to them.

  “Mates call me Trick,” he replied with another wink.

  When he closed the bathroom door again, I bolted off the couch and sprinted toward the front door. If I didn’t leave before he finished showering, I had a feeling I’d be just another girl who lost all common sense at the sight of Patrick Gallagher’s smile.

  It was one thing to find him incredibly hot, but it was quite another to actually spend time with him… especially when I looked like crap.

  Chapter 4

  Amy

  I was kidding myself if I thought I could avoid Patrick while he was staying at his mom’s.

  I hadn’t been caught that morning. My mom had left a note saying that she’d gone to my room, but my door had been locked so she assumed I was sleeping and had left me be. Apparently, her and my dad would be gone for dinner so I had to ‘fend for myself.’ Like I hadn’t been doing
that every night since I was ten.

  I spent most of the day working on homework that I’d neglected the night before, and trying to forge some sort of excuse for my absence from school. It was a Friday, so thankfully I wouldn’t have to deal with the Sisters for a few days. Hopefully, I’d be able to legibly forge my mother’s signature by Monday.

  At three that afternoon while I was reading on my bed, I almost pissed my pants when someone began knocking loudly on my window. When I turned toward it, I found Patrick Gallagher’s smiling face so close it was almost pressing up against the glass. Holy shit.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed, sliding the warped window open.

  “Mum wanted me to come get ye. She t'inks yer angry about dis mornin’ since ye didn’t come for tea.”

  “Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late.” I stepped away from the window to grab a pair of shoes and my favorite sweatshirt. “ I’ll be right out!”

  He disappeared from the window and I wrapped my hair in a knot at my neck before pushing one of my legs though the opening, then ducking and twisting to get the rest of my body through.

  “What de fuck are ye doin’?”

  My head flew up and knocked the windowsill hard in surprise.

  “I told you I’d be right out!” I sniped, hopping down into the grass before rubbing the small knot on the crown of my head.

  “Forgive me for assumin’ ye’d go out de front door like a normal person.”

  “You’re forgiven.”

  I refused to look directly at him as I walked past, too embarrassed to meet his eyes and totally annoyed that he’d surprised me twice. I wished he would just leave already so I could go back to my relatively safe and normal life. Before I’d reached the end of the house, my arm was grabbed firmly and I was swung around to face him.

  “Is dere a reason ye don’t care for me, or do ye generally hate all men?” His face was close enough to mine that I could taste the mint on his breath, and for a moment I was afraid I’d hyperventilate and swoon like a blushing maiden from one of my romance novels.

  “I-I don’t dislike you,” I stuttered back, my heart thumping hard. “I don’t even know you.”

  His grip suddenly softened and though I could’ve pulled away, I wasn’t able to actually make myself do it. He was staring at me, cataloguing each of my features with his eyes, and I was frozen.

  “Ye disappeared dis mornin’.”

  “I had stuff to do at home.”

  “Ye always take a shower and den read all day instead of spendin’ time wit’ a new friend?”

  “Were you spying on me?”

  He laughed, squeezing my bicep before turning me and wrapping his arm companionably around my shoulders as he began to usher me toward Peg’s.

  “Didn’t have to spy—just guessed. I know de type. By yer reaction, I’ll bet I was correct.” He let go of my shoulders and dropped his hand to my lower back to guide me up Peg’s front stairs.

  “What type?” I asked, trying to focus on the conversation as his hand slid a little lower.

  “Me type,” he whispered as we walked in the front door.

  Peg chose that moment to come rushing out of the kitchen, a small towel hanging over her shoulder. “Amy! Ach, I’m so sorry I forgot to wake ye this mornin’!”

  “That’s okay,” I reassured her as Patrick moved around me to drop onto the sofa. “I was really tired, anyway.”

  “Well, come in and get yer snack, even though ye didn’t spend yer day at school. I made yer favorite!”

  “How was work?” I asked as I followed Peg out of the small living room. “You look tired.”

  “Eh, I’m always tired!” she stepped toward the counter then turned around with a flourish. “Strawberry shortcake!”

  “Holy—” I ducked as her hand came flying toward my head. “You remembered! Thank you!”

  I bounced on my toes until she’d set three bowls down, then wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground. “You’re really great, you know that?”

  “Sweet girl,” she murmured into my hair. “Now, put me down so we can eat.”

  We sat around the table, talking and laughing like we always did, but there was a significant difference with Patrick there. It was hard not to stare at his mouth as he told us stories about school and the mechanic shop where he worked, and it was equally hard not to groan in mortification every time Peg glanced between us with a small grin on her face. I’m not sure what she saw when she watched us bantering back and forth, but whatever it was had her acting like she knew something I didn’t.

  “It’s five, Amy.” Peg warned me suddenly, as I smiled at Patrick. Wait, what?

  I jumped up hastily, tangling my feet in the legs of my chair and barely catching it before it tipped backwards.

  “What de hell?” Patrick asked in confusion.

  “Her parents get home soon, son.” Peg replied quietly.

  “So?”

  “I’m supposed to be home before they get there,” I explained hurriedly.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, I just am.” I slipped the chair gently into its spot against the table, and carried my dish to the sink where I began to rinse it out.

  “Yer not allowed to have friends?” He persisted, following me to the small sink.

  “Yes, I am…”

  “Name one.”

  “Peg.”

  “Dat doesn’t count, does it? Yer racin’ home so yer parents don’t know ye’ve been spendin’ yer time here.”

  “That’s not it at all!” I huffed, quickly drying the bowl in my hands. “I just have to be home when they get there.”

  “So dey know ye come here after school, den?”

  I clenched my jaw as my irritation grew. Why was he pushing this?

  “No.”

  “Well—”

  “Patrick, leave it alone,” Peg warned from the table as I moved to go around him.

  “Why don’t yer parents know ye come here? Why de big secret, eh?” he asked again, ignoring his mom completely. “Ye ashamed?”

  Frustrated tears began to form at the back of my eyes as he moved with me, refusing to let me past him. “Don’t want yer American parents to know ye’ve been spendin’ time wit’ de poor mick t’ree houses down?”

  I reached out and shoved him hard in the chest, taking his second of surprise as an opportunity to slide past him.

  As I reached the doorway and freedom, I spun back toward him.

  “My mother’s Irish, you prick.” I said, lifting my chin. “And I didn’t know you before, but now I don’t like you.”

  I tore my gaze away from his and met Peg’s over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Peg. Thank you for the shortcake. It was amazing. I’ll see you later.”

  It was a good thing he didn’t try to follow me home, because I was livid by the time I crawled back through my bedroom window. The telephone was ringing in the living room, and I ran as fast as I could to answer it, picking up just as the answering machine message began to play.

  “Hello?”

  “That’s not how you answer the phone, Amy.”

  “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

  “Why are you out of breath?”

  “I was working out.”

  “Oh, well that’s good. You don’t want to get fat.”

  There was an awkward silence as she waited for me to agree with her. It wasn’t going to happen.

  “Well, I was calling because your father and I have decided to spend the night out tonight. He met some friends through work and they’ve invited us over.”

  “Okay, well, what time will you be home?”

  “Honestly, Amy? I just said we wouldn’t be home tonight. We’ll be back tomorrow mid-morning. You’re almost eighteen. You can spend one night alone, for Christ’s sake.”

  She’d used the Lord’s name in vain as if it was nothing, and it reminded me of the house I’d just ran from. Suddenly, I didn’t care if they never came back.

&n
bsp; “Oh, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” I mumbled.

  “Speak up!”

  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I enunciated obnoxiously. I was feeling brave, knowing that I wouldn’t see her for almost twenty-four hours.

  “You’re such a fucking brat.”

  The line clicked and she was gone.

  “Bye, Mom! Have a nice time!” I called sarcastically to the dead connection.

  I set the phone in its cradle and looked around the house, suddenly unsure. It was really quiet, and I’d be there all night by myself…

  I smiled huge and pumped my arms wildly above my head in jubilation. Then I carried my boom box to the living room and turned on some music, changed into a ratty pair of sweats, and went to the kitchen to make myself some dinner. I rarely had use of the kitchen for any length of time, so even though we usually had all the vegetables and fruits I could want, I never got to make anything elaborate or fun. My night was going to be awesome.

  By the time I was done making beef stew from scratch, I was practically giddy. I couldn’t wait to have my own place one day, to not have to worry about making too much noise or filling the house with ‘food’ smells—which was one of my mom’s pet peeves. I was thinking about running over to Peg’s to see if she’d like some stew when I heard someone knocking on the front door.

  I wondered who it could be, maybe Patrick or Peg? I didn’t really know anyone else. When I opened the door though, it definitely wasn’t anyone I’d ever met.

  I recognized his voice, though.

  Chapter 5

  Amy

  “Hey, Allie, right?” the man said with a smile, crowding me back into the house before I could get a word in edgewise.

  He wasn’t huge, and he was good looking, but his voice made my skin crawl. I didn’t mean to let him into the house. I really didn’t want him anywhere near me, but he stepped so close that my immediate reaction was to take a step back, followed by another, and soon he’d crossed the threshold.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, trying to hide the panic in my voice. I was practically an adult, and this was my house. I needed to just tell him to get lost and he’d leave.