Craving Resurrection

  “I went to the john for two fuckin’ minutes,” Slider said in apology as he stopped at the open doorway.

  My mouth twitched and I turned in irritation to my daughter. “What do ye need, Brenna?”

  I wanted to be alone with my wife, and I was a mix of frustration and worry as I watched my daughter fidget. I know she’d heard it all, and I wanted to explain, but not then. Not when Amy was silent behind me and I could feel her nervousness as if it were my own.

  “Is it true? What she said—is it true?”

  “Out, Brenna,” Slider growled, taking a step forward.

  “She’s fine, Charlie,” Amy argued, stepping to the side so she could meet Brenna’s eyes.

  “Were you telling the truth?” Brenna asked, her voice breaking.

  I was so bloody torn. My little girl looked as if she was about to cry, but Amy’s hand was shaking against my back where she’d clutched my t-shirt in her fist.

  “What’re ya doin’, baby?” Dragon asked as he pushed past Slider.

  Jesus Christ, the entire fuckin’ club would be in my room soon.

  “I just—” tears filled Brenna’s eyes and I was suddenly grateful that Dragon showed up, because he immediately pulled her into his side and I didn’t have to step away from Amy.

  “You ready to go, Mum?” Nix called, making Slider throw his hands in the air and walk away.

  I didn’t blame him. I wished I had locked the fucking door.

  “I—” Amy looked between Phoenix and I, and I knew the instant she stopped being afraid of disappointing the boy in front of her and became his mum again.

  “Sit down, Phoenix,” she said firmly, making his jaw drop. “We’re going to need more chairs—” she glanced around the room, “—and scotch. I need a scotch.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Dragon offered, lifting Brenna’s face to kiss her on the lips before striding out the door.

  I fucking hated when he did that, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t think I’d ever be comfortable with his hands on her, but I’d realized over the last couple of years that he worshipped Brenna. I couldn’t really ask for more than that.

  We watched each other silently until Dragon returned with two chairs, Grease right behind him carrying the Scotch and four glasses.

  “Lock de door on yer way out,” I ordered as Grease left the room.

  “We know you have questions,” Amy said, sitting gingerly on the bed. “And I understand, I do. But to understand it all, we have to start at the beginning.”

  She looked at me with solemn eyes, and once again I saw the girl I’d married all those years ago.

  The loveliest woman I’d ever seen.

  ***

  Amy and I spoke for hours while the children watched and listened.

  She spoke about how it was for her growing up with parents that didn’t care and described the day she’d met my mum, a story I’d never heard before.

  I spoke about Ireland, growing up with my da gone, and studying at University.

  We both spoke about the night we met and the few months before we were married.

  I explained how I’d gotten pulled into fighting for a cause I wasn’t sure I believed in.

  We described our wedding… and our marriage—about how young and full of dreams we’d been.

  Amy described the morning my da died…I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat.

  We went over everything that had happened, both from my point of view and hers… and as we discussed the years apart, I think we both learned about things we hadn’t known or understood before.

  By the time we were finished, the bottle of scotch was gone and I was fucking exhausted.

  “I thought—” Brenna looked down at her thighs, resting on top of Dragon’s lap. “I guess I never knew that my mom—”

  “Don’t go dere,” I warned gently, leaning forward from my perch on the edge of the bed. “I loved yer mum. I did. She gave me ye, and she was a good woman. A great one. But she knew I was married—dere were never any secrets between us.”

  “She knew you were in love with someone else?” she asked dubiously, her hackles rising.

  “Lass, ye were eight when she passed,” I replied tiredly, trying to find the words to put her at ease. “Yer memories of us are dose of a child. Aye, she knew, and she accepted it.”

  “How could she just accept it?”

  “She wasn’t in love wit’ me, eit’er,” I answered, raising my hands palms up.

  Brenna went silent then, and I turned my eyes to Nix. He was sitting close to the door with his arms crossed over his chest. His knuckles were raw and torn, and for the first time since I’d entered my room, I wondered what my face must look like.

  “Do you have any questions, Phoenix?” Amy asked calmly. It seemed the farther into the story we’d gone, the more her natural self-assuredness came forward. It was such an innate part of her. I hated that it had been beaten back over and over again, and I hated even more that I’d been too blind to realize it. The backbone in that woman was amazing, staying strong and straight even as she crumbled.

  “I’m the product of rape,” he replied quietly. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that.”

  “Don’t you ever say that again,” she replied harshly, making him look up in surprise. “You saved me, Phoenix Robert Gallagher. If you hadn’t come along, I would have been dead.”

  My stomach tightened to the point of pain at her words, the memory of her haunted eyes and shaved head like a knife piercing my gut.

  “I don’t understand how you can even look at me,” he mumbled, wiping his hand down his face.

  Amy stood then, her shoulders straight and jaw tight.

  “When I look at you,” she said softly, walking forward to cup Nix’s face in her palms, “I see my salvation. I see the boy who looked at me like I was the miracle. I see the reason I was able to go on living and the sole purpose of my life. You, my son, are not a product of anything but God’s mercy on a broken girl who needed something to hold on to.”

  He sobbed then, just once, and I looked away to give him a small bit of privacy. It was not my place to intrude on them, and as I looked toward Brenna, I saw her crying quietly into Dragon’s neck. He was rubbing her back soothingly, but his jaw was clenched as he stared at the wall.

  Amy and Nix whispered for a few minutes longer before he stood up and took her in his arms. He held her gently, and for the first time I got a glimpse into the way he treated her when it was just the two of them. I knew that a lot of that came from Amy and the way she’d raised him—but it had a lot to do with the man Nix was, too, down to the core of him. He genuinely cared for his mother, not only loved her but liked her, and he was willing to stand up for her no matter the consequences. Christ, he’d beaten the hell out of the vice-president of the Aces Motorcycle Club inside the fucking clubhouse.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, as he let go of his mum. He turned to me then, and looked closely at my face in satisfaction. “I’m not sorry I hit you, you deserved it.”

  “I did,” I replied with a nod, standing up.

  “I don’t understand all this.” He waved his arm around the room. “But I’m willing to keep my mouth shut. She loves you. Still. After everything. And I know you love her, I’ve known it since I was sixteen.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I need—I just need to get out of here for a while.”

  “Ye okay to drive?” I asked before I could stop myself. Shit, he didn’t want me worrying about him, and I was on very thin ice as it was.

  His mouth twitched in an almost smile and nodded before walking out of the room.

  “We’re going to head out, too,” Dragon said, pushing Brenna to her feet. I was glad to see she’d gotten the tears under control because I was barely hanging onto my own as it was.

  “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through,” Brenna said kindly to Amy, taking a step forward. “And
I want you to know that I remember what you did for me.”

  Amy nodded, swallowing harshly.

  “You didn’t have to do that, but you did. You helped me escape.” Brenna shook her head. “You’ll never know how much that means to me. I don’t know if I would have done the same.”

  “You would have,” Amy replied with conviction. “If the man you loved had a child, you’d do anything to protect her.”

  “But I was the reason—”

  “You weren’t the reason for anything, sweetheart,” Amy interrupted. “I won’t lie and say that I didn’t resent you at first—I did. But I got over it pretty fucking quick, because blaming a person for being born is asinine. That’s like blaming the sun for shining during a hangover.”

  Brenna chuffed out a surprised laugh. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Brenna moved to me, and I couldn’t believe the feeling of relief I felt as I held her in my arms. I’d pushed it down, refusing to give it voice, but I’d been terrified that once she’d known everything, she’d hate me. I was not the hero she’d believed me to be as a child—I was a man, and not a good one.

  “I’m so sorry for everything you went through,” she said again, this time into my ear.

  “No, I—”

  “You may not have lived through it, but I know that you’re going to deal with a lot of guilt… probably for the rest of your life. If something happened to Dragon, I don’t know how I’d deal.” Her arms tightened around my waist. “I love you, Pop, and I’m sorry that you had to live for thirty years without the woman you love. The thought of being without Dragon guts me, I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.”

  “I love ye, too, lass,” I whispered past the lump forming in my throat.

  I’d felt the urge to cry more times in the past six hours than I had in twenty years.

  I understood that everyone made choices that they later regretted, some large and some small. It was human to get it wrong, to not see the larger picture until it was too late. But I didn’t know how to reconcile that with the decisions I’d made.

  “I’m not sleeping in those sheets,” Amy told me quietly after everyone was gone. “They smell like some teeny-bopper store at the mall.”

  My shoulders slumped as I remembered the scene she’d walked into when she first got there. Christ, I couldn’t get anything right.

  “I didn’t fuck her,” I replied, making Amy flinch.

  “It is what it is, right?” she sighed, looking around the room. “But if it happens—”

  “Of course it won’t—”

  “I’ll leave you, Patrick.” She said solemnly. “I can’t take any more. I can’t.”

  I stepped forward and jerked the sheets and blankets off the bed, rolling them into a ball and tossing them in the hallway. I’d make a prospect wash them in the morning… or burn them.

  “I don’t want anyone but ye,” I told her, pulling two of the quilts Mum had made me out of a chest against the wall and laying them flat on the bed. I paused, suddenly ashamed that I didn’t have somewhere nicer for her to sleep. “Honest to God, Amy? I don’t see anyone but ye.”

  She nodded and slipped her skirt down her hips, making my breath catch in my throat. Her legs were long and strong, and she was wearing the same little shorts that she’d had on the last time I’d seen her.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have somewhere better for ye to sleep,” I murmured, clenching my jaw as she climbed in between the quilts. “I’ll find a place—”

  “This is fine, baby,” she replied, relaxing into the bed.

  Baby.

  My chest grew so tight as she watched me that I couldn’t breathe. She was in my bed. I didn’t deserve for her to even glance in my direction on the street, and there she was, in my bed.

  “Go clean up, Patrick,” she said gently as I stood there staring. “You’ve got blood all over you.”

  “Aye,” I mumbled, my gaze searching the room blankly.

  “Bathroom,” she reminded me. “Next time, I’ll help you… this time you can do it on your own.”

  I stumbled into the bathroom, and finally gave into the nausea that refused to calm. I’d been swallowing repeatedly for what felt like hours, able to control my body by refusing to acknowledge the churning in my gut. I could no longer do so.

  I heaved and heaved until nothing was left, and then I heaved some more, tears rolling down my cheeks.

  I’d been so confident when I’d left Ireland, so unbelievably arrogant in my assumption that my sins wouldn’t catch up to us. I’d assumed that we’d be safe, never imagining that in the few days between our departures, Amy would be the one paying for my mistakes… I hated myself for that.

  The details of Amy’s attack and the memory of Malcolm’s large frame in comparison to her small one made me livid, and before I was even done vomiting, I was tearing apart the room.

  My fist went through the mirror and shattered the shower door.

  I kicked through the flimsy cupboard doors between the sink.

  I ripped the seat off the toilet and threw it through the small window.

  “Poet!” Slider yelled through the door, breaking me out of my haze. “You stupid son of a bitch, you’re already busted all to hell. You’re gonna die of a heart attack if you don’t calm your shit, ya old fuck!”

  My chest was heaving as I threw open the door, and Slider’s eyes widened as he got a good look at the destruction I’d caused. “Needed to remodel, anyway,” he said calmly, reaching out to grab my arm and lead me toward his room. “You can use our shower. Vera’s out cold, she won’t even notice ya.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I confessed, looking at the ground as we reached the door to their room.

  “Ya get a handle on your shit, and ya take care of your woman, ya stupid mick,” he replied sternly. “This ain’t about you. This is about Amy. So you make sure she’s got what she needs. The rest will sort itself out.”

  “How do I know what she needs, man? I fucked up so badly, I t’ink—”

  “Stop thinkin’, you’re actin’ like an asshole.” He shook his head and leaned against the wall. “Ya remember when Farrah’s ma came and took her away from us?”

  “Dat’s not—”

  “It sure as shit is not the fuckin’ same, you’re right about that.” He scratched his jaw and looked away from me. “My woman went through a different type of pain, but pain all the same. Poppin’ pills and drinkin’ until I’d find her passed out in the hallway… like she’d just hit her limit and hit the floor. Lockin’ herself in her room until I had to break the door down with a fuckin’ axe so she didn’t overdose in there alone. Fuck, I didn’t know what to do. I finally realized, though, they don’t need ya to do anything, man.”

  “I hadn’t known,” I mumbled, shaking my head. “Moira never said shite about Malcolm, not one fuckin’ word. All dese years and I hadn’t known dat he’d done dat to Amy because of me. He fuckin’ tortured her, Charlie.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight, brother,” Slider said, pushing off the wall to stand in front of me. “Malcolm was a sick fuck. That’s not on you. You were the catalyst, and I know that eats ya up—and I understand it, I really do. But ya did what ya thought best at the time, and ya can’t go back and change it. It’s what ya do now that matters, understand?”

  “Yeah,” I answered with a nod, not agreeing with anything, but too tired to argue.

  “Now, brother, you need a fuckin’ shower and to get back in with your woman.” He slapped me on the back and I grimaced as it jostled my ribs. “Eyes off the bed, Vera’s naked.”

  I followed him into his bathroom and hopped in the shower, washing the blood out of my beard and hair. Thank God I had a high tolerance for pain or there was a good chance the last few hours would have gone very differently. It was a wonder that I was still awake and functioning.

  I had a small wound on the back of my head where I must have hit a table, my lips were swolle
n, there was a small cut on my cheek and one on the bridge of my nose, and I knew for certain that one of my ribs was bruised, if not broken.

  Phoenix had kicked my arse.

  Good boy.

  After I finished, I walked quietly back out of their room without seeing Vera’s or Slider’s bare asses, not that I hadn’t seen them both before on different occasions over the years. Living in such close quarters with people, especially drunk people, meant that you walked in pretty regularly on things you’d rather not see.

  When I finally reached the door to my room, I saw that Amy had scooted toward the wall, leaving me space on the outside of the bed. At least, I thought that’s what she had done. She was asleep, and the tension lines around her mouth and eyes had finally softened.

  I wanted to pick her up and hold her to me, reminding myself that she was there with me, that she was safe, but I didn’t.

  I knew how exhausted she was, and if she was able to sleep, I wouldn’t interfere. She’d relived the worst and best parts of her life all in a couple of hours. She deserved the relief.

  I pulled on a pair of sweatpants I hadn’t worn in fifteen years, and sat down on the floor with my back against the side of the bed. There was no way I’d be able to sleep that night.

  Instead, my mind drifted over thirty years of memories. It hadn’t been all bad, not at all, but I couldn’t see how good memories could ever overshadow the bad ones.

  I tipped my head back against the bed and stared blankly at the ceiling.

  Chapter 55

  Amy

  I woke up disoriented but warm, and was surprised to see nothing but Patrick’s head resting beside me on the bed.

  The past twenty-four hours had tested me in ways I didn’t understand. I’d watched as I destroyed Patrick with the same poison that had been pulsing through me for years, I’d had to tell my son the truth of his birth—something I’d planned to take to the grave—and then I’d watched as Patrick had told our children his part in all of the horrible things that had happened so long ago, knowing that they could hate him for it, but still not willing to make any excuses.