Craving Resurrection

  It felt as if things had come full circle as we’d sat in the room with both of our children the night before—like that’s where we were always meant to end up.

  I wanted that to be our future with a fervency that I felt in my bones and a calm sense of acceptance. I was finally in the exact place I was supposed to be.

  I relaxed back into the pillow and reached out to run my fingers over his soft hair. It was so long now, and he hadn’t brushed it back into a ponytail before he’d fallen asleep, so it was pooled around his head on the quilt.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly, keeping his head where I could reach it.

  “Why are you on the floor?” I asked, equally as quiet.

  It was early, the sun barely shining through the sheet covering his window, and the rest of the club was still sleeping, making the morning silent around us.

  “Couldn’t sleep, didn’t know if ye wanted me in dere wit’ ye.”

  “I did.”

  His head nodded slightly. “Couldn’t lay beside ye last night. Too many demons to take into bed wit’ ye.”

  “You’ll have to get over that,” I reprimanded, scratching my nails over his scalp gently. “I won’t be sleeping alone again.”

  His body turned then, and I got a good look at his face. He’d never before looked old to me, but he did in that moment. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks and lips were still swollen, hidden partially by a wild beard that he must have been scrubbing at for most of the night. I noticed for the first time that the patch of hair just below his bottom lip had turned blonde, almost white, and it was a glaring reminder of just how much time we’d missed.

  “Yer sure?” he asked, searching my eyes. “De last time we… Amy, ye cried, me love.”

  “I was overwhelmed and exhausted, Patrick, I promise it wasn’t anything more than that. I’ve lived too long without you already,” I answered, grabbing his hand to pull him into bed with me. “I don’t want to go another day.”

  “T’ank God,” he said raggedly, pulling me against him and pressing his face into my throat.”

  “I’m sorry I covered my anchor,” I said after a few moments of silence. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I cried the entire time.”

  “Did ye see what he covered it wit’?” he asked, his voice full of suppressed amusement.

  “Not until he was done,” I confessed sheepishly, “I didn’t really care what he did as long as he covered it.”

  “Yer tattoo man had a sense of humor.”

  “Why?” I asked, lifting my hand up so I could look at the raw tattoo. I’d barely glanced at it once it was done, choosing instead to cover it with the ointment without looking.

  “He covered it wit’ a Claddagh ring, me love,” he answered with a snort. “May as well have kept de anchor.”

  “Motherfucker.”

  “Only ye would cover up a tattoo of love wit’ anot’er of de same,” he said with a smile, leaning up until our faces were level.

  “I can’t believe he did that. What a dick!”

  “Are ye really angry about it?” he asked in surprise.

  “No, not really.” My face heated in a blush at the way he was looking at me.

  Like I was the best thing he’d ever seen.

  “I don’t want to be apart from ye, not even for a moment,” he said seriously. “If ye feel de same, we need to make plans—”

  “I’ll move here,” I said instantly, making his head jerk back in surprise.

  “What?”

  “Nix is the only thing I have in Portland, and he comes here already to visit you. He can do the same for me.”

  “But yer shop.”

  “I’ll sell it. Shit, Patrick, people do yoga everywhere, not just Portland.”

  “Are ye sure?”

  “I don’t want to be apart from you, not even for a moment.” I echoed his words.

  “I love ye more den ye can possibly imagine,” he whispered, dropping his forehead to mine with a shuddering breath.

  “Kiss me, husband,” I whispered back, smiling against his lips as he groaned.

  Epilogue

  Amy

  Two months later

  “Yer arse is going to kill me,” Patrick groaned, squeezing my ass in his palms as he slid into me from behind. “Grab a hold of de headboard.”

  I moaned as I reached up and grabbed the headboard of the heavy oak bed we’d picked up the day before.

  Patrick had bought a house less than a week after I’d agreed to move to Eugene and had started working on making it a home as I’d packed up my old apartment and sold my yoga business to Kali. We took our time, spending our nights between both places, until the day before, when I’d finally handed over my keys to both the shop and my apartment.

  We hadn’t spent even one night apart, and I had no regrets.

  “Getting tired, old man?” I asked breathlessly as Patrick’s body bent and his hand hit the headboard above mine.

  “I’ll never be too tired to fuck ye,” he gasped, grabbing a hold of my hair to turn my face gently toward his. His hips thrust hard, and my back arched even further.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured against my lips before letting go and sliding his hand down my torso. “Goin’ to be more beautiful in just a moment…”

  His fingers found my clitoris gently, barely rubbing against the nerves that were so past the point of sensitive that it was almost painful. After a few thrusts, though, they fired back to life, and I was rolling my hips against his hand, almost unseating him with the movement.

  It didn’t take long before my body stiffened, then shuddered as I came around him wetly.

  “Lovely,” he whispered in my ear, running his hand back up my body until his first two fingers met my lips. “Suck.”

  He growled as I took the fingers into my mouth, and his hips began to jerk as he followed me over the edge.

  We collapsed onto the bed in a sweaty heap, and I couldn’t keep the smile off of my face. Even after all those years, we still had it.

  “I may not be too old to fuck ye, but yer gonna have to do all the work from now on,” he gasped and started laughing.

  “Good luck with that,” I retorted, smacking his chest with the back of my hand before dragging myself out of the bed.

  “Where are ye going?”

  “I need to clean up and get ready. Everyone’s going to be here in two hours.” I walked into the bathroom connected to our bedroom and caught sight of myself in the mirror.

  “Nix still planning on driving down?” he called cautiously.

  My heart clenched at his tone, and I took a deep breath against my irritation over my son. Even months later, Nix was still having a hard time with all that he’d learned. He visited me, and tried to act like everything was okay, but it wasn’t. He’d broken up with Mat for some ridiculous reason, he was working out so much that he looked like he was going to split every shirt he wore, and he still had a hard time being in the same room as Patrick.

  It killed me to see the way Patrick’s eyes lit up at the sight of my son, then slowly dimmed the longer they were together.

  I had to have faith it would get better. I had to.

  “He said he’ll be here,” I confirmed, looking at myself in the mirror.

  My dreadlocks had grown out and needed to be tightened, but the longer I looked at them, the less I wanted to go to the trouble. Patrick’s hands were always in my hair, and he didn’t seem to mind the fact that he couldn’t run his fingers through it, but all of a sudden I minded.

  “What are ye doin’ so quiet in here?” my husband asked, stepping in behind me.

  “Did you know that Leo put one of these,” I grabbed a lock and flicked it, “into his mouth the other day and I didn’t even realize it until it was soaking wet?”

  “Dat boy puts fuckin’ everyt’in’ in his mouth,” he replied with a chuckle, wrapping his arms around my waist

  “I want to cut them off,” I announced meeting his eyes in the m
irror.

  “What?”

  “Do you have clippers?”

  “What?”

  “Patrick, pay attention!” He was looking at me like I had two heads.

  “Aye, I have clippers—not dat I’ve ever used dem.”

  “We’ll have to cut them first,” I said quietly, chewing the inside of my cheek.

  “I’ve got some brand new yard clippers for dose roses out front,” he informed me quietly. He knew about my aversion to scissors and had thrown out every pair he owned.

  “Get them.”

  I sat on the toilet while he got everything ready, trying to calm my nerves. It was just hair. It was just hair and I’d begun to hate how heavy it was. I wanted it gone. I did.

  “Are ye sure?” Patrick asked as he set the electric beard trimmers and the yard clippers on the counter.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” I answered more confidently than I felt. “Can you do it?”

  “I don’t know dat—”

  “Please, Patrick.”

  He nodded, his jaw clenched, as he leaned down to kiss me.

  “I’ll just cut dem first, alright?” he asked nervously, ‘Den we’ll use the trimmers after.”

  His nervousness had the opposite effect on me, calming my own nerves. “Do it,” I ordered.

  I sat up straight as he clipped the dreadlocks, never brushing my head with the clippers. The fact that he was so very careful to not bring back any memories soothed me even more as he moved over my head.

  “All done, do ye want to take a look before I—”

  “No,” I interrupted, clasping my hands tightly on my lap. “No, just do it.”

  He leaned down and tipped my chin up with his fingers, kissing me with an intensity that had my heart racing in my chest. “Almost done, my love,” he murmured into my mouth.

  The beard trimmers made a buzzing noise as he turned them on, and I closed my eyes tightly as I felt the first drag catch on the short knot of hair. After that, the noise became almost soothing, and my body relaxed before he’d finished.

  “All done,” Patrick told me hoarsely, clearing his throat.

  I glanced up to see tears in his eyes, but I didn’t mention them. He was trying very hard to act unaffected, and if I said anything about it, I knew I’d make it worse.

  I stood from the toilet and stepped in front of the mirror. The sight that met my eyes made a sob bubble out of my throat.

  I remembered this.

  “I’m sorry,” Patrick said quietly.

  “I asked you to,” I replied, reaching up to feel the short stubble that covered my head. “I should have waited until after the barbeque… everyone is going to stare.”

  The trimmers started up again, and I turned in surprise as he ran them up his jaw, wincing as they caught in the long hair, but not stopping until he’d run it into the long hair above his temple.

  “What the fuck?” I asked, my jaw hanging.

  “Ye’ll have to do mine now, won’t ye?” he replied with a small grin.

  “You’re insane.”

  “Where ye go, I go,” he replied seriously.

  ***

  “Holy shit, Pop! What the hell did you do to your hair?” Brenna yelled as she ushered her family into the house.

  “Nan, too!” Trix screamed. “I wanna cut my hair!”

  “Not gonna happen,” Dragon said gruffly as he passed by Brenna to give me a hug. “Lookin’ good,” he murmured into my ear before letting go.

  “Whoa, you both did it,” Brenna said, looking back and forth between us.

  “Small mishap wit’ de trimmers,” Patrick said with a smirk, his innuendo making Brenna pretend to gag.

  “Nan, I wanna go in the pool,” Trix said, wrapping her arm around my leg. “Can we go in the pool?”

  “Let’s eat first kiddo, alright?”

  Her whole body slumped until my leg was holding her weight and I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me.

  “Nan, huh?” I asked Brenna as she leaned in to hug me.

  “Hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Don’t worry, everyone, the party has arrived!” Farrah called out as more people entered the house. Her face showed surprise as she got a good look at me, then she tilted her head. “Dig the hair.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Holy fuck, Poet!” she gasped as she did a double take.

  “Sorry, we’re still working on appropriate words,” Casper grumbled, covering Farrah’s mouth with his hand. “Little ears, Ladybug. Cam! Get your sister, man, she’s trying to eat that plant!”

  “I got her,” Callie called, picking up Cecilia with her free arm, the other holding a tiny baby in a light green blanket.

  “All the food is outside,” I called over the noise of kids and adults talking over each other as if they hadn’t seen each other in years instead of hours.

  They moved like a wave toward the back of the house, except for one person that I’d come to know pretty well in the past couple of months.

  “Thanks for coming, Rose,” I said with a smile as she reached me, holding a bowl of some type of salad in her hands. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”

  “Be rude to eat your food and not contribute,” she said with a grin before her face grew serious again. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, self-consciously running my hand over my hair.

  “It’s not the hair,” she said, reaching out to grasp my hand and squeeze it. “It’s the face.”

  She moved past me with a smile, and I turned back toward the front door that my son had just passed through.

  “Hey, kiddo,” I called, walking toward him.

  “Hey, Mum. Place looks good,” he said with a smile, leaning down to hug me. “Brought you something.”

  He handed me a wrapped gift, and I looked at him in surprise. “You didn’t have to bring me anything.”

  “I think you’ll like it,” he replied with a smile. “Hey, Trick, nice to see you.”

  I watched them reach forward and shake hands, and felt an overwhelming sense of relief at Nix’s open expression. It wasn’t the same as it was before, but they’d get there eventually.

  “Well?” Nix asked, turning back to me. “Open it.”

  I ripped open the wrapping, then fumbled, almost dropping the frame as I realized what it held.

  “I think that’s the only one,” Nix explained. “I found it in Nan’s things about a year after she passed, and I put it aside. You know, just in case you found it and—”

  “Ye did good, boyo,” Patrick said softly, reaching out to hug Nix tightly. “Real good.”

  I stared down at the photo of me and Patrick on our wedding day, and couldn’t stop the tears that hit my eyes.

  We were so young then.

  Happy.

  “Thank you, son,” I said, finally looking away from the picture. “This is awesome.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied with a wide smile, obviously proud of himself. “Grease outside? I wanted to see if he’d check out my bike while I was here.”

  “Yeah, he’s out back. Are you staying the night?”

  “Probably at Grease and Callie’s.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  With another smile, he left us, and I walked to the window facing the back yard to watch him say hello to everyone. He was so comfortable in the group, like he’d known them his entire life.

  “Good photo,” Patrick murmured, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

  “Great photo,” I agreed.

  “Shall we go get some food?”

  “No, let’s just stay here for a second, okay, baby?”

  “Alright, my love.”

  We stood there and watched our family for a while longer, talking and laughing and teasing each other. The kids ran around like maniacs, screeching, and Rose sat off to the side, a small smile on her face.

  Without thought, he’d given me exactly what he’d promised. r />
  Four boys.

  A little house with a garden.

  Everything I’d ever wanted.

  Acknowledgements

  Mom and Dad: As always, thanks for the coffee and babysitting! Let’s do this again soon

  My girlies: Thanks for being patient with me. I know it’s annoying when you have to go to bed early on the weekends so mom can work! You two are by far my best accomplishments.

  Sisters: Love you.

  Toni: Thanks for listening to me ramble and complain and bounce around ideas. Now get to work, so I can do the same thing for you.

  Ashley: You rock dude. Thanks for never sleeping so I can write you in the middle of the night and you respond in seconds. I would have lost my mind without you.

  Donna: You’re going to get an acknowledgement in every single book I write- because without you, this book wouldn’t even be written… or it would still be an unfinished novella. You keep me on track, and I’m sure dealing with me is a lot like herding cats, but you’re still patient and you still kick me in the tush to get me moving. You’ve been in my corner from the very beginning—I won’t ever forget that.

  My Betas: Kimberly, Gina, Tracy, and Aunt Deana- thanks for your input, your eagle eyes…and your crying voice messages. I needed those. Ha!

  Nikki: Thanks for going over CRes with a fine-tooth comb. You practically spit shined this book, and it’s a thousand times better because of your help.

  My cover models who shall not be named: You guys went out of your comfort zone and totally kicked ass. Thank you so much.

  Kara and Sommer: Once again, you’ve made my cover a thing of beauty. Thank you.

  Dani: Thanks for always stepping up and making my chapter headings and paragraphs look awesome. You’re usually working under a tight deadline, and you always come through.

  Bloggers: Thanks for signing up, every time, to read and review my books. I know that blogging takes a lot of time and effort, and I hope you know that I appreciate every single word you write.

  And you, person who’s reading this: Thank you for reading Craving Resurrection. I hope you loved it. I hope it made your stomach churn and your heart race. I hope you loved Patrick and Amy as much as I do. Stick with me kid—I’ve got more up my sleeve.