Craving Resurrection

  “Yer mum gave me a ring, said ye’d be home tonight. Wanted me to check in, make sure ye were safe, eh?” he answered, raising his hands in front of him, palms up.

  “Well, I’m fine. You can go.”

  “No hurry.” He shrugged, then turned his face toward the kitchen, “Somet’in’ smells good.”

  “I was actually just getting ready to leave, so…” My natural politeness kept me from yelling at him to get the fuck out, but my hands had begun to tremble in uncertainty as he looked me over.

  His smile was charming, and I knew he was trying to seem as unthreatening as possible, but the fact that I remembered his voice had me choking back my revulsion. He needed to leave. He needed to get out of my house.

  “Hey, hey, no need to be nervous, darlin’,” he cooed gently, stepping toward me. “Yer mum told me it was yer first time. We can go slow.”

  He reached out to lay a hand on my shoulder, and I made a strangled sound in my throat at the implication, jerking away.

  No. My parents were neglectful, sure, but she wouldn’t send a prostitute to our house when they weren’t home. They’d always made sure I was safe. I shook my head in denial. He was wrong. He was lying.

  “I want you to leave. Right now.” I ordered quietly, my voice trembling.

  “Let’s talk a bit first, eh?”

  “I don’t want to talk. Leave.” As he stepped closer, I braced myself, refusing to step any farther back for fear he’d follow me and move even deeper into the house.

  “I’ve been paid for de whole night, love,” he assured me, “So we’ll just do dis at yer pace.”

  Oh, God, he’d been paid?

  My eyes began to water as he came closer, his persistence making me feel like a cornered animal. I didn’t want him near me. Why wasn’t he leaving like I’d asked him?

  I don’t know why I didn’t fight harder, why I didn’t scream at the top of my lungs and run for the front door. Maybe it was because I’d never before been in a position where I had to fight. I’d never imagined myself in that scenario, so I hadn’t had time to prepare. And in all honesty, I didn’t believe that he’d actually force me to do something I didn’t want. I was in complete denial, even though my gut was screaming for me to do something.

  He’d just wrapped his fingers around my hip when I heard a noise from the front door.

  “Amy, me love, is dinner ready?”

  I’d never been so happy to see someone in my entire life.

  Patrick swung the front door open as if he owned the place and stepped inside, his body seeming even larger than the last time I’d seen him just hours before. He’d changed too, wearing old slip-on sneakers, baggy jean shorts and a white tank top that highlighted the defined muscles of his chest, shoulders and arms. Holy hell.

  “I’ll t’ank ye to take yer hands off me girl,” Patrick growled ominously as he took in the scene.

  The man’s hand pulled away so quickly it was as if I could feel the air shift with his movement.

  “It’s just business, mate,” the guy replied, taking a step back.

  “Well, I know she doesn’t need any of yer business, so get de fuck out.” Patrick’s voice had become even darker, and I could see his hands clenching and unclenching as they hung at his side.

  “Yeah, okay. No problem.”

  The man scrambled for the door, practically tripping over his own feet, but before he left Patrick called out to him again.

  “Ye take yer money and ye don’t say a fuckin’ word.”

  “Alright.” He nodded.

  He was gone within seconds, and I felt my whole body begin to shake as the door slammed behind him.

  “De fuck was dat?” Patrick roared at me, his voice echoing against the walls.

  “I don’t know!”

  “Ye don’t know?”

  “He just showed up!” I was trying to keep it together. I wanted to yell at him for being such an asshole…but I couldn’t. I was just so grateful he’d shown up when he did. And I didn’t care if it meant I was a wimp, or weak, or a complete idiot, I wanted him to fucking hold me so I could physically feel that everything was okay.

  “Why de fuck did ye let him into yer goddamn house?”

  “I didn’t! I just—he—and then—” I was trying to explain it. I could hear the words in my head very clearly, but I just couldn’t get them out. And then, finally, the damn broke and my teeth began to chatter as my eyes overflowed.

  “Aw, sweetheart.” Patrick sighed and came toward me, wrapping his arms around me tightly with one hand at my back and the other at the nape of my neck. “Shhh, it’s okay now, love. Yer okay. Shhh.”

  “He scared the crap out of me!” I screeched into his chest. “Fuck!”

  I felt him huff a small laugh into my hair at my outburst.

  “I bet.” He mumbled, “Fuckin’ manky bastard.”

  I took a deep breath and leaned back. “I’m done. Holy shit. I’m fine, I’m okay.” I laughed self-deprecatingly. “It’s not like anything happened. Right? I’m such a fucking whiner.”

  “Ye know him, baby?” he asked gently, smoothing my hair away from my face with one hand as he kept me secured against him.

  “No, I mean I recognized his voice, I think…”

  “Den ye’ve no reason to be embarrassed for bein’ a bit frightened. Mum told me about yer folks. He’s in wit’ dem, ye’ve got good reason to be worried.” He warned, “I could fuckin’ kill ye for lettin’ him in de door.”

  “He just sort of pushed his way in…”

  His head turned toward the door and he stared at it silently for a moment, before completely changing the subject.

  “Ye cooked?” he asked with a quirked brow, his dimple peeking out as his lips tipped up.

  “It’s just beef stew. It’s one of the recipes I know by heart.” I pulled out of his arms and walked toward the kitchen. “But you don’t get any.”

  “Why de hell not?”

  “You were a total dick earlier!”

  “Ah, was gonna come over and apologize… again. Was plannin’ on doin’ it in a bit, but den yer man showed up.”

  “He’s not my anything.”

  “Sounded like he wanted to be yer first,” he argued with a snicker.

  “Oh, my God! Now you really can’t have any, you asshole.”

  “I’m kiddin’ wit’ ye, girl. No need to get yer knickers in a twist.”

  “Has Peg eaten? I was going to see if she wanted some of this. I’m not sure how to cut the recipe down far enough to feed less than four people,” I replied, completely ignoring the knickers comment. I turned the burner off and grabbed a couple dishtowels to lift the heavy pot off the stove. “I can just carry it over there.”

  He moved in behind me as I was talking and before I could grasp the handles, he was pulling me away. “Ye’ll not carry a heavy pot of hot stew all de way to me mum’s, ye eejit.” Then he lifted the stew as if it weighed nothing and motioned with his head to get me moving.

  When we got outside, I locked the front door while he waited patiently. He was watching me like a hawk, but his face was completely relaxed. It was odd.

  “Do I have something on my face?” I asked, wiping at my mouth and cheeks as I joined him on the sidewalk and we began to walk. “Why were you just staring at me?”

  “Just glad I was dere, is all,” he answered in a low voice. “I’ll keep an eye out, alright? Ye won’t be bot’ered again.”

  “Thank you.” I swallowed loudly. “I mean, I don’t think he’d come back. Do you?”

  “No tellin’. Ye’ll stay at our place tonight, no reason for ye to sleep in dat house alone while yer folks are gone—”

  “I’d like to argue, but I don’t really want to stay there by myself,” I confessed sheepishly.

  “Wit’ good reason. Dose locks are shite.” He shook his head as I climbed the steps ahead of him and opened Peg’s front door.

  “I can’t stay here forever, though.”

  “I’l
l make sure yer safe, even if I’m not here,” he said, passing me carefully so he wouldn’t burn me with the pot. Then he paused and turned his head to meet my eyes. “I’ll not let anyt'in’ happen to ye,” he promised.

  I nodded slowly, my eyes never leaving his. It was an asinine promise; he was away at school most of the time and my own parents were the ones who put me in that situation in the first place. But even though it had been only hours since we’d met and most of that time I’d spent completely pissed off because he was an asshole… I still believed every word he said.

  “Are ye alright, dear?” Peg asked, hopping off the couch as we made our way inside.

  “I’m fine, I made dinner—”

  “What happened, why was that man—”

  “Leave it, Mum,” Patrick cut her off sternly.

  “But Patrick—”

  “I said to leave it.” He stared at Peg in some sort of silent communication that I didn’t understand. Then, to my surprise, she relented. Just like that.

  “Well, I’m glad yer here,” she said with a smile, “And ye brought dinner!”

  She ushered me into the kitchen, chattering about nothing in particular, and I felt myself beginning to relax. There was just something about her that automatically put me at ease—as if nothing bad would happen as long as I was with her. As we sat down to eat, things grew more and more comfortable. They didn’t bring up anything that had happened that evening, choosing instead to tell funny stories and local gossip. It was the best dinner I’d ever had.

  “Well, do ye want to go or not?” Patrick asked as I stared at my empty bowl.

  “What?” I’d been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t even heard the first question.

  “I’m goin’ to meet up wit’ some lads to play basketball. Ye want to come?”

  “Basketball?”

  “Dat’s what I just said. Ye a parrot?”

  “You’re such a dick!”

  “Jesus Christ—fuck, Ma!”

  “Don’t ye use that language in my house, Patrick Gallagher!” Peg scolded as she tried to flick Patrick in the head again.

  “Fine!” He stood from the table. “Let’s go.”

  “To play basketball?” I still didn’t understand. He was the least likely person I could see playing the game. I mean, he had a silver chain clipped to a belt loop on his pants that hung in an arc to the wallet in his back pocket… a chain, for God’s sake.

  “Kevie goin’ to be there?” Peg asked as she took our bowls to the sink.

  “Yeah, should be.” He was still freaking looking at me.

  “Go, then,” she said to me with a smile. “Get out of here for a bit, yeah?”

  Chapter 6

  Amy

  The neighborhood had an outside basketball court that I’d never noticed before. It was only four blocks away, but it wasn’t on my route to school so it wasn’t surprising that I hadn’t seen it. I barely left the house unless I was going to the grocery store or school. God, that was pathetic.

  When we got there, I was surprised to see just one guy waiting for us, dribbling a basketball between his hands. He was shorter than Patrick, but not by much, and he had blonde hair that was cut conservatively short. He was dressed for the game in track pants and a grey t-shirt, and when he saw us coming, his face lit up in a bright smile.

  “Trick!” he yelled happily, walking quickly toward Patrick and wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. I heard their murmuring, but couldn’t make out what they were saying as I followed slowly behind Patrick, and by the time I’d caught up to them, they’d turn to face me, one of Patrick’s slung around the other guy’s shoulders.

  “Dis is Amy,” Patrick introduced, “Amy—Kevie. Stay away from him, he’s a total arsehole.”

  “Ye cretin,” Kevie replied, shoving Patrick away. “Hello, Amy. It’s nice to meet ye.”

  He held out his hand to shake, but before I could lift my own, Patrick was knocking Kevie’s down. “None o’dat.”

  We looked at him like he’d lost his mind, but Patrick’s face was implacable.

  “I cannot shake her hand?” Kevie asked dubiously, his eyebrows meeting in the middle of his forehead.

  “Ye’ll not touch her.”

  I knew my mouth was hanging open. I knew it, and I couldn’t seem to close it as Patrick reached for my arm and pulled me to his side.

  “Patrick—” Kevie was trying not to laugh, but he couldn’t hide the smile causing his cheeks to twitch.

  “Save it.” Patrick ordered before turning to me. “Sit over here, yeah?” he asked, his voice gentling. I followed him for a moment, before turning my head back to Kevie.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too!” I called out, then stumbled as Patrick jerked me forward and spun me to face him.

  “Don’t,” he said quietly, his face dipping down to mine until they were almost touching.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I shouldn’t have brought ye here,” he mumbled, his eyes sweeping over my face.

  “Then I’ll go back! God, why do I keep giving you chances to not be a dick?” I tried to pull away, but his hand came up and tangled in my hair.

  “I don’t want him lookin’ at ye, I don’t want him touchin’ ye. I shouldn’t have brought ye. I should have left ye wit’ me mum.”

  “Is he bad? He seems nice.” I rose to my toes to try and see clean-cut Kevie over Patrick’s shoulder.

  “Keep yer eyes on me.”

  “You’re being an idiot. What the hell?” I reached up to try and untangle his fingers from my hair. I wanted to leave. The whole situation was just weird. He was acting like I was stripping or something, like that Kevie guy was going to lay me on the cracked asphalt and have his wicked— oh, shit. He was jealous.

  “You’re jealous?” I asked incredulously. “Are you out of your freaking mind?”

  “I’m not fuckin’ jealous!”

  “Oh, yeah. Yeah, you are.” I snorted.

  “Yer such a pain in me arse! And don’t snort, it makes ye sound like a pig.”

  “I bet Kevie would like if I snorted,” I answered snottily, “Hey Kev—”

  His hand slid out of my hair and covered my mouth before I could finish my sentence. I could hear Kevie laughing like we were the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

  “Shut yer trap!” Patrick yelled back to him.

  “God, why de fuck do I give a shite what yer doin’?” he asked under his breath. He looked so confused that I felt a little sorry for him. “Just sit dere, alright? I’ll come get ye when I’m done.”

  His hand slipped away from my face and down my neck as I swallowed hard.

  “I’m supposed to just sit here?”

  “Ye can watch.”

  “Oh, joy.”

  “Can ye just shut de fuck up for two seconds?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Yer—argh!”

  He stomped away, pushing Kevie hard when he reached him and stealing the basketball out of his hands.

  I was surprised at how fluidly they moved when they started the game. They weren’t playing for points, and as long as Kevie didn’t glance in my direction, they didn’t play aggressively, either. It was more choreographed than that. They moved around each other like they’d done it a million times before, blocking and dribbling and shooting the ball through a hoop with an old chain net.

  By the time they were finished, the sky was growing dark and my ass had long since gone numb. Patrick had also taken off his shirt. Damn.

  “Ye ready?” he asked as he pulled the tank top from his waistband and wiped his face with it.

  “I was born ready.” I groaned and rubbed my butt as I stood up.

  “Ye need some help wit’ dat?” he replied with a smirk.

  “No, I do not. Oh, hey, Kev—” My voice was sickly sweet as my eyes met Kevie’s and before I could finish my sentence, Patrick had stepped forward and threw his shoulder into my belly, slinging me up until I was hanging over his back like a s
ack of potatoes.

  “Let me down, asshole!” I yelled. “It was sooo nice to meet you, Kevie! We should do some—” I stopped on a startled breath when Patrick slapped my ass hard. Well, at least it wasn’t numb anymore.

  “Nice to meet ye, too, darlin’,” Kevie told me with a smile, stepping back as Patrick spun around. “Yer losin’ it, Trick.”

  “Christ.” Patrick’s hand tensed on my thigh. “I fuckin’ know. I’ll see ye soon, yeah?”

  “Sunday?”

  “Fuck off.”

  Patrick began walking away as Kevie’s laugh echoed around the court. By the time we’d hit the second block, I was beginning to feel nauseous and the urge to lick Patrick’s sweaty back as it flexed beneath me was becoming hard to ignore.

  “Can you let me down already?” I asked calmly. “It’s getting a little uncomfortable up here.”

  “Shite,” he grumbled, sliding me down the front of his body. “Sorry, I probably smell like crap.”

  “You smell fine, but you’re acting like a lunatic.” I brushed my hands down my shirt and began to walk. “What the hell was that?”

  “I don’t fuckin’ know.” His cheeks were flushed scarlet as he glanced at me. “I didn’t want him to touch ye.”

  “Yeah, I got that,” I replied dryly. “It still didn’t make any sense. You’re the one who brought me.”

  “I know. I just—de t'ought of it turns me stomach.”

  We were silent the rest of the way back to Peg’s. There wasn’t much to say after that. I wasn’t quite clear on the specifics, but it seemed like he liked me. A lot. And even though I knew I shouldn’t enjoy the whole possessive thing he had going, I did. No one had ever been possessive or protective of me before, and in less than twenty-four hours Patrick had shown both traits.

  “Yer home!” Peg exclaimed. “How was Kevie?”

  “He’s good, Ma.” Patrick said, his eyes glancing from his mom to me.

  “He’s a good boy.” Peg turned to me with a sad smile. “I see him every Sunday, but it’s not the same as when he’d be playin’ in the yard with Patrick every day.”