by Liz Crowe
He’d sat silent, taking it, his eyes full of frustrated tears, fists up on his unfeeling legs. “I can’t … be a man any more. Don’t you get that? Doesn’t anyone in this family fucking get this new hell I have to live in now?”
“You are more man than any male in the universe, Kieran Francesco. And if I hear tell of you breathing another word about wishing you were dead, I’ll … well, I’ll kill you my own self.”
I had to sit then, winded and dizzy with terrified fury. I tried to take his hands but he kept them balled up on his denim-clad thighs. “You saved people’s lives, honey. And we got to keep you, in spite of it being touch and go for days. You are alive, Francis. And we all love you, each and every one of us. Most especially your wife and your children.
“If anyone can handle this,” I put my fists on his thighs alongside his, “it’s you. Get your stubborn ass to that PTSD specialist Margot found for you. Rejoin the family. We are sick of hearing you whine.”
He’d rallied some after that, Cara claimed. But just a week later, I went into early labor and spent several days in the hospital, hooked up to various drugs, praying harder than ever that I wouldn’t lose the baby, despite Cal’s calm reassurances to the contrary.
Now I looked into my brother’s eyes. “You all right, Ginger?” He grinned and handed the baby to Cara, who gave him to me.
“Yeah. I will be, I think.” He took his wife’s hand, then looked over his shoulder. “Who’s got wheelie duty?” Dom grabbed the wheelchair handles, dropping Kieran back so far Cara yelped and put a hand over her mouth. Kieran laughed. And of all the sounds in the world, I was never more grateful to God for letting me continue to hear that one.
My father and brothers all trooped out. Cara followed after pressing her lips to my forehead. Cal got called away by a nurse, leaving my mother standing next to me, her firm, strong hand on my shoulder.
My tears plopped onto my baby’s face, making him flinch. “Life’s not fair,” I said to him.
“No, it’s surely not,” she said, taking little Kieran from my arms in a preemptory manner I figured I’d best get used to. “But it does go on.” She smiled down at her grandbaby. “No matter how much we might protest it. Don’t let anger keep you from being the mother I wasn’t for you. Kieran will be fine. But I swan I don’t know what to think about …”
I stopped listening then, as she described her latest worry about one of her grandkids.
Finally, she put the now-squawking bundle into my arms. “Feed your boy, Angel. He needs you more than anyone else does now.”
The End.
Love Liz Crowe?
Try one or more of these:
The Love Brothers Series
Love Garage (The Aiden/Rosalee Story)
Coach Love (The Kieran/Cara Story)
Love Brewing (The Dominic/Diana Story)
Safe Love (The Antony/Margot Story)
Coming soon….True Love: Life Goes On
The Stewart Realty Series
Floor Time
Sweat Equity
Closing Costs
Essence of Time
Conditional Offer
Escalation Clause
Mutual Release
Good Faith
House Rules: The Jack Gordon Prequel
The Black Jack Gentlemen Series
Man On
Red Card
Shut Out
Hat Trick
The Turkish Delights Series
Turkish Delights
Blue Cruise
Tulip Princess
The Diplomat’s Daughter
Flower Passage
Stand alone novels:
Paradise Hops
Cheeky Blonde
Honey Red
Vegas Miracle
Lust on Tap
Healing Hearts
Caught Offside
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