by A. Zavarelli
The room goes silent, and Amy gets to work. I’m grateful when she asks for my help and I don’t have to feel the weight of Lachlan’s questioning gaze on me. Throughout the procedure, I act as her assistant. She tells me what she needs from me, and not a word more. She isn’t meeting my gaze, and I have a feeling she’s really hating me right now for putting her in this situation.
When she’s removed the bullet and stitched him up, she washes her hands and packs up her medical bag. Her gaze moves to Lachlan as she lingers in the bedroom doorway.
“Is that all you need from me?”
Her voice is flat and cold. And I don’t like it. Because Amy’s always been good to me, and I feel horrible for involving her in this.
“Aye,” he tells her. “It is.”
“Amy,” I call out.
She glances at me, and I hug my arms across my body, unsure of what I should even say at this point.
“Um, thank you.”
She nods and leaves.
The front door closes, and then it’s just Lachlan and I, left to the silence of the room. It’s strange, being here with him. I don’t know what to say or do. I’ve never known what to make of this guy. Sometimes he can seem so cold. But seeing him with Mack, I know he’s human too. My way of dealing with him has always been to avoid him, but right here and now I can’t.
So I sit down beside Ronan on the bed, and Lachlan takes the chair across the room.
“You aren’t going to hurt Amy,” I blurt. “Right?”
He shakes his head with a grunt. “No, Sasha. I’m not going to hurt Amy. She was paid well for her time here tonight, and I don’t think there’s even reason for it to be spoken of again.”
I nod and brush my fingers over Ronan’s hand and arm.
“Tell me what happened to him,” I whisper.
“It’s not my story to tell,” Lachlan answers.
I look up at him, and my eyes are filled with tears. “I just… I want to understand him. I don’t know how to understand what he needs, or wants.”
Lachlan sighs and leans back in his chair. His eyes dart to Ronan a few more times and then back to me.
“Then ye understand how he feels perfectly.”
“Huh?” I stare at him in confusion.
“If you feel like you can’t make sense of your own thoughts or emotions, then ye know exactly what Ronan’s going through. Only he feels that all the time.”
“Oh.”
“Come with me,” Lachlan says.
“But, what if he wakes…”
“He won’t,” he says. “He needs to rest.”
I stroke Ronan’s face one more time before I follow Lachlan down the hall and into the kitchen. He makes himself at home, going through the cupboards until he finds a bottle of wine. He opens it up and pours me a glass. And even though I’m exhausted and the last thing I need to do is drink, I take it. Because I need to know what Lachlan has to say.
“I can’t tell you Ronan’s story,” he says. “Because even I don’t know the half of it. I met him when I was thirteen. I won’t tell you the where or the how. I don’t even know where he came from. Only that he was raised in a paramilitary training camp run by a political fringe group. They were well known for bombings, copper killings, things of that nature. Their ideologies were radical, and Ronan had been spoon fed them since he was only a wee lad. He had no say in the matter. About any of it. He was born and reared to do one thing alone.”
I close my eyes because I can’t stand to hear him say it. That Ronan’s nothing more than a killer.
“He’s a good man,” I tell him.
“Aye, he is,” Lachlan agrees. “But he’s still recovering from the things he went through. Truth be told, I don’t know if he’ll ever fully recover.”
“What do you mean?”
Lachlan scrubs a hand over his face and takes a seat across from me. “I don’t know how to say this in a way that you can understand, Sasha. But Ronan doesn’t know what to do with himself if he isn’t being told. Thinking freely does not come naturally to him. His days are completely regimented. If he isn’t working, he’s at home. He works out. He eats at a certain time, and only from a small selection of foods. He reads. He works. And he takes orders as they come. Anything else, he doesn’t know how to handle it. He comes to things in his own time. And on his own terms.”
“But he came to me on his own,” I say. “Why?”
“How long do ye think it took him to come to terms with that decision?” Lachlan asks.
I stare down at the table, knowing he’s right. It took Ronan two years to come back to me.
“I just want ye to know what ye’re getting yourself into here Sasha,” Lachlan says. “Ronan needs stability in his life. And if ye’re planning on leaving like you say, then the best thing you can do for him is to leave him be. For him to open up to you and then have ye walk away, I fear it will do him more harm than good. And I won’t stand for that.”
I blink back my tears as I process his words. He’s right. I didn’t plan on staying. I still don’t. So I should stay far away from Ronan, and hope that he can overcome these issues on his own. But the thought of that causes a deep well of despair to spring up inside of me.
“I just want to lay beside him,” I tell Lachlan. “For the night. Until he’s better.”
He nods and then makes a gesture with his hand. “Well go on then,” he says. “I’ll be here if ye need me.”
“You’re going to stay here?” I ask.
“Aye.” He nods. “He’s my brother. I’ll be here until I know he’s okay.”
I give him a small smile and pad down the hall. Ronan’s still asleep, my blankets folded over the lower half of his body. I crawl into bed beside him and curl up against his chest, breathing him in. And even though I know what Lachlan said is true, and it’s the right thing to do, I don’t want to let him go.
And yet when I wake up the next morning, only to find the space beside me empty and every trace of him gone, I’m not in the least surprised.
Chapter Thirteen
Ronan
“Have ye any idea how bad you’ve fucked this, Fitz?” Crow asks again.
I focus my attention on the dog in my lap, the one staring at me with the big brown eyes.
“I don’t know where the bleeding hell your head’s at lately,” he continues. “Are ye trying to get yourself killed?”
I don’t answer.
Mack walks down the hallway and sits down on the sofa beside me. She hasn’t let Crow out of her sight since that night he fought for her. I still don’t particularly care for her, but I do believe she’s proved to be loyal to Crow now.
“It’s a nice place you got here, Ronan,” she says. “Although, it could do with a woman’s touch.”
The dog in my lap barks in agreement, and Mack smiles.
“I didn’t take you for a dog person,” she says.
“I’m not,” I tell her.
Crow is staring at the two of us, shaking his head.
“Do ye have any other pressing concerns to discuss?” he asks. “How about the shade of your curtains? I don’t think it suits the goddamn sofa.”
Mack laughs. “Cut him some slack, Lach,” she says. “Ronan looks like he’s having a bad day.”
“This is why women don’t attend business meetings,” Crow says in response.
“I wanted to see where he lived,” she argues. “I didn’t realize it was just down the street.”
“You’d do well to forget it,” I tell her. “Nobody else needs to know it.”
Crow glares at me.
“C’mon, Mack. Let’s go.”
“I think I’ll stay here for a bit,” she says. “With my old buddy Ronan. I don’t feel like going to the club just yet.”
Crow glances at me, and I shrug. I don’t want her here, but I’ve learned to pick my battles with this one.
“You’ll bring her along after?” he asks.
“Aye.”
“Have Rory
come too,” Crow says. “I don’t want you going out alone until we find Andrei.”
“I don’t need a bleeding escort,” I reply.
“It wasn’t a request,” Crow answers.
Mack walks him to the door where they participate in another display of shite I have no need to see. So I busy myself in the kitchen feeding the dog until he’s gone. But if I was hoping for a respite from Mack, she isn’t giving me one.
“Whatcha doing?” she asks as she sits down at the table.
“Feeding the dog.”
“Obviously.” She laughs. “So what’s the deal with you and Sash?”
I blink at her, wondering what she knows. All of the things Sasha could have told her filter through my head, and it makes me angry. She’s laughing at me. Because I embarrassed myself.
“Relax, Ronan,” Mack says. “It’s just that I’ve noticed you’ve both been more screwy than usual lately. I mean I know she has a reason, with her mom and all. But what’s the deal?”
“I don’t know.”
I haven’t any idea why I’m even indulging her with this line of questioning. But there is a part of me, a small part of me, that wants to ask her some things. I take the box of donuts from the cupboard and set them on the table. When Mack spots them, she grins and it makes me uncomfortable.
“Did you know I was coming?” she asks.
“Crow told me.”
“And you bought me donuts,” she coos. “Aw, Ronan, you’re the best.”
She springs up on her feet and tries to hug me. I bat her away.
“I sent Conor out for them this morning. Go hug him.”
The next minute, she’s sitting at the table shoveling a donut into her mouth.
“Look,” she says between mouthfuls. “You can talk to me, Ronan, you know? You don’t even have to bribe me with donuts although it certainly does help.”
I sit down across from her and fold my hands. I don’t even know where to begin. Or what to say.
“Just one sentence,” Mack insists. “The first thing that comes to your mind. And go.”
“I don’t know what she wants,” I tell her.
“Well that’s easy.” She shrugs. “She wants you silly.”
I look up at her and scrub my face.
“What I mean is,” I clear my throat. “I don’t know what she likes.”
Mack stops chewing and stares at me. Shame washes over me and I look away.
“Ronan,” she says in a voice that’s too high. “You’re blushing!”
I don’t reply. I think she’s going to laugh at me, but she doesn’t.
“Have you tried asking her?” Mack continues.
“No.”
“Right,” she snorts. “Because you’re… well, you.”
“Ye’re a girl…” I tell her.
“A woman,” she corrects. “But yes. I am of the female variety.”
“What do people like you want?” I ask.
“You mean women?” she smiles. “That’s a timeless question, Ronan. And one that you’ll never have the answer to. It changes every five minutes, and if you try to figure it out, you’ll just go mad.”
I nod because I suspected as much.
“Ronan, I was joking,” she laughs. “Sheesh, you’re so serious all the time. Just relax, will you?”
Silence falls between us, and I find myself wishing she’d gone with Crow. This is pointless.
“Look,” Mack says. “I can’t tell you what Sasha likes, because everyone is different. And even so, I think you kind of have to figure it out together. You know, it takes… like practice.”
She makes a face as she says it, and my cheeks burn.
“Do you know what I love about Lachlan?” she asks.
“What?”
“He just takes charge. He does what he wants. And he does it unapologetically. He doesn’t ask for permission to kiss me. He just does. If you’re so wrapped up in wondering if every little thing you do is wrong or right, then it’s not going to be enjoyable for either of you.”
“But what if she doesn’t fancy it?”
“Then she’ll tell you. And you fix it. Simple. It’s all about communication, Ronan, which I know isn’t your strong suit. But you can’t expect to figure all this shit out telepathically. You’ve got to put yourself out there a bit.”
The dog jumps into my lap again, and Mack reaches for another donut.
“But I will tell you one thing though, Fitz. If you want to make a play for Sash, you better do it soon. Girlfriend’s getting ready to pack her bags and get outta dodge, and I can’t say I blame her.”
“I have no idea what any of that means,” I tell her.
Mack groans and brushes the crumbs from her hands. “We have a lot of work to do, Ronan.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sasha
Emily flew in last night, and she hasn’t left Ma’s side. She’s taking it hard, and in a way I feel guilty that I got more time with her. But this is how Ma wanted it.
“She looks so different,” Em whispers. “I didn’t want to remember her this way.”
“So don’t,” I tell her. “She wouldn’t want you to, Em.”
“I’m going up to the roof,” she says. “I need some air.”
I nod and let her go. Emily is strong. And smart. And I know she’s going to do great things in her life. But this is going to leave a gaping hole in her heart. She’s too young to have lost both parents. She reminds me a little of Mack in that way. I see similarities between them. The tough fronts they put up for the world. Em’s always been like that.
With Amy fixing the dosage of Ma’s medicine, she’s managed to have a few lucid moments throughout the day. And I’m surprised when Emily leaves, she opens her eyes again.
I lay down beside her and try not to cry. When I look into her eyes tonight, I know it’s going to be the last time. She’s in too much pain to wake any more. And it isn’t fair to her.
So this has to be goodbye.
I hold her hand and talk to her. Anything that comes to my mind, I just blurt it out. I’m telling her about things that will never happen. A house I’ll probably never have. The names of my future children. Anything to keep my mind off what’s coming.
Ma watches me talk, but doesn’t respond. I don’t expect her to. She’s weak and tired. But I still want to hear her voice. Just one last time.
I promised myself I’d be strong for her. But I can’t. I’m too emotional. So eventually, I break down and just cry. She holds me, the way that mothers do.
“Tell me it’s going to be okay, Ma,” I whisper. “Because I don’t feel like it will. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”
I don’t expect her to say anything. But she does.
Her voice is faint and scratchy. But she speaks. For me.
“He says,” she forces out, “he will protect you.”
“What?” I blink at her, desperate for more.
But she doesn’t speak again. She smiles and pulls my face down so that she can kiss me on the forehead. And then she closes her eyes and falls back into unconsciousness.
***
Amy is still in the kitchen when I finally emerge, and I’m grateful for her presence. She’s made dinner, which isn’t part of her job requirement. Neither is staying this late when she isn’t even getting paid for it. She hasn’t said a word about what happened with Ronan. And I appreciate that too. I know she’s not over it, but whatever Lachlan said to her has kept her from bringing it up.
I give her a shaky smile as I sit down and she hands me a dish of spaghetti.
“Thank you, Amy.”
“How was she?” she asks as she makes herself a dish.
“She seemed very coherent,” I tell her. “But she said something strange. I couldn’t really make sense of it.”
“It happens,” Amy says softly. “Sometimes their thoughts only make sense to them. The medication can do that.”
I nod, deciding that’s probably the best possi
ble explanation. But even as I tell myself that, I can’t stop thinking that isn’t it. That Ma knew exactly who she was talking about. And he goes by the name of Ronan.
***
The next morning, Mack shows up at my door with Dunkies.
I’m surprised to see her, but it seems like everyone has decided to start paying me regular visits. Amy told me this would probably happen. People don’t really know what to do in these situations, so they try to be helpful. They make casseroles and bring cards and flowers. I don’t mind. It keeps the apartment from being so quiet. Even with Amy and Em here round the clock now, it still feels empty. We’re all just walking around like zombies, waiting for the end to come.
“Hey, Mack,” I greet her. “C’mon in.”
She makes herself at home on the sofa and pulls out an impressive spread of donuts. The girl is a certified sugar addict. Although right now, nothing sounds better than some sugar and caffeine.
“How is she?” Mack asks.
“Amy says it probably won’t be long now,” I tell her.
Mack gives me a gentle smile and then gets down to business. “Well, my reasons for being here are twofold. I came to see if you needed anything and to tell you that Lach wants you to take as much time off as you need.”
She drops a stack of cash onto the coffee table, and I swallow the lump of emotion in my throat.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “Please tell him I said thank you.”
Mack nods, and we eat our donuts in silence for the next few minutes.
“There is something else,” she says. “It might not be the right time to bring it up. But then again it might help take your mind off things. I’m not really sure.”
I look at her, and she has a blush on her cheeks. I’ve never once seen Mack blush.
“What is it?”
“Uh… well Ronan and I sort of had… like a birds and bees talk the other day.”
I nearly choke on the coffee I just drank.
“There were donuts involved,” she says nervously. “And a lot of awkwardness.”
“He talked to you about this?” I ask.