by Becca Lee
My gaze flicked back to the doctor as he continued speaking. “There are still some possible issues you need to be aware of. While her stats are finally stable, she has yet to regain consciousness. We’re still awaiting the results of what exactly was in her system. We would have expected and hoped by now she would be awake. We’re concerned that she isn’t. We should know more tomorrow.”
“Okay, thanks, Doctor.” Liam’s voice turned hard, a version of his former self, coming out in defence, one I hadn’t bore witness to in years. He was hurting, and while I hated seeing remnants of the Liam of his childhood, I understood his need to protect himself.
Nodding, the doctor gave a tight smile and opened the secured doors for us to follow.
“Do you want me to stay here so just you and Mace can go?” I wasn’t quite sure what to do for the best. Tension sat heavily on my chest, and I had no idea if staying or going would help it. Regardless, I would do whatever Liam needed me to.
Mace surprised me by answering, “Come.”
Liam glanced at Mace and nodded. Tugging lightly on my hand, he led to the waiting doctor and the three of us headed to visit their mum.
It was no great surprise that I detested hospitals. I could argue who in their right mind liked the damn places. Walking into the room where Liam’s mum was hooked up to machines with a tube down her throat, teamed with the bitter smell of antiseptic, cemented my discomfort with the place.
I stood slightly behind Liam, hand still in his as he approached his unconscious mum, while Mace went to the other side. It had been a long time since I’d seen Jane, and neither time nor the booze and drugs had been kind to her. Barely in her mid-fifties, her deep-set wrinkles and gaunt face made her look closer to her mid-sixties, and a haggard version at that.
She was too thin, obvious to all three of us that getting a fix or a bottle of liquor was more important than eating. Sorrow for the two men sharing the room with me brimmed to the surface. Should I have felt sorry for Jane? Possibly. But there reached a point where the most overpowering of emotions I felt toward her was disgust, followed closely with venom.
At times, I wished I was apathetic where Jane was concerned. It may have been better for Liam if that were the case, but the mention or near thought of the woman made me want to spit and pound into her. What always worried me was that I was not a violent person. While I had a vicious tongue at times, and may have punched an ex or two, including a cowpat to Ella’s ex, I wasn’t usually violent. Thinking of those incidents and how many there were, made me reconsider my original thought. Damn, maybe I was just a tad violent after all. But all of the dicks who I’d laid my hands on deserved it, and the last incident was five years earlier, so I must have matured.
I would have scoffed if I wasn’t surrounded by beeping and a stink which had wedged itself up my nose. Instead, I kept my face stoic.
Jane most definitely did not deserve my compassion. Bitch or not, and no doubt others who were ignorant of her past transgressions would most definitely think I was the former, any woman who allowed her husband to beat her children black and blue, and broke bones while he was at it, while she stood by and gulped from a bottle was not worth anything more. Liam had shared stories with me, far too many to count, remembering going three days without food once. My heart had shattered a fraction more while simultaneously growing exponentially for the man who I loved with my entire being.
And then there was the time I was raped.
Liam was not with me because he was looking after her. While I understood this, the bitch, however, had supported her husband in the trial, calling me a liar and a whore.
All things considered, I was goddamn proud of myself and Liam for being in that damn hospital room at all.
“She looks like shit.” Mace’s voice echoed around the sterile room. He waited a beat before he continued, “You done?” He looked directly at Liam, urging him to respond.
Liam glanced down at his mum’s withered body before he looked back at me. “Yeah, I’m done.”
His three words hurt my heart. He was saying goodbye. I swallowed back the tears I held in my chest for him. While he hadn’t seen his mum since the trial, I knew both he and Mace kept tabs on her. This I understood and supported. But his final words meant so much more. He didn’t want her to wake up.
Neither did I.
I nodded and accepted his light kiss before we left.
Chapter Twelve
Liam
I half-expected to be relegated to the spare room for the night. I was in a whole pile of crap with Jo. For weeks, I had deliberately been keeping the truth from her. I had my reasons as well as a plan to tell her as soon as the opportunity arose. But it never did, even though I had plenty of chances to tell her. Instead, I bullshitted myself every day when I chose not to open up, convincing myself it wasn’t the right moment to turn her day to crap, as well as put me in the doghouse.
I’d made a mistake.
The shrill ring from the house phone woke me early the next day. I knew who it would be before I even answered it.
She had died during the night.
After saying my thanks to the doctor on the end of the line, I pressed the receiver to my head, hearing the disconnected tone buzz. A ball of tension, which had always sat in my stomach, unravelled a little. It brought with it a wave of relief combined with nausea.
Tears filled my eyes and I expelled the toxic breath that held all that was my mum. My tears and nausea were that of relief. I was convinced I should feel something more, guilt maybe, but I didn’t. A tiny thread existed in my heart that tied me to my mum. I had loved her. Despite the shit I’d gone through, there were a handful of memories that were good. But a handful after thirty years was nothing to write home about.
With my relief came the thought of Jo. Knowing more poison was firmly out of our lives was an amazing thing, and knowing our child would not have to witness a single day like I had was bloody fantastic.
Jo’s heat enveloped me, startling me from my thoughts. She struggled to wrap her arms around me as her pregnant belly pressed lightly against my back. Placing the phone on the cradle after turning it off, I turned in her arms.
“Hey.” With a wrinkled, sleep-smudged cheek tinged with pink, and bed-head, which looked somewhat similar to her just-got-screwed hair, she looked gorgeous. I smiled and kissed the end of her nose.
Pulling away, she rested her face against my chest and sighed.
“Is that a good sigh?”
She shrugged and yawned. “Was that the hospital?” Her cheek remained pressed against my chest, no doubt listening to my heart, something she weirdly enjoyed.
Running my hands over her back, I pressed my lips to her head and spoke. “Yeah, she’s gone.” I closed my eyes as I said the words aloud, making them more real somehow, since they were floating around the room.
Her hands clutched my back tighter. “I love you.” There was something in her voice, which at another time I would have asked her about, challenged her. It was a hesitation of sorts, but at that moment, all I needed were her words of comfort and to be wrapped in her arms.
“I love you, too.” Parting from her hold, I took her hands. “Come on. It’s too early to be up. The sun hasn’t even risen.”
Unshed tears danced in her eyes as she nodded and smiled. “Okay.” I saw her shake them away as we headed back to bed. Her tears, while undoubtedly for me, also reflected her own inner turmoil and pain. I loved her. I loved her even more that she hadn’t questioned anything. Her quiet acceptance of my mum’s death was exactly what I needed.
Climbing back into bed, we arranged ourselves in my favourite position. Her arse to my groin, one of my hands resting across her mound and the other wrapped around one of her growing breasts. While the way I held her could easily get me randy as hell since my hands were strategically placed, it was the position that I found the most comforting and relaxing. There was no place I’d rather be than have Jo wrapped up in my arms.
Whe
n I woke up, Jo was already awake. She was sitting up in bed and staring out the bedroom window. Her stillness unsettled me.
“You okay?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
I waited for a beat for her to elaborate. She didn’t. “I know.” There was no amount of ignoring it or hiding away. My mum was dead, which meant I had to organise stuff. Plus I’d lied to her, and not a small-time white lie, either. I just had no idea what that all meant yet. “Come on. Let’s have breakfast and I’ll call Mace.” She nodded in agreement, allowing me to take the lead.
Before I had the chance to lay a kiss on her shoulder, she turned and stood. Sighing, thoroughly annoyed at my situation and myself, I organised myself and dressed before heading to the kitchen and starting breakfast. A little while later, Jo joined me after showering.
We ate outside on the veranda. Rather than being relaxing, the stillness of the morning was suffocating. Dread filled my gut as I wondered what she was thinking. I knew there was no chance she’d let my deception go without some sort of response. The roar of a Harley’s pipes reached us. Finishing my coffee, I waited for Mace to join us. It would only take him a moment to head around the back; it also meant I didn’t have to make a call to him.
He looked like shit, and I had a moment of guilt knowing once again, he took on the enormity of his big brother role. He always had. Jo left and grabbed him a mug from the kitchen so he could have a coffee. She then hugged his tense form. It was only stiff for a moment, until his arms wrapped around her. Jo had a way of doing that, forcing suckers like us to open up, even if it was the last thing we wanted to do.
“Sit and have a coffee.” She stepped back from him. “Do you want something to eat, too?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks, Jo.”
While I couldn’t see her face, I could tell she lifted a brow at him in question. “You sure? ‘Cause you sure look like crap, honey.”
Mace grinned at her and sat down. “I’ll just have toast and vegemite then. Thanks.”
She waited a minute. I wondered if she would argue with him, but she must have thought better of it as she headed back into the kitchen.
“What time did you get home?” I asked.
He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Late. Then I received the call.” He yawned and stretched his arms above him, allowing them to rest clasped at the back of his head.
“You good?”
Looking at me a moment, he remained quiet. I knew he was taking in my reaction, trying to figure out what I was thinking. While Jo knew my heart better than anyone did, my brother knew my inner workings. He got me. Always had. “Yeah, I am.”
I nodded in acceptance, relieved he felt the same way.
“To be honest, I’m pleased it’s over.”
I gave a humourless laugh, knowing exactly what he meant. “It was a shit way for her to go, but we both knew it would happen sooner or later.” To people who didn’t know us, or were clueless to our lives, I had no doubt we’d sound like callous bastards. Our mum had just died, a woman who I loved, in my own way. Just like I knew she had loved us boys, but again, in her own way. She just never loved us as much as him, or booze, or meth. That put both Mace and me toward the bottom of her list. We learned that a long time ago and had made our own version of peace with it. For me, I had Jo. She was my peace; she calmed my soul and swept away the cloud of shit tied up with my childhood. Then there was Mace. Who the hell did he have?
The thought made me pause. For the first time ever, I thought about him and his own demons and loss. Shit, I could be a selfish prick at times. Jo had called me up on it numerous times, but I’d never really believed it until that moment.
I needed to make it right. Jo had enough heart to keep me going and keep me sane. Mace, on the other hand, had a chaotic, often violent life, and…me. I was it as far as I knew, and for the past few years, I’d thrown our relationship away.
“I’m a wanker.”
Mace snorted as he placed his coffee back on the table. “Shit, Liam, what have you done now? Don’t get me wrong, I agree with that statement fully, but any particular reason this time?”
I hated the feels when it came to my brother. While I could reach down and drag them out, they didn’t come naturally. They’d been buried for too damn long. With Jo it was different. “You.” I nodded at him. “I’ve been a wanker to you, and I’m sorry.”
He wiped a hand over his face. “Enough. You’ve said sorry already.”
“I know, but hell, Mace, you’ve always been there, yet where the hell have I been for you? When Abi—”
His gaze snapped to mine. “Don’t, brother.”
I couldn’t stop the verbal diarrhoea even if I wedged Imodium down my damn throat. “I know, Mace, but you’ve never spoken about it. And if you haven’t spoken to me about it, then I can’t imagine you opening up to anyone else.” His face shuttered and he looked all sorts of pissed, but I continued regardless, on a roll. “All I’m saying is I’m here for you…when you need to talk about shit, okay? You don’t have to manage everything all of the time. You’re my big brother and all, but I can step up and look after crap, too. Okay, Mace? I love you, man.”
“Christ Almighty!” He shook his head and hit me with his hard stare. “You really doing this now?”
I shrugged, knowing I looked like a dick. “I should have done it a long time ago.”
A deep sigh released from his lungs. “I love you, too.” He ended on a small cough and turned away.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d told my brother I loved him. It may have been when he gave me a manly hug before he shipped me off to university, telling me he was proud of me. A whole damn world had happened and twisted since then.
“Do you need time to hug it out, or is it safe?” My gaze shifted to Jo who was wearing a small grin. While the smile didn’t hold its usual mirth, the slight sheen in her eyes wasn’t lost on me. She placed Mace’s toast before him and sat next to me, touching his arm briefly.
Mace scoffed and shovelled the toast into his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed. We both ignored her comment, but welcomed the cut in tension.
“Do you want me to organise the funeral?” Even though we were both relieved that another chapter of our lives had closed, Mace would agree with needing a funeral for our mum. It was the right thing to do; plus, I needed that final goodbye and the closure, which came with it.
Swallowing his last bite, he shook his head. “We can do it together.”
I smiled. He’d listened and was accepting my apology, while embracing our brotherhood. “Okay.”
We knew there was no life insurance. Her life was too screwed up for that to think beyond her next fix. It meant the organisation and expense came down to us. Yet again, we were forced to step up and pick up the chaos of our mum’s misgivings. Only this time, I was able to ensure Mace wasn’t doing it all by himself.
Chapter Thirteen
Jo
I had no idea why I’d thought wearing heels was a good idea. My swollen, aching feet cried out to me, desperate for a soak and a rub. This discomfort did keep my own straying thoughts, which were pretty damning, away from my overactive brain, though. The last few days before the funeral, I held stoically quiet. Silence was my current strength and my barrier. I was too afraid to deal with the fallout of all that had happened. Tired, I eyed-up Ella who was sitting next to me.
“What? You’re freaking me out a little. I don’t have any food on me, you know.”
“What do you mean? I’m not looking for food. Are you saying I eat a lot?” Turned toward me, the red tendrils of hair framing her face, she quirked her brow at me in disbelief. “Fine,” I admitted. I had serious cravings recently. Nothing bizarre or strange, just a craving to eat, and I meant seriously eat. I rarely went a couple of hours without munching on something. Ella had staged an intervention a couple of weeks back, pointing out my growing arse as she did.
She’d reminded me that I wasn’t growing my baby in my booty, whic
h had taken on a life of its own in recent weeks. While she whole-heartedly supported my eating yummy goodness, the quantity and regularity of eating such treats was becoming extreme. Her intervention, on top of her pep talk—after which I later pointed out she was lucky I didn’t snatch her bag where I knew was a stashed cookie—also included a plan of munching on healthy stuff as well as the fun stuff. I’d grimaced.
While a carrot stick had its own value and merits, it was no comparison to a slab of double chocolate cake or peanut brittle. I also knew she was right. I was fine with piling on a few kilos; it was part of the baby-incubation gig I had going on, but I also knew it would be a bastard to try to lose those spare tyres post-baby.
“So, what do you want if you’re not looking for food? Don’t think I didn’t see you attacking the hummus earlier.”
I pouted. “I ate it with carrot and celery sticks.”
“Yeah, but most people usually dip them in lightly. They tend not to use the stick as a spoon and eat the whole damn thing.”
“It has chickpeas in it, so it’s healthy.”
She shook her head in amusement while my feet throbbed, reminding me why I was eyeballing her in the first place. “You’re going to talk me in circles, Jo. What do you want?”
“My feet hurt.”
“And?”
“Foot rub?”
She turned up her nose. “Don’t you have a husband for stuff like that?”
“Yeah, but he’s outside still, and it hardly feels right asking him to rub my feet now. He’s just buried his mum.” He was currently out back with a few friends, Preston and Mace. The funeral service was earlier in the day, and we’d retreated to our house. It was an eerily quiet service. I supposed, since Jane was consumed in the world she was, it didn’t really give you time to make friends. The important thing was both Liam and Mace’s close friends were there, on top of a few decent cousins who managed to escape the crap gene, which shot through some of his mother’s line.