The Monster

by Shen, L. J.

  I looked down and noticed my phone was beeping with an incoming text. I slid the screen with my thumb.

  Cillian: Clover.

  Hunter: Cloverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

  They could wait. They sure made me wait when I needed them.

  “Do you think I can handle a residency?” I gnawed on my inner cheek.

  I’d been so far removed from mainstream medical institutions, finding my way back into them felt almost impossible.

  “Dear,” Dr. Doyle chuckled, “the question is, can they handle you? You are a force to be reckoned with. Compassionate, pragmatic, and hardworking. A lethal combination for a doctor.”

  He got up, rounding the desk between us, and offered me his hand. I took it, rising to my feet. Dr. Doyle engulfed me in a hug. The deep, bone-crushing kind that rearranged your entire being in just the right way.

  When I stepped out of the clinic for the last time in my life, I found myself looking behind at the building’s door with a soft smile but without longing.

  Doing what I did never truly fulfilled me.

  It dulled my pain.

  I was ready for the next chapter in my life.

  To stitch people back together, atoning for all the lives my future husband would no doubt rip apart.

  I forgive you, mon cheri. You were just a kid. Besides, maybe, just maybe I put you in an impossible situation, too, I heard Ms. B’s voice in my head and knew, with a decent amount of both disappointment and relief, that I wasn’t going to hear her voice very often from now on. Her job was truly done now.

  I took out my phone, striding absentmindedly to the Prius.

  I had a lot of missed calls from Cillian, Hunter, and Devon. Gosh, they really couldn’t handle how yesterday went down with Sam and me. They needed to get over themselves.

  The texts, however, gave me pause.

  Cillian: Answer.

  Hunter: Please just pick up the phone. We are not trying to yell at you for the engagement.

  Cillian: Sam is in the hospital. Brigham. He’s been shot twice. He’s in critical condition.

  Hunter: You have to come see him. He is asking for you.

  Devon: Aisling, darling, your brothers are quite disoriented, too much to pay attention to the finer details. But as a solicitor, one must wonder, if you are currently at work, and your workplace is the hospital we’re in, how come we can’t seem to reach you?

  I jumped into the car, flooring it all the way to the hospital, my heart in my throat.

  My worst fear had materialized.

  Sam’s sins finally caught up with him.

  I blasted through the ER doors, running toward the waiting area, where Hunter, Cillian, Devon, and Troy were standing with a frantic-looking Sparrow.

  The latter paced from side to side, seeming to be deep in conversation on the phone with her daughter, urging her not to come.

  “No, honey, someone needs to take care of the kids. Please don’t leave them with Persy. She has her hands full as it is. I’ll keep you abreast.”

  It was the first time I’d seen my future in-laws since Sam proposed, and it was in less than positive circumstances. I threw myself at Hunter, grabbing onto the lapels of his pea coat.

  “Where is he?”

  “Hey,” Hunter said gravely, his voice lower and more concerned than I’d ever heard before. Cillian would not look at me. Did they know something I didn’t? The thought made me want to kneel right there and throw up on the floor. “He’s in surgery right now. I guess you can’t go inside, but surely you can ask the staff how he is doing? You work here and everything. You must know some of the doctors.”

  Still in a daze, I mumbled something about it being a huge hospital and not wanting to take advantage of my position, although I could tell Hunter looked at me funny. The walls were closing in on me. My family was becoming suspicious. Why had it taken me so long to get here if I worked in the premises?

  Because I never actually worked here. I just couldn’t tell you what it was that I did.

  The great irony of getting caught in the lie on the day I quit my job with Dr. Doyle didn’t escape me, but my mind was occupied with all things Sam. I stared longingly at the door Hunter gestured toward. Behind it doctors were fighting for Sam’s life.

  “Tell me what happened again,” Troy insisted, badgering Cillian and Hunter, and they recited the entire scene. How they came to talk to Sam about my engagement to him (at this point they stared at me pointedly), how they discussed it at length. How they didn’t hear anything when the Russians put bullets in Johnny and Grayson’s heads because they used a silencer. How the Bratva burst through Sam’s office door, aiming their weapon at him.

  “He’s a strong fucker.” Hunter sniffled. “On our way here he was half-conscious. He even asked us to call you, Aisling.”

  All eyes lifted and rested on me, burning a hole through my face. Wrapping my arms around myself, I ignored them, waltzing over to a nearby window and staring out of it.

  The world kept on spinning, and it felt like losing Ms. B all over again, only much worse. Cars honked, cluttered together in neat lines on the road. Clouds sailed. Women cooed at each other’s strollers on the streets.

  Suddenly, I felt bloated and swollen with resentment.

  At my parents for depriving me from having Sam until it was too late. At myself for listening to them, for waiting around, for denying myself of what I wanted. And at Sam, who ruthlessly devoured Boston—to the point where Boston had no choice but to devour him right back.

  “Hunter,” I called out, still staring out the window, my eyes glued to the street. He approached me, stopping right next to me.

  “Call Mother. I want her here. For once in this lifetime, I want her to comfort me.”

  “Are you sure?” He frowned. “I don’t want this to have the opposite effect. What if she ends up nagging you about her psoriasis or tries to drag you to a shopping spree at the mall?”

  “She won’t,” I said with conviction.

  The women with the strollers on the street hugged each other goodbye and went their separate ways. I was filled with nausea when I realized it was possible I would never have babies with Sam. That this could be it for us. “I won’t let her.”

  Hunter nodded curtly, stepping aside to call my mother.

  Then, alone, with my face tilted in the opposite direction of everyone, I allowed the tears to fall. One by one, they slid down my cheeks, hot and salty.

  I needed to let them go or else I’d drown.

  An hour later, my mother walked into the waiting room. There was still no word from the doctors inside the operating room. Several times, Sparrow, Troy, and Cillian tried to nudge me to check in with the reception, pull some strings as a doctor at this hospital. I noticed Devon and Hunter were surprisingly quiet and solemn. They knew.

  Mother flung her arms over my shoulders, burying her face in my neck.

  “Oh, Aisling, how terrible. Poor Sam. I hope he’ll be okay. Although, I suppose, he got what was coming for him, doing what he does and all.”

  My blood froze in my veins. I peeled her away from my body. No one else had heard what she said, but it didn’t matter. I was done being understanding of her, of her condition. Her loose tongue and looser morals had consequences, and it was time she knew it. I took a step back.

  “I’m engaged to him,” I announced robotically.

  Her mouth fell open. My brothers must have kept it a secret from her. No doubt thinking the engagement might be short-lived. Well, it wasn’t. There was only one way out of this engagement right now, and that was if Sam died.

  “Aisling, you can’t …” She grabbed her gold necklace, rearranging it over her neck nervously. She was clad in a black velvet suit and a vintage Chanel bag, and I realized, a few moments too late, that it wasn’t only her words that bothered me but also the fact she took her time getting ready to come to the hospital when I called for her.

  She lowered her voice, grabbing onto my wrist and tugging me
to the corner of the room to make sure no one could hear us. “Honey, he is not for you.”

  I yanked my arm away, scowling at her. “You don’t know what’s good for me. All you want is for me to stay in the house and cater to you.”

  “Honey! That is ridiculous. If anything, I—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence,” I warned, lifting a finger. “I called you here today because I wanted your support, not to hear you nagging. This is how it’s going to be from now on, Mother. You’ll be giving support, not just getting it. You will not pass judgment on me. You will be a mother. No longer my responsibility. Am I clear?”

  She stared at me, blinking, and my heart clenched when I realized we were like a filtered mirror. I looked just like her. Same dainty build, delicate bones, and coiffed hair. Same lips and nose and naturally curled eyelashes.

  But I was different. Strong. Resilient.

  She touched her fingers to her cheek, sighing.

  “You’re right. I did abuse your kind heart, Aisling. I didn’t want to believe it, but of course I did. You were so good, and I was so weak. I wasn’t used to people being good under my roof. Your father and Cillian are cold as ice. Hunter has the best intentions, but I never quite could worm my way into his heart. You were my rock. My everything. And losing you … I couldn’t imagine such a scenario. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I—” she stopped, bowing her head as her shoulders began to rock to the rhythm of her sobs. “I was the one who suggested your father should pay Sam extra not to get near you.”

  An icicle pierced through my heart, and I took a deep, sudden breath, reaching for a nearby wall to try to right myself.

  My mother continued, her eyes carefully staring at the floor.

  “I saw the way you looked at him the first time you saw him. You must believe this wasn’t always about me, Aisling. I was thinking about you, too. He was too old, too dangerous, and too rough around the edges for a gentle-bred girl like you. But yes, in the spirit of honesty, I knew a man like that could scoop you with the same frightening ease you’d take Shelly out from her cage when you gave her baths. You were going to leave me all alone with your father in this big mansion, and I wasn’t ready for that. With each year that passed, I tried mustering the courage to tell you. To come clean. Selfishly, I couldn’t.”

  I was fully aware that somewhere in my periphery, our friends and family were watching us, so I refrained from causing a scene. As it was, Hunter and Cillian looked on high alert, ready to pounce on Mother and take her away from me, knowing she had a talent for stealing the limelight, no matter the situation.

  Despite the initial shock and deep sense of betrayal, Dr. Doyle was right. There was nothing to be done about our pasts. The only way was forward. I could let what my mother did define our relationship or reinvent it.

  And standing there, while Sam was in the operating room, hanging in the balance between life and death, everything was crystal clear to me.

  If you loved somehow, you had to give them a second chance.

  Not for them.

  For you.

  I took a step toward her, tilting my head up regally.

  “I forgive you, Jane, not because you deserve it, but because I don’t deserve to live the rest of my life motherless because of your mistakes. You are going to make it up to me, though. Big time. You can start by bringing all of us coffees and pastries. The Brennans haven’t eaten all day, and I’m famished.”

  She nodded, wiping her face quickly, sniffling.

  “Will do. Right away. Oh, Aisling, thank you so much.” She grabbed my hands and squeezed them. “I will not let you down, love. You will see.”

  She ran toward the elevators on her high heels, ignoring the disturbed glares of onlookers.

  I was choosing me now.

  Me … and the man I loved.

  It had been six hours since I’d arrived at the hospital, and there was still no word from the operating room. I knew no news wasn’t necessarily bad news. It meant they were still working hard to save his life. I also knew that it didn’t matter.

  I was dangerously close to a massive heart attack.

  Nurses and doctors rushed in and out of the room, wearing bloodied uniforms and grave frowns. I shamelessly pounced on them, demanding answers, but they shook me off every time.

  The waiting room thickened with people. At first, I failed to notice it, too wrapped up in running all possible scenarios and outcomes to Sam’s condition in my head, but now, lifting my gaze from my lap, I saw it.

  Troy, Sparrow, Cillian, Hunter, Devon, my parents, and Sailor were here now, together but alone, each of us shaken to the core.

  The distress for Sam’s well-being was thick in the air, hanging like fog above our heads.

  Troy was on the phone, barking orders, demanding action, no doubt trying to find more information about the attack, planning how to strike back at the Bratva. Sparrow looked so frail, I was afraid if I reached out and touched her she would break.

  I moved over to her. “It’ll be okay,” I whispered, trying to convince myself the same in the process.

  Hunter had told me the bullets pierced Sam’s shoulder and chest. It was hard to estimate the damage when I had no concrete information.

  Finally—finally—a middle-aged doctor in stained scrubs with sweaty temples came out of the operating room. I was the first to dart in his direction, with Sparrow following closely behind me.

  “Hello, I’m Dr. McKinnley. Are you the wife?” He turned to me.

  “I will be soon.” I jerked Sparrow close to me. “This is his mother. Please tell us how he is doing.”

  He ran his gaze over me skeptically. He wasn’t supposed to hand out information to those who weren’t Sam’s kin.

  “Aisling is a doctor here, too. An OB-GYN,” Sparrow explained, putting a protective hand over my shoulder. “You can tell her.”

  The doctor shot me another look and turned his focus back to Sparrow.

  “It was a close call. He is still not out of the woods yet. The main issue isn’t the shoulder wound. We removed the bullet, and although it’s still early to tell, it is my belief that the bullet did not tear through more than muscle tissue and did not touch any of the nerves. Our main concern was the chest wound. It hit too close to home, to put it bluntly. In close proximity to the heart. It took us three hours to remove the bullet alone. He lost a lot of blood. The next twenty-four hours will be critical. We’re moving him to the recovery room as we speak. He needs a good rest. I cannot stress that enough. For that reason, we would prefer if he sees one visitor at a time.”

  Sparrow and I exchanged glances. I didn’t dare hope. She was his mom, after all. She deserved to see him first. My future mother-in-law squeezed my hand in hers.

  “Over two decades ago I told Sam that one day a woman would walk into his life and prove to him that he doesn’t hate all women. He put up a good fight, I’ll give him that, but I think you finally broke him. It’s you he’ll want to see when he opens his eyes. In fact, I am told by Troy that he specifically asked for you when he was rushed here. You should go.”

  “Are you sure?” I bit my lower lip.

  She smiled, pain marring her expression. “Absolutely positive, dear.”

  I followed Dr. McKinnley along the narrow linoleum hallway like a punished kid, not sure what was waiting for me at the end of the journey. When the surgeon pushed the door open, he said, “Remember, he is frail right now, even if he doesn’t look it.”

  I nodded, closing the door after me and staring at Sam from a safe distant. I was a doctor. I’d seen blood and gore in my life. But there was something about Sam’s pain that was too intimate and real to me. He lay there with his eyes closed, this beast of a man, so imposing, so imperial, and yet so quiet and boyish right now.

  “Oh, Sam.” I cupped my mouth, rushing to the foot of the bed, sinking down to the floor and burying my face next to his arm. “What have they done to you? Please make it through this. Please.”

  Tears coa
ted every inch of my face. I moaned loudly, howling, making noises I had no idea I was capable of. He was finally mine, and I was losing him.

  It was the sort of cruelty I couldn’t fathom.

  “There is so much I have to tell you. So much news. You can’t die on me now. It’s a highly inconvenient time, Sam. What kind of gentleman are you?” I huffed.

  I thought I felt him move slightly next to me, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t even groan, so obviously I was just imagining it.

  “I quit my job. I’ll be on the lookout for residencies. I need you to help me sort through them. And what about kids? I want a lot of them, and we need to start practicing. Then there’s the Cillian and Hunter matter. Who will annoy them, if you die?”

  Another small movement. I jerked my head upright, studying Sam’s face closely. His eyes were still shut, his breathing labored. I stared at him as I opened my mouth, cautiously speaking again.

  “Of course, if you die on me now, at some point in the future—very far in the future—I’ll be able to get over you and move on. But for now, I just want you to—”

  Sam’s hand moved slightly. He grabbed my wrist and tugged me to him, his eyes snapping open. He groaned in pain at the sudden movement and flashed me a canine scowl.