Craving Resurrection
Page 90

Mum’s body. No longer simply her, but suddenly a thing.
My mother was dead. A part of me couldn’t fully grasp the meaning of those words, but the rest of me felt heavy in a way I’d never experienced before. I’d felt loss before, my da, men I’d lived with, and a woman I’d loved—but I didn’t think that anything had ever come close to the feeling of knowing I’d never again hear my mum’s scolding voice.
I missed her already, and I wished for a moment that Brenna was with me. I didn’t think she even really remembered my mum, she’d stopped visiting so long ago. It was a shame that she’d missed so much time with her nan, but when Mum had insisted that she didn’t want to see my girl, I hadn’t argued. I understood why she’d felt the need to stay away, even if I hadn’t agreed with it. Brenna had already lost too much in her short life—I hated the thought of her losing even more.
As my eyes grew heavy, I rolled to my side so I faced the door to the bedroom, tucking a still sleeping Amy against my back. I had so many questions filling up my mind that I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to sleep, but I knew I wouldn’t be getting my answers that morning. My wife was devastated—completely broken—and I knew deep in my gut that if I brought up the past while she was in that frame of mind, I might never get the answers I was looking for.
***
“Who the fuck are you?”
The angry words woke me from a deep sleep and I automatically went for the pistol that should have been on the floor next to the bed. Shit. I’d left it in my truck.
“What are you doin’ in my house? Huh? Where’s my nan?”
I looked up to see a large kid staring down on me from the doorway, a shotgun in his arms and no shoes on his feet. His skin was light, his body was in that unfortunate stage where it was getting taller but not yet wider, his hair was almost black and his nose was a bit big for his face. I knew immediately who he was, and I had to force myself not to cringe when I saw Malcolm’s eyes staring back at me.
“Mum?” he asked in confusion as Amy sat up behind me.
Shit, I didn’t know if I should force her back down or let her talk some sense into the kid—I didn’t want to get my ass shot.
“Phoenix Robert Gallagher, if you don’t put that damn gun away, I’m going to beat you bloody!” she snapped, her voice husky from sleep.
“Mum?” Damn, it was fucking odd hearing him call her mum in that Texas accent.
“Get out, Nix,” she ordered. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
He nodded and glared at me as he stepped out the door, and as he began to walk away, she yelled at him again. “Nix, close the door and lock up the gun!”
The door slammed with a loud bang, and suddenly I was lying in a quiet room with the most beautiful woman in the world.
“How ye doin’, love?” I asked, rolling to my back so I could look at her.
“I feel like shit, how about you?”
I snorted at the apt description, then gave her a nod. “About de same. Can’t believe she’s gone.”
“Me, either. And now I’ve got to go out there and tell my son.”
“I t’ink he already knows.”
“Yeah, but I’m still his mother… he needs the confirmation from me.”
“Want me to go wit’ ye?”
“No, can you stay in here for a while?” She looked sorry for asking, but I sure as hell understood her reasoning. The boy had just held a fucking gun on me. He wouldn’t want me witnessing the moment he learned his nan was dead.
“Sure t’ing, gorgeous.”
“Stop being charming,” she grumbled as she rolled away from me and off the side of the bed onto her feet. “I’m immune to it.”
“Ye care if I get a couple more hours of sleep?” I asked, not even sure that I’d be able to sleep, but afraid if I was awake she’d kick me out before I was ready.
“Nope, stay as long as you want.”
“Appreciate it.”
I watched her move around the room, pulling on a pair of sweatpants with some odd looking mascot on the side of them, and a long blue robe with frogs printed all over it. She moved as if I wasn’t even there, braiding those long ropes of hair and slipping on some socks that didn’t match.
“Why’d ye do dat to yer hair?” I asked for the first time.
“It grew in that way,” she answered in an odd tone.
“No, de dreadlocks. Why’d ye do it?”
She paused for a moment at the door, then turned to look at me.
“Do you remember the way you used to run your fingers through it?” She asked with a bemused smile, then waited until I nodded in confirmation before she continued. “It wasn’t the same after it was cut off. It was rough and … I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone rubbing their fingers through it.”
“So now they can’t.”
“Right.”
She left then, and I lay on the bed wondering if the real reason she’d done it was because she didn’t want me running my fingers through it.
Perhaps it no longer mattered.
Chapter 47
Amy
“How did you get into my safe?” I asked as I strode to the coffee machine on the counter. God, I felt like I hadn’t slept in weeks. My entire body felt heavy.
“I know the combination,” Phoenix grumbled, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. “Who’s the homeless guy?”