It feels like my eyelids weigh a thousand pounds, but I push past the anguish and slowly open my eyes. Everything is fuzzy, and when I attempt to rub my eyes, I realize my arm is heavier than my eyelids felt thanks to the plaster cast on it.
“She’s awake!” I’d recognize that voice anywhere.
Eva.
“Don’t ever do that to me again!” She throws herself onto me, hugging me tightly.
I try to hug her back, but it hurts to breathe.
“Why are you here?” I croak, and soon flinch because who knew even speaking would be painful?
“I wouldn’t go back home when you were missing,” she replies, thankfully loosening her grip a little. “I couldn’t. I knew you’d come back. That’s why I stayed.”
“Is Mom okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine. Stop worrying about everyone else. You’re the one who looks like they got their ass beat in a UFC cage match.”
Nice to know I look as shitty as I feel.
Ethan enters with a glass of water, and when Eva turns to look at him, her cheeks turning bright red, I see there is another reason she stayed.
Oh, boy.
“I brought ye some water,” he says, placing the glass on the bedside table.
Eva smiles and gently untangles herself from me, coming to a stand. “You’re so thoughtful.”
And now my stomach hurts, and I want to puke from this PDA.
Hannah appears a moment later, standing in the doorway because the room is small and it’s a tight squeeze. “Thank God yer okay. I knew ye would be.”
Smiling, I shift against the pillows and lean against the wooden bedhead. “You should see the other guy,” I quip, attempting to whistle, but it sounds like a balloon deflating.
Everyone laughs, but it’s strained, and that’s because no one wants to address the big fat elephant in the room—where is Punky?
However, when I hear a banshee scream and footsteps pounding against the hallway, it seems the elephant has come charging.
“How dare you take him!” screams Aoife, not bothered that the room is already full.
Eva, Ethan, and Hannah walk into the kitchen sheepishly, not interested in being a part of this shitshow.
“My wrist is broken, not my hearing. There’s no need to scream,” I taunt, which just infuriates her further.
“Don’tcha be smart with me! You took my son!”
“Well, Aoife,” I smugly reply, wanting her to know I’m aware of who she is. “You handcuffed me to a bed. You fed me stale bread and water. And you let me rot in my own piss and shit. So, I’d say we’re even.”
The room becomes smaller, and my heart commences a deafening staccato.
She blanches, and that’s because of the man who towers behind her—the man who has stolen my breath from the first moment we met.
“Is that true?” Punky asks smoothly, his poker face in play. “Did ye treat her like a…prisoner?”
She turns over her shoulder, her bravado soon dying as she tugs at the gold crucifix around her throat. “Puck, I—”
“Answer my question. Now,” he interrupts, not interested in her excuses.
“Sean told me she was hurtin’ ya,” she cries, begging he shows mercy. “I did it for yer own good.”
She reaches out to touch his cheek, and just as I’m about to throw off the blanket, ready to take this bitch down, Puck seizes her wrist in midair.
“Maybe I should break your wrist then?” he poses, jaw clenched as she whimpers.
“Yer hurtin’ me.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m not.”
A shiver runs through me because there he is—my feral, vicious Punky who shows no mercy to anyone. And this bitch deserves none after everything she’s done.
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
I curl my lip, disgusted by how easily she surrendered.
“I’m not the one ya should be apologizing to.”
Her whimpers grow louder, and when she focuses on me, I see it—utter hatred. She wants Puck for herself, and no matter her story that she thought she was doing the right thing, I know she can’t be trusted. She will do everything in her power to have her happy family without me in it.
Punky releases her, but stands close, sensing a fight brewing. “I’m sorry, Camilla. I did not know. Sean said you—”
“Save your breath,” I snap, not interested in her bullshit. “You knew the difference between right and wrong, and what you did was wrong, very wrong. So I don’t accept your apology.”
Her eyes narrow while I dare her to say another word to me.
“I understand,” she finally replies. “Shay told me you looked after him.”
Punky’s jaw clenches.
We have so much to talk about, but something is…wrong. I can’t put my finger on it, but he’s avoiding eye contact with me. I wasn’t expecting a reunion filled with roses and rainbows, but I was at least expecting him to be able to look at me.
“He’s a good kid,” I reply, averting my eyes.
The silence is deafening and just adds to the pounding in my temples.
“I’ll give ya some time alone,” Aoife says as if she’s doing us a favor, and I’m the intruder, not her.
I shift against the pillows, focusing on the floral bedspread instead of Punky as he enters the room. His footsteps are measured. He’s nervous too.
This isn’t the first time we’ve been reunited after tragic events, but it feels different.
He doesn’t sit. He stands by my bedside, the silence continuing.
Tears prick my eyes, but I sniff them back because crying won’t solve a thing. I want to ask him so many things, but I don’t know where to start. We’ve been broken before, but this time, it hurts so much more.
With the gentlest of touches, Punky reaches out and lifts my chin. The moment we lock eyes, I feel whole again. But there is so much pain reflected behind his blue gaze.
He examines me slowly, tenderly rubbing his thumb over my chin. I remain perfectly still, caught under his spell. I’ve dreamed of this day.
His hair is tousled, his beard unkempt. A savage fresh scar on his face has me gasping.
“Wh-what happened?”
He jolts as though my voice shook him from a daydream. “Cormac,” he replies, and I arch a brow, confused. Why would Rory’s dad do something so cruel?
Unless…
“What did you do?” I whisper, almost afraid of the answer.
He rubs his thumb over my bottom lip, appearing transfixed by it. “I did everythin’ ya think I did. Rory betrayed us…and he paid with his life.”
I blink once, his blunt statement winding me. “You…ki-killed him?”
“Aye, I did,” he confesses without remorse while my stomach drops.
I think I’m going to be sick.
Reaching for the glass of water Ethan left me, I gulp it down, Punky’s words playing on a loop as my mind refuses to accept them as truth.
“How could you?” I cry, my voice uneven. “I know what he did was wrong, but he was your friend. He meant something to both of us.”
“And that’s why I killed him,” he counters without feeling.
The glass trembles in my hand. Now I know why things feel so different this time.