“Sorry, pal. You don’t get to do that to Parker.”
“Better off without me,” he grunts, a soft groan following the anguish in his words.
“You may think that, but he doesn’t, and this may shock you, but I trust him more than I do you.”
A burst of air shoots from his nostrils, an almost laugh that makes me grin.
“Dominic’s on it.” Parker breaks up our private therapy session, rushing back into the room.
“Come.” I usher him over unnecessarily. “Shine the light of your cell onto the wound. Let’s get our god of stupidity all sewn up.”
“Thank you, Ryn,” Parker whispers.
The words echo around the room like a tornado, swirling in and out of my ears like a thick barrel of wind, demanding I hear them. My throat closes over at the distress in his tone, at the complete and utter desperation.
Looking at Parker Shay, you’d be forgiven for making your assumptions. Tall and broad, tattoos peek along the thick line of his neck. They drip down his arms, wrapping his hands in a multitude of colors. His eyes shine in hostility to those who don’t know him, the set line of his jaw communicating the same. But if you dig deeper, if you take the time to know him, it’s easy enough to recognize the scared and uncertain boy he once was.
I don’t acknowledge his thank you, not trusting my throat to open up enough to let my words release evenly. I would be expected to tell him he’s welcome. Of course, I’d help. But he knows the truth. We both know he backed me into a corner, pitchfork of expectation and burden aimed at my heart. He, Codi, and my father forced my hand and I refuse to push away my resentment toward them for that.
I let my thoughts wander away, focusing on the broken tissue and blood in front of me. I lose myself in repairing muscle, in sewing together Rocco’s skin.
His body is an ode to violence. Muscles like stone, skin marred with scars of battles fought. Fresh ones like warning signs of a warrior still standing. Others, old enough to twist at your heart, knowing they were gained in adolescence.
He falls in and out of consciousness as I work, mumbling incoherently, grunting in pain involuntarily.
“Did he tell you what happened?”
Parker’s eyes fall against my profile. “No. A guy we know through Ruin found him. He’d been knocked out, copped a nice blow to the back of the head.”
I glance up at him. “Pull his eyelid up for me,” I instruct.
He does so without delay.
I lean in. “Not dilated,” I murmur.
“Back of his head just looks like a surface wound,” he offers. “It had stopped bleeding by the time he’d woken up.”
“No other signs of a nasty concussion?” I refocus on my hand, indicating Parker move the light back to where I’m working. I concentrate on the needle, watching it slide through Rocco’s skin without issue.
“Mac said he was walkin’ okay, aside from the limp from the knife wound. Told him Carmichael was a dead man, so, coherent enough to throw out threats.”
“Carmichael?”
I feel Parker shrug beside me, anger bristling under his not-so-calm exterior. “No idea. Mac said he’d found him outside some dive where illegal fights pop up from time to time.”
“Sleep is probably good for him then,” I offer. “He hasn’t vomited or slurred his words?”
“Nah,” Parker offers, hand resting on his brother’s leg.
A comfortable silence settles between us, me working, Parker watching on in interest.
“Don’t think I ever apologized to you for the shit Rocco and I started.”
I pause for a beat, clearing my throat on a roll of my shoulders.
“I have to Codi a million times over, a few less to Dominic, but never to you.”
My eyebrows pull together, working to push out his ill-timed apology. “You have their forgiveness, you don’t need mine.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he mumbles. “It’s nice having a family again, Ryn. Roc and I forgot what it felt like.”
I frown. “Bullshit,” I lash out. “You had one another, you had Mira.”
He nods, unbothered by my show of anger. “Mm-hm, but we were too caught up in our own pain to appreciate it all. Codi healed those wounds for me. She taught me that life, no matter how shitty and painful it is, will continue. The sun’ll still rise in the east and you’ll breathe for another day.”
A heavy exhale drifts across my shoulder.
“I should’ve learned all this from my mom’s death, better late than never though, eh? Until your heart stops... there’s always a new fucking day.”
My heart spasms in my chest and I stop what I’m doing to look him in the eye. I can’t determine if what he said was truthful; if it was his new philosophy, or if it goes deeper. If it was aimed at me, or more likely an excuse for his older brother.
“My brother hasn’t found a way to heal his wounds,” he explains. “His sun never rises, Ryn. It’s all fuckin’ dark. Most of the time, he’s ready to give up and Mira only lives in our memories now.”
He clears his throat, the thickness in his voice giving way with the forced cough. “What I’m trying to say is that you guys are my family, so I’m sorry for threatenin’ your people, not lyin’ when I say it’s a guilt that I’ll carry forever.”
“All finished,” I announce louder than necessary, unsure how to respond. “I’m gonna clean up. Hopefully, Dad’s contact will come through with some fluids and blood.”
He remains quiet, moving into the space I sat to rest his hands atop his brothers.
“You’re forgiven.” I stop, turning on my foot to look at him. “Only because in a small way I saw you as a victim in this fucked up situation. I saw the conflict in your eyes, I felt it. It’s always been obvious to me that you didn’t set anything in motion.” I pause, letting a soft breath go before speaking again. “It was all Rocco. I saw the way you wanted to move away from everything in your past; the hurt, the anger, the hostility. Rocco wanted to watch it grow. He took the person he was supposed to protect and forced him into a corner he had no hope of escaping. You’re forgiven because the moment you were finally set free from your father and uncle, you fell into the trap of someone just as dangerous. Maybe even more so, because you trusted him to know what was best for you.”
I look at his brother, unconscious, the steady rise and fall of his chest comforting me. I don’t need to communicate that Rocco will never have my forgiveness. He’s as poisonous and damaging as Sarah and Marcus were. Their fates are aligned and I don’t wish for them to be pleasant.
Chapter Six
Camryn
I walk into the dining room, stomach grumbling in anticipation. Having just finished a twenty-hour shift, I’ve survived on little but stale coffee and a bran muffin from the hospital cafeteria.
Barf.
I’m famished and as close to an extra on The Walking Dead than I’ve ever been.
“You look awful.”
I blink at Codi. “Thank you.” I place a hand on my heart. “That’s so sweet.”
“She always looks like that.”