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Craving Resurrection

Page 18

   


I shoved Patrick away a step, and he finally raised his head. He’d cooled down in the few seconds since we’d heard Kevie’s voice, and there was no trace of the desperation or anger he’d shown when he’d arrived.
“What are ye doin’ here?”
“Got a call dat Robbie’d been into Maloney’s for a pint, so I stopped by yer mum’s. She sent me here.”
“Well, everyt’in’s fine, Fadder Kevin. Go on and baptize some babies or bless a fuckin’ house.”
“I’m not here as a priest,” Kevie replied quietly, unable to hold back the traces of hurt and exasperation in his voice. “I’m here as yer friend.”
“A friend wouldn’t have stopped what I was doin’.”
Kevie looked between Patrick and I, his jaw tight. “A good friend would’ve.”
Patrick jerked, and his gaze flew toward where I was still standing unsteadily against the wall. I didn’t understand half of what they were talking about, but I knew the instant Patrick regretted what he’d done. He looked ashamed.
“I’m sorry, lass.”
“You’re sorry?” I replied uncomfortably.
“Amy—”
I shook my head as he tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t force myself to say another word. I was so embarrassed I just wanted to leave. Not only had the neighborhood priest caught us making out like the horny teenager I was, but with a few chosen words, he’d somehow made Patrick regret it and me feel like a complete idiot.
“Me Da—”
“Really? That’s what you want to talk about?” I practically yelled the words.
“Um, no. I don’t really…”
“It’s time for you to go.” I moved to the door and opened it, staring at the men impatiently. “Well?” I swept my arm toward the street.
Patrick’s nostrils flared at my attitude, but Kevie seemed to be silently laughing as he passed me with a nod. God, that priest was unlike any I’d ever met.
“We’re goin’ to talk about dis,” Patrick ordered as he paused in the doorway. “I shouldn’t have—”
“No, probably not,” I replied before he could finish his sentence. “But it’s no big deal.”
He sighed in frustration as his fist clenched, “Yer only seventeen.”
“Almost eighteen—but who’s counting?” I waved my hand again to usher him out, but before I could evade him, he was gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his eyes.
“We will be discussin’ dis. It’s not at all what ye t'ink, but I need to go back and check on me mum and yer parents will be home soon.”
I would have gladly dropped into the middle of a black hole in that moment, while he stood there staring at me and I tried valiantly not to cry. Patrick had given me the first kiss I’d had in two years, and within moments had completely crushed any enjoyment I’d gotten out of it. He hadn’t just said he was sorry, I could tell by looking at him that he really was sorry. No matter what his reason for regretting the kiss, he’d tainted it.
“Sure. See you soon,” I said with a nod, pulling my face away.
He left without another word, and after he’d gone, I spent more time than I should have leaning against the closed front door while I stared at the wall he’d pressed me up against. The most incredibly sexy moment of my entire life had been something he was ashamed of.
I decided then that I’d avoid him as much as I could until he left for school again. We didn’t need to talk; it would be better for everyone if we forgot anything had ever happened.
Unfortunately, Patrick Gallagher had other ideas… and as much as I hated to admit it, I was beginning to realize that he usually got what he wanted.
Chapter 10
Amy
“I’m going to bed,” I called to my parents from the doorway of my room.
I wasn’t sure why I still did things like that—apprised them of my movements as if they actually cared one way or the other. I think it had become a habit, a way of making them acknowledge me in some small way. Even if they didn’t care what I was doing, they couldn’t escape the knowledge if I gave it to them deliberately. It was a subtle fuck you, one that wasn’t noticeable from my tone or manner, but was there just the same.
They murmured back in response as they cuddled on the couch, my dad’s arm wrapped tightly around my mom’s shoulders in an uncommon show of intimacy. It made me shudder in revulsion, knowing that she must have made him very happy during their time away for him to treat her so gently. I refused to let my mind contemplate what she could have done with their ‘new friends’ that would warrant such behavior.
They’d gotten home right after I’d finished the sandwich that was my dinner, my mom giggling softly like a young girl as my dad led her through the doorway. I was sure that any other child on the planet would have felt comforted by the tableau, but it only made my stomach turn in apprehension. He was pleased with her, and she was glowing in his approval, and I hated knowing that whatever had happened was probably worse than I could even imagine.
Neither of my parents said a word about the man they’d sent to the house the day before. Other than the appraising look my mom gave me as she passed me in the hallway later, not one word was spoken about what or who I had done that weekend. It was as if nothing had changed, like the small bit of trust I’d had for them hadn’t completely vanished like a puff of smoke from a cigarette on a windy day.