His face was barely recognizable beneath the gauze, tape, and bandages. His left eye was hidden behind a white bandage, while the bridge of his nose was taped up. The bruising and swelling around his right eye so extensive that even when he was awake, it was hard to tell.
Biting down on my lip, I smothered a sob and reached over to brush his hair off his forehead, only to expose more bruising.
It was everywhere.
Every inch of his skin told a story of vicious abuse at the hands of a monster.
The raw welts on his back that I discovered when helping him undress last night had caused everything in my stomach to come back up.
There was no hiding what had happened to him.
His father’s belt had left welts deeply imbedded into his flesh.
Forcing myself to be strong for him, I remained right by his side, unwilling to leave him for longer than it took me to grab a cup of tea from the vending machine. Mam had called countless times, begging me to come home for a shower and to have something decent to eat, but I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t leave him.
I never would.
The Garda Siochana had come and gone, looking for statements from my boyfriend that he was in no fit state to make. Social workers, a Garda victim service officer, not to mention many other authority figures had made an appearance, too.
Nanny Murphy had somehow managed to get ahold of my phone number and had called several times to check on her great-grandson and to relay messages to Joey, but that was it.
She was the only one.
Not once since he was wheeled into triage had I caught a glimpse of Marie Lynch.
I understood that Shannon was in a bad way, Nanny had told me that she had a collapsed lung, but Joey was hurt, too, dammit.
He had a fractured skull for fuck’s sake!
It was a wonder that his brain wasn’t complete mush.
The doctor said it himself; it was a miracle that he was still here.
“Molloy.” Releasing a pained groan, Joey covered my hand with his and blinked his one good eye open. “What did I tell ya about crying?”
Sniffling, I forced a smile and whispered, “Hey, stud.”
“Hey, queen.” His voice was raspy and torn. “Nice legs.”
I choked out a sob. “Nice everything.”
“Don’t cry for me.”
“I’m not.” I forced a brighter smile. “Your nose is pancaked again.”
“Hm.” He grunted out a breath. “What’s new.”
“I think it’s sexy.” Sniffling, I lifted his hand to my mouth and kissed all of his torn knuckles. “You’ve got the roughed-up bad boy look down to a tee.”
“How’s my baby?”
“Still cooking?”
“How’s my other baby?”
“I’m okay, Joe,” I breathed. “We’re both fine.”
“Good.” His eyelid fluttered shut. “I need you to be okay.”
“I am okay, Joe.”
“Both of you.”
“Both of us are fine.”
“I need it to stay that way,” he whispered, giving my hand a squeeze. “It’s important to me.”
Desperately fighting down the urge I had to climb onto the bed and hold him, I stood up and hovered close instead. “You’re important to us.” Leaning down, I pressed a lingering kiss to his clammy forehead. “You’re everything to us.”
“I want the baby, queen.”
Sniffling, I nodded. “I know, stud.”
“I heard the heartbeat.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“It’s really in there.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We made a baby.”
“Yeah, Joe, we did.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know you are. It’s okay.”
“When can I get out of here, Aoif?”
“The doctors want to keep you in for a few days for observation,” I explained, fingers trailing over his swollen face. “We’re just waiting on a bed upstairs to become available.”
“No,” he groaned, shaking his head. “No, no, fuck that. I’m going home.”
“You’re going to stay here,” I warned, snatching up the hand he was attempting to use to pull his IV line out. “You have one hell of a concussion, Joe. The doctor explained it to me. You need to be here, okay?”
“I need to see Shannon.”
There it is.
“Shannon is fine,” I tried to soothe, sinking down on the edge of his bed, as I gently pinned his hands to his chest to stop him from hurting himself. “She’s being well looked after upstairs, okay?”
“Yeah, but she needs to see me,” he tried to argue, voice croaky and raw. “You don’t get it. I need to be there when she wakes up. She’ll be scared. She won’t know what to say. I need to check on her.”
“Joe.” Cupping his face between my hands, I leaned in close and forced him to look at me. “I promise you that Shannon is fine.” Pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, I avoided stitches on his swollen bottom lip, and mentally willed him to stop thinking about everyone else. “You trust me, don’t you?”
He nodded slowly.
“Good.” I smoothed his hair back and kissed him again. “Then trust me when I tell you that the best thing you can do for Shan is to rest up and heal.”
“Joey?” Marie’s sorrowful voice came from behind the curtain, causing us both to stiffen. “Can I speak to you?”
“No, no, no,” he croaked out, snatching my hand up in his. “I can’t deal with her.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered, nuzzling his good cheek with mine. “I’m here, Joe. I’ve got your back.”
“Fuck.” Blowing out a pained breath, he relented with a stiff nod. “Okay.”
“Come in, Marie.”
The curtain was drawn back, and his mother appeared, looking every bit as small and frail as the last time I’d laid eyes on her.
“Joey.” Her eyes were sunken in her head, clearly swollen from crying, as she took an uncertain step towards us. “Aoife.”
“Marie,” I acknowledged coolly. My gaze flicked to the tall, dark-haired man standing behind her. The suit he was wearing looked too flashy to belong to a social worker, so I pegged him for a solicitor.
God knew she needed one.
“Oh, Joey, baby.” Sniffling, his mother moved for his bed, but stopped when she realized that I had no intention of getting out of her way.
I couldn’t if I wanted to.
Joey had a death grip on my hand.
“How are you feeling?” Marie asked him. “Your poor face.”
My boyfriend didn’t respond.
He didn’t move a muscle.
His face was void of all emotion as he continued to stare at the man standing behind his mother.
“Hey kid,” the man said, tone thick with emotion, as he stared straight past me, attention riveted on my boyfriend. “It’s been a while.”
It’s been a while?
Brows furrowing, I swung my gaze on the man and studied his familiar face.
High cheekbones.
Dark brown hair.
Puffy swollen lips.
Eyes the color of midnight blue.
“Crap,” I strangled out, quickly putting two and two together and coming up with a big fat Darren. “It’s you.”