Chapter Seven
Sasha
I’m sitting on mom’s bed, watching her favorite true crime shows. I narrate them for her since she isn’t really able to see them for herself. I don’t know if she can even hear me, but I like to tell her who I think did it and add my own reasons to their motive.
Just like we used to do.
Those days are never going to happen again. She still hasn’t woken. It’s been two days. Her skin is growing more pallid by the hour, and I know the end is coming soon.
I’m angry with her. I’m angry that she decided to give up, even though that isn’t fair. I want her to fight. I want to be selfish and demand that she stay a little longer. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. The medication she’s on makes her sleep all the time, and I worry that she’ll go before I get a chance to say anything at all. Emily’s flying back home in two days. It’s all becoming too real.
Amy said she would taper off the dosage of her medication before she progresses to the point of no return. It still doesn’t comfort me. Because getting that chance doesn’t change the words that won’t come. What am I going to say to her? How do you tell someone you love so much goodbye?
My phone beeps from the dresser beside me, and I consider ignoring it. Nobody ever texts me unless it’s work. One of the other dancers probably called in sick. I don’t feel like working tonight. But I don’t feel like sitting in this house and watching my mother die either. I’m not spoiled for choices, so I pick up the phone.
I’m surprised to see it’s Mack. After one glance at her message, I’m up and out the door before I can even give it any thought. I don’t know where I’m going. The only thing I know is that I need to get to him.
***
By the time Rory and Conor’s cars pull up to Lachlan’s house, I’ve nearly worn a hole in the pavement from my pacing.
Mack jumps out of one car, barking out instructions as Michael and Rory carry Lachlan up the stairs.
“Where is he?” I demand.
“Conor’s helping him,” Mack says, pointing at the other car.
I rush over to help, and the sight of Ronan lying in the backseat with his face beaten makes me irrationally angry.
“How could you let him do this?” I yell at Conor. “He needs to see a doctor.”
“The doctor cleared him to come home,” Conor answers. “And there’s another on the way. And for the record, I don’t have any say over what Ronan or Lachlan does.”
Rory appears at my side a moment later, giving me a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “Hey, Sash. He’s going to be just fine, okay? Now step aside so we can get him in the house.”
I do as he says, watching as they lift his limp body up into their arms. I feel like I should be doing something. Helping somehow. Ronan’s always been so strong, I never imagined seeing him like this. I never imagined anything could ever actually hurt him. That he’d ever let anyone close enough to.
The guys carry him inside and I’m hot on their heels.
They heave Ronan onto the sofa and then Rory gives Conor some instructions while I walk into the kitchen and grab a wet cloth. When I come back out Rory is gone and only Conor is sitting in the parlor.
I kneel down beside Ronan and wipe away the blood on his face when Conor hovers over me with a nervous expression.
“I’m not so sure you should be doing that,” Conor says. “He went sort of nuts at the fight and they had to sedate him after. He said not to let anyone touch him. He was very, very clear about that.”
“Well I’m not anyone,” I argue. “And I don’t care what the stubborn bastard said. I’m cleaning him up.”
Conor remains quiet while I continue to do just that, but it’s obvious he doesn’t like it. There isn’t a single part of me that cares what he thinks. I know Ronan is his superior. He gives out instructions, and Conor has to follow them. That’s the way it works in the mob. But I’m not one of their lackeys, and I’m sure as hell not going to follow a ridiculous order at a time like this.
Ronan was there for me when I needed him. And as distant and strained as our relations are right now that’s not going to stop me from being there for him too.
He has a cut just above his eyebrow that’s been packed with some sort of salve, but there’s still blood trickling out of the wound. I wipe away what I can and then check his head and neck.
“The doctor will be here soon,” Conor offers in another effort to get me to stop.
I ignore him and sit down beside Ronan on the sofa while we wait, watching his chest rise and fall in an even and steady rhythm. It reassures me, at least a little, that he’s going to be okay. When the doctor finally does come, he tends to Lachlan first, which only serves to irritate me further.
By the time he comes out to check on Ronan, it’s been over an hour since they brought him here. An hour of putting his health on the line, and for what? Another surge of anger moves through me, and I only have one place to direct it. I wait to see what the doctor does with Ronan, which isn’t much, but he does manage to rouse him for a few moments. Just hearing his voice, no matter how briefly, calms me. He’s going to be okay, the doc says. He’s going to be just fine.
But that’s not true. Because how can anyone be just fine when they’ve been beaten to a pulp like that. I’m pissed off. And all I can think about is how this happened. Why this happened. Once the doctor’s done and out the front door, I walk down the hall to Lachlan’s room to find Mack sitting on the bed. He’s passed out too, and in about as good of shape as Ronan.
Mack looks up at me, and there are tears in her eyes. I don’t care.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demand.
She blinks at me in confusion. I’ve never yelled at her before. I like Mack. I respect her. And I’m grateful for what she’s done for me. But that doesn’t stop me from being angry at her right now too.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t know they were going to do it until it was happening.”
“But you let it happen anyway, didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t stop it,” she says. “I’m sorry, Sash.”
Her voice is sincere. She’s genuinely as sick as I am over what happened, but right now I don’t care. I want to lash out at her. And it isn’t until the words are out of my mouth that I even understand why.
“He did this for you,” I snarl. “Ronan did this for you.”
Mack stands up and reaches out towards me tentatively. “That isn’t true, Sash. He did it for Lachlan.”
“No,” I argue. “He talks to you. Why? Why can he talk to you, but not me?”
Again, Mack stares at me in confusion. “He doesn’t talk to you?”
“No,” I bite out. “He never says one fucking word to me. But you come in here, and he has no problem talking to you. Or fighting for you…”
My words drift off as Mack pulls me in for an unexpected hug. I know she doesn’t like to hug. But she’s hugging me now. And it turns out to be the thing I needed because I break down in her arms.
I don’t know why. I’m just emotional with everything that’s happening. With my mom and Ronan and all of the unknown changes I’m facing in the future. That’s what I tell myself.
“You should just try to talk to him, Sasha,” Mack says as she pulls away. “Believe me when I say Ronan never talks to me by choice. I usually just annoy the hell out of him until I get him to talk.”
I smile through bleary eyes and wipe my tears away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
“It’s okay,” she says. “I would yell at me too.”
“I should go sit with him.”
She nods, but then gives my arm a little squeeze. “Hey, Sash, for what it’s worth, I talked to Lachlan.”
“Oh.” I swallow. “And?”
“And he said you can go. He’d even help you out if you need him to. He just wants to talk to you about it first.”
I should be happy with that. But I’m not and I can’t figure out why. So I just give Mack a weak smile and a nod. “Thank you.”