Nash (39 page)

God, I just loved her.

“I need you.” My voice cracked when I said it, and the feelings I was treading through just to keep my

head above them started to rise up again.

“I know you do, and I need to be here for you. That’s how love works.” She reached for my hand and

gave it a squeeze. “How is he?”

I shook my head and let it fall forward. She curled a hand around the back of my neck and brushed a

kiss across the stubbly ridge of my cheek.

“Getting worse by the day. I haven’t left his side very much. He drifts in and out, forgets where he is,

what time in his life it is. The nurses seem to think it’s only a matter of days, if not hours.”

She pulled me closer and I let myself sort of fold into her embrace. Her hair was so soft and she smelled

like spring and sunshine even though it was the middle of the night.

“I’m sorry. This has to be awful. Can I do anything for you?”

I kissed her behind the ear and felt her shiver against me. “This is it. Unless you want to relent and go

get me a pack of smokes and some booze.”

She pulled back and gave me a scowl. I grinned at her.

“I’m just kidding. Just having you here makes it suck less. I’m so glad you can finally see how

wonderful you are.”

“Well, I might have moments here or there still, so be patient with me, but I realize that if someone as

great, as talented, as caring as you can be in love with me, then I must be pretty special.”

The only answer I had to that was to kiss her again. At another time, in any other place, I would have

found the nearest place I could just lose myself inside her, but as happy as I was that she was here, that she

was officially mine, I still had other pressing matters on hand. I sighed against her lips and closed my eyes.

“I have to stay with Phil. I can’t be somewhere else if he goes.”

She sighed back and we were just breathing each other in and out.

“I’m not going anywhere, Nash. If you’re here, then so am I.”

I wanted to argue with her. I wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of her seeing me such a mess and so

vulnerable, but I had to admit having her around to lean on sounded nice. I gulped and led her back to the

room Phil was in. She put a hand to her mouth and I saw her fingers shake. A glossy coating of fresh tears

sprang into those heartbreaking eyes, but she shook it off and broke away from me to walk over to the

bedside. Her eyes were everywhere and she touched his wrist with delicate fingers. I realized belatedly as I

slumped into the recliner that she was doing her nurse thing. She stood there for a long minute and then

turned back to me with a devastated expression. I went to get up so I could get another chair, but she put

herself firmly in my lap and curled up so that she was cradled against my chest.

“His pulse is really weak, thready; respiration’s shallow and labored.”

“Yeah.”

She shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

I snorted a little and kissed her on the crown of her head. “You keep saying that.”

“Because I really, really am.”

I pulled her as close to me as I could and watched my dad with a hollow feeling in my gut.

“I know you are. He told me not to live a life of regret tonight. He also told me to love you so hard there

would be no getting away from it, and then he asked me to call him Dad.”

My voice broke, and for the first time since this all started, everything I was feeling started to leak out.

Luckily it was dark and the only one who could tell was Saint. Moisture forced its way out of one eye and

got lost in her bright hair.

She put her palm on my heart and tapped her fingers in time with the hasty beat.

“You can do all those things for him.” Her voice was soft and gentle like she was scared she might

spook me.

“Now that you’re here, I can.”

We stayed silent after that, just held each other in the dark and waited to see what the next day would

hold. I knew that whatever it was, we would face it together and that made facing the inevitable slightly

more bearable.

Phil was in and out the next day. Sometimes he knew exactly who I was and he kept grinning at me and

looking at Saint. I urged her to go home, told her she didn’t have to stay since she had already missed

work, but she wasn’t budging. She fluttered around, doing her nursing thing, doing her girlfriend thing, and

I was grateful for it all. Phil made her laugh when he was awake and lucid. He told her broken tales of my

misspent youth with Jet and the Archer twins, which led to a show-and-tell of all my awful tattoos that I

had since covered with other things. He didn’t last long, and she was amazing with him even when I felt

useless and at a loss.

I had a really hard time when he drifted off, when he thought he was somewhere else in a different

time. I wanted to hurt things when he mumbled things about my mom and that disastrous relationship. It

made all the disdain I had for her bubble to the surface and all that old hurt and those feelings of inferiority

percolate and stew. Saint did a good job of reminding me that my mother’s opinion held no weight for me

anymore, and that the people that mattered in my life adored who I was and they wouldn’t change a thing

about me. That she wouldn’t change a single thing about me.

It was early the following morning, really early, the sun wasn’t even up yet, when something changed. I

was napping on and off in the recliner, Saint was asleep on the couch in the other room, but something in

the air shifted and my eyes popped open. I got up and walked to the side of my dad’s bed and looked down

at him. His eyes were at half-mast and I could see, literally see, that he was fighting, struggling to inhale

each breath he was taking. My heart slipped out of rhythm and I knew, just had a gut sense, that this was it.

That last grain of sand in the hourglass was falling down.

“Hey.” I could only whisper and his eyes flickered in my direction.

I couldn’t tell if he could see me anymore, if he could tell who I was at this point, but he lifted a frail

hand and I took it in my own. Emotion clogged my throat as I saw his skeletal-looking chest take longer

and longer to rise and fall. His bony fingers curved over my own and I don’t know if he really said it or I

just wanted him to say it, but I could swear that the words
with you always
floated out and around us

before his eyes drifted shut one last time.

I don’t know how long I stood there, don’t know if I made any noise or not, but he wasn’t breathing

anymore and I was just left holding his hand and staring down at him in numbness. I heard a strangled

sound and looked up to see Saint hovering in the doorway, hands over her mouth and eyes huge in her

face. She knew and she was aching for me.

She walked over and wrapped her arms around my waist from the back and we just stood there, silent

and sorrowful, grieving and a little bit lost.

“I think he told me he would always be with me right before he passed.” I sounded rusty and unsure.

“He will always be with you, Nash. He’s a part of you in everything you do. He’s always going to be

here looking out for you.” I felt one of her fingertips trail over the ridges of my spine, where my dragon

was sleeping and at rest.

“Yeah, but it’s not going to be the same without him.”

Her soft breath fluttered across the back of my neck as I linked a hand over hers where it was lying on

my stomach.

“No, it won’t, but you’ll do your best to make his memory live on.”

Damn straight I would. It was the least I could do after everything Phil had done for not only me, but

the rest of the wayward souls I called my family.

The next few days were chaos. I felt like I was the eye of a storm that raged around me. Saint got down

to business before the sun even came up. She made the arrangements for his body to go where it needed to

and to be handled in the way Phil’s last wishes asked for. In a matter of hours Phil’s condo was full of

people. The girls all banded together to work on the funeral arrangements. Since Phil was going to be

cremated, a viewing was set up for a few days from the day he passed. I had lost the ability to speak, to

interact, and was just responding when spoken to, so it was up to Saint to run the show. My girl who was

shy, hesitant, and nervous, took charge just like she did in the ER and I couldn’t have loved her any more if

I tried. I could tell my friends noticed the way she rallied for me, propped me up, and they all fell a little in

love with her as well. There was no doing any of this without her.

The guys were all tasked with alerting everyone of Phil’s passing. Phones were constantly going off,

questions and answers were flying; one day faded into the next and I was in the center of it all, mostly

numb and unresponsive. At some point I think Rule noticed my comatose state, and while there was a lot of

business and details that still had to be handled, celebrating Phil’s life and the wonderful person he was

definitely needed to be first on the agenda, so he asked Rome to put together a wake at the Bar on the fly.

We were Donovans after all, so it was only fitting.

It was sometime into my third Jameson and Coke, with Saint propped up against my side while the

Pogues played “Waltzing Matilda” and “If I Should Fall from Grace with God” on the jukebox, while

everyone told sloppy sad stories about how Phil had impacted their life, that the chill and unresponsiveness

finally started to fade. I was sad, I was lonely, I was scared, but more than any of that, I was determined to

do my old man proud, and that was what he would want me to focus on.

I pulled Saint close to me. I kissed her on the end of her freckled nose and told her, “Thank you.”

She wrinkled her brows up at me. “For what?”

For everything, but that didn’t really cut it. “For being you.”

Her eyes got all shiny and bright silver like they tended to do when I said something that got to the heart

of her, and she hugged me so hard I couldn’t breathe. I let go, told Phil good-bye in my head, and raised a

toast that had everyone hooting and hollering at the top of their lungs. It was a rousing send-off, a proper

way to say farewell. All of the people Phil had touched, the family he had helped build, honored his

memory and each other while getting properly sauced and living life with no regret.

The viewing was the next day. The girls had found a nice little church close to downtown and it was

almost filled to capacity. Phil had a legion of friends he rode motorcycles with, old navy buddies—

including Cora’s dad, who was holding baby Remy, a bunch of lifelong clients, and enough ex-girlfriends

and lovers that all I could do was shake my head and high five the guy in my head.

All of the gang were standing outside greeting people as they walked in. It was an odd sight, all of us

that were normally so colorful and bright dressed in shades of black and gray. Even Rule’s hair was a

somber, solid black for the occasion. I loved that they all wanted to surround me, that I had a bunch of

arms ready to hold me up if I was going to fall, but I felt pretty solid as long as Saint didn’t wander too far

from my side. She was the rock I needed to stay grounded to here and now.

From inside the church, Johnny Cash’s version of “Danny Boy” started to play and I was subjected to a

backbreaking round of man hugs, and heartbreaking hugs and kisses from the girls. Cora was openly crying

already and I had only ever seen her do that when she was pregnant and when Rome got shot. Rule’s winter

eyes also looked a little glassy and sharp, but he buried his face on top of Shaw’s head to hide it as they

walked inside.

I clasped Saint’s hand and brought it up to my lips so I could kiss her knuckles.

“Ready?”

She opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut again with a frown when the sound of high

heels on cement suddenly interrupted us. I couldn’t believe she was here or that she had the nerve to bring

him. I scowled at both of them.

“What are you doing here?” There was no hiding the bite in my tone.

My mom cleared her throat. “Really, Nashville, how would it look if we weren’t here?”

Seriously? I felt my back teeth snap together.

“I don’t care how it looks. This is a time for Phil’s family, the people that loved him. You made your

choice and it wasn’t either of us, so you can just go.”

I felt Saint’s fingers curl around my elbow.

“You’re being ridiculous.” To my mother I always was.

I opened my mouth to retort when Grant decided he was going to jump into the conversation.

“You always were a selfish brat. Now move out of the way before someone comes out and walks into

this scene. Stop being undignified … if you can manage it.”

I saw red. I was going to rip his throat out. I was going to break his nose. I was going to … pull my

outraged girlfriend back because she stepped in front of me and jabbed the tip of her finger right in the