Connor
When I reach my car, I stop, lay a palm against a nearby tree and feel like I’m going to vomit.
Nothing that just happened sits well with me and my emotions are in a turmoil. I let my demons surface and take over. I was too rough, too demanding. And I was cruel. The things I said were spoken to purposely hurt her and I know my barbed words hit their intended mark. The look on her face told me that I succeeded.
Dropping my head between my shoulders, I squeeze my eyes shut, hating myself for intentionally hurting her – physically and emotionally. “You’re such a bastard,” I hiss.
Dropping my hand, I unlock my car and slip into the driver’s seat. I grip the steering wheel, squeezing it tight, and I feel like I’m being torn apart. “A ghra!”
The endearment tears from my throat and I know that I’ve lost her.
It’s over and there’s nothing I can do except move on and somehow pretend that she no longer exists.
And, I suppose, when it comes to my world, she doesn’t.
Not anymore. The situation is too impossible and we both know it.
Over the next couple of days, I throw myself into work. It’s the only way I know how to keep my mind off Trish. It’s sort of working, but the minute I have a spare second, my thoughts
instantly turn to her. I can’t help it and I start wondering what she’s doing, how she is and if she’s spending time with Antonio. Is she getting to know her fiance better?
Talking and laughing with him?
Kissing him the way she kissed me? Has he fucked her yet?
The thought makes me sick and I sit back in my leather chair and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m not sure how to get over her.
Pushing up from my seat, I stalk over to the sidebar and pour myself a couple fingers’ worth of my dad’s good Irish whiskey. I should savor it, but instead, I toss it back and enjoy the burn as it trails down my throat.
My father hasn’t improved and my mother and Finley are over at the hospital right now on their daily visit. I know I should go over and visit, too, but I’ve been consumed by work. And, of course, torturous thoughts of Trish.
There’s a knock on the door and I look over to see Sean Flannigan enter. “A word?” he asks.
I shrug a shoulder and pour myself another glass of whiskey. But this time, I take a sip and then go stand in front of the window instead of sitting down again. The country view outside of the window is pretty green grass that extends far and wildflowers that end in a corpse of tall woods. Roberto and I used to run through those woods when we were young and spend hours getting lost. Instead of Cops and Robbers or Cowboys and Indians, we’d play the Volkanovs and the Mennetti’s. Even back then we were made aware of who the bad guys were.
Today, the day is gloomy and storm clouds are gathering. It looks like it’s going to be a helluva storm soon. It’s a good representation of what’s happening inside of my head right now. I’ve honestly never felt more lost or miserable in my life.
“The doctor’s report shows no improvement,” Sean states. He shifts, suddenly uneasy. “You’re going to have to make a decision soon, Connor.”
“Me?” I shake my head. “No. That’s not on me. That’s my mother’s decision.”
“She’ll never turn the ventilator off and, sadly, it’s the only thing keeping him alive at this point.”
“There’s still a chance he could start breathing on his own or wake up. Coma patients wake up all the time. Even after years.”
“The doctors say the chances are extremely low. It’s your job to help your mother see that and to understand. Your dad wouldn’t want to live like this, Connor.”
“You have no idea what he would’ve wanted. No one knew this was going to happen,” I tell him vehemently.
“There was always the chance, and he knew it. We talked about it before.”
That snags my attention. “And what did he say?”
“He said he’d rather shoot himself than spend the rest of his life dependent on machines and battling to wake up.”
Turning back to face the view outside, I squeeze my eyes shut. I know Sean is right. There’s no way my tough, strong father would want to go out like this.
“My mom… she’s not ready.”
“That’s why you need to talk to her and convince her that it is the right thing to do.”
Once again, I feel an enormous amount of pressure on my shoulders, and I wonder if it’s ever going to lighten up. Right now, it’s as though I’m being crushed and there’s no relief in sight.
The only thing that made things better – Trish – is gone.
“I’ll talk to her,” I murmur and finish the whiskey in my glass in one long swallow. A part of me wishes I could switch lives with Roberto right now. Or hell, even Rylan. Being the eldest, taking on all of these burdens and responsibilities alone is soul-crushing.
So, I do the only thing I can and suck it up.