The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

I found the hole over Louis’s apartment. I knelt on the roof that was mostly flat and sealed the opening. It looked like shit and probably wouldn’t do the trick if the rain kept going. The entire roof needed replacing. The tenants paid their rent—they deserved better than cheap plywood and some nails.

I climbed down to find Maryann Greer in a raincoat, arms crossed, glaring at me from under her hood.

“Just what the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? Fixing the roof.”

“Don’t get smart with me. Are you aware that it’s raining cats and dogs? That you could have slipped and broken your damn neck?”

I was very aware of that.

Maryann flapped a hand. “Never mind.” She turned on her heal and stomped back around the building, presumably back to her apartment.

I returned the tools to the shed and went back to my place. I was shaking out the useless rain slicker when a knock came at the door.

Maryann opened it before I could, a mug of something hot in her hand. “Hot cocoa,” she said in a slightly softer tone than earlier. Slightly. “The girls are bundled up watching a movie. We had extra.”

“Maryann…”

“Look at you. You’re drenched.” She shook her head and set the cocoa on the table. Too tired to argue, I shut the door and joined her, slouching heavily into the chair.

“Why did you do that? Did you stop to think for a second how dangerous that was?”

“Louis had a leak that needed fixing.”

“So he puts a bucket under it until tomorrow,” she said. “Wouldn’t be the first time. We’re used to waiting for your uncle to fix anything.”

“It’s done.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Who else was going to do it?” I snapped, that old pain burning a hole in my stomach. “There’s no one else. So I did it. I did something.”

Maryann’s worried frown deepened. “Ronan…”

“If you call for help and there’s no fucking answer…or they finally show up and it’s too late, what’re you supposed to do?”

I ran a hand through my damp hair and looked up to see her watching me, her lips a thin line.

“I don’t know

what—or who—you’re actually talking about, Ronan, but I know it’s not about a hole in the damn roof. I’m not going to push it, though I’d like to have a word with whoever failed you so badly.”

“What for? Done is done.”

“True. But that doesn’t mean it was okay. And I think you need to hear that.”

Her words punched me in the chest. The smell of warm chocolate and her concerned expression—her kindness—dragged me back years, to when I still had a mother. A feeling of disorientation, like déjà vu, came over me. The past and present mixed in that dingy apartment, awakening feelings I’d buried with Mom—the day I’d known I was on my own.

“I don’t need to hear anything,” I said gruffly. “I don’t need your lectures or your fucking cocoa… I don’t need a damn thing.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s fucking right.” I heard my tone grow low and stony. “What are you doing here anyway? Always up in my business. You’re just a tenant.”

I made the word sound like an insult and half-expected Maryann would slap me across the face for being a dick and then walk away.

She did neither.