I knew I shouldn’t get involved, but as I sat there in the quiet, I realized what exactly had caught my eye when I’d seen Brenna for the first time.
She watched the world with the same haunted look that I’d had for most of my life.
That night on a whim, I posted my old, beaten-up Corolla on the same website and for the same price that Brenna had posted her car hours before.
Chapter 50
Patrick
I knocked on the door in an unconscious rhythm before pulling my hand back and stuffing it into the pocket of my jacket.
I wasn’t wearing my cut. Portland wasn’t our territory and I wasn’t on club business, but I felt odd without it. The leather was so worn by that point that it molded to my chest perfectly, and I’d had it retooled more times than I could count as shit had frayed and ripped. Not wearing it reminded me of the feeling I’d get when I forgot my wallet at home.
“Nix you said seven—”
Amy froze with the door halfway open, and for a second I thought she was going to slam it in my face.
“What are you doing here?” she asked nervously, running her hand over her head even though there were no stray hairs to settle.
“It was ye, wasn’t it?” I asked, my heart in my throat. God, she was so beautiful and it had been so fucking long since I’d seen her. I wanted to reach out and run my hand down her bare arm just so I could feel her soft skin under my fingertips again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“I don’t know how ye did it—” I had to stop to clear my throat. “I don’t know how ye knew dat she’d need dat car.”
“Who, Patrick? I’m sorry, I don’t know—”
“Me sweet Brenna,” I looked down at the floor and pulled my hand out of my pocket, so my fingers had room to fidget. “He would have killed her. He almost did.”
“Fuck,” she whispered, bracing her hand against the door.
“I know it was ye.”
“I don’t—”
“T’ank ye.”
“What?”
“I don’t care how ye knew. I don’t care what ye did. T’ank ye.”
“Is she alright?” she finally asked, dropping the pretense.
“He beat de shite out of her,” I choked, raising my hand to my face to try and turn the sob into a cough. “She’s in de hospital now, but she’ll be alright. And she doesn’t ever have to worry about him again.”
She searched my face thoughtfully, then nodded. “He’s visiting the good priest?”
I snorted, and shook my head at her choice of words. “Aye, dey’ve had similar experiences, yeah? Perhaps dey could compare notes.”
“Good,” she replied, her jaw firming.
I had no idea how she’d ended up meeting Brenna outside that grocery store in Stayton. It was too odd to be a coincidence, but I had no idea how she’d pulled it off. The fact was—she had—and she’d given my baby the tool she needed to get away from the sorry bastard she’d married. I would never understand why she’d done it, and I’d never be able to repay her.
She’d stepped in when she didn’t have to and saved my child.
“Of course, de priest’s brudder may be dere, too,” I said softly after a moment, watching her closely. “Dough his experiences would make dem t’ankful for dere own.”
Her lower lip trembled as tears filled her eyes and her fingertips went white where they gripped the door. My stomach clenched at her expression and I wondered for a second if I’d done the wrong thing.
I’d respected her wishes all those years ago, but that hadn’t meant that I’d forgotten. It only meant that I hadn’t contacted her when I’d made sure the men she feared no longer walked the earth. She’d wanted me to leave her alone, and I had. After I’d made sure that the monsters who’d hurt her had paid.
“He had a rough time of it then?” she asked through her teeth, her nostrils flaring as she took in a deep breath.
“His mot’er would not have known him,” I answered honestly.
A sob came out of her mouth, but I kept my distance. Years ago, I would have taken her into my arms and comforted her, but there was a wide gap between us now that I didn’t know how to breach. All I knew with certainty was that she did not want me to touch her.
“Thank you, Patrick,” she said, her voice hoarse. I nodded, opening my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Trick? What the hell are you doing here?” Nix called out, walking up the open stairs to Amy’s apartment.
“Just stopped by to have a word wit’ yer mum,” I answered, stepping away from Amy’s door. “Ye look good, boyo.”
“Thanks, man.” He leaned in to give me a hug, and I gripped him hard, thumping his back twice as I let go.
I hadn’t seen the boy in far too long, though I was sure Amy would have disagreed. From the emotionless look on her face, I knew she hated that we’d kept in contact at all. I wondered if she knew that we spoke on the phone every couple of weeks, or that he always brought his bike down to Eugene for fixing up.
I hadn’t set out to keep in contact with Nix. In fact, I hadn’t thought of him at all in the first few weeks after I’d left. I’d been too busy taking care of first Kevin—in a warehouse outside of Dallas—and then Malcolm, in the back room of Casey Dillon’s pub.