The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

He nodded faintly.

I left him holding the ice pack and rushed to get a glass of water from the kitchen and the bottle of Advil from what Bibi called our medicine basket on top of the fridge. I helped him sip water to wash the pills down and then moved to pull the blankets over him. That’s when I saw the blood stains on his right thigh and the rip in his jeans. I tore the hole wider and found two small, ragged gashes, as if a snake had bit him and dragged its fangs down half an inch, tearing his skin.

“What the hell is this?”

Ronan shook his head from under the icepack, and again I had to keep from bursting into tears.

“We’re talking about this tomorrow,” I said as I cleaned the fang-like wounds and dabbed them with antiseptic. “All of this.”

I quickly threw on pajamas—soft pants and a loose T-shirt. Then I tied up my hair in a scarf and climbed into bed with Ronan.

He took me in with his good eye. “What’s that?”

“Headscarf,” I said. “For my braids.”

“I like it,” he said tiredly. “Something I didn’t know about you.”

My chest felt heavy and I trailed my fingers over his right pec. “This is something I didn’t know about you.” I read the quote tattooed there. “The mind is its own place. It can make a heaven of hell and a hell of heaven.”

“John Milton,” Ronan said. “Paradise Lost.”

“And is this an angel or demon?” I asked of the winged person beneath it.

“Both,” he said. “It’s Satan being cast out of Heaven. He was an angel first.”

“What does it all mean?” I shook my head. “Never mind. Tell me tomorrow. Sleep now.”

He set the icepack on the floor, and I curled up next to him as gingerly as I could. My eyes started to droop, the adrenaline having run its course, leaving me drained. I started to doze, my thoughts drifting and scattering, but jerked awake at the vision of red blood in the white sink.

I looked up to see Ronan staring at the ceiling.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. Everything.”

“Close your eyes, baby,” I said, the word slipping out again. “You need to rest.”

“I can’t.”

I frowned, remembering. “The nightmares? They come every night?”

“Every night.”

I tried to imagine lying down to sleep every single night of my life, knowing the horror that was waiting for me on the other side.

I bit my lip, thinking. “Not tonight. I’m going to…stand guard.”

“What?”

“You sleep, Ronan. I’ll stay awake. I’ll watch you and if they try to get you, I’ll talk to you. Maybe talk you through them. If they get too bad, I’ll wake you up, and we can try again.”

“You would do that…?” His jaw clenched and then he shook his head. “It won’t work and besides…” His voice grew hoarser. “I scream, Shiloh. I wake up fucking screaming and it’s bad. I’ll scare the shit out of you. And Bibi.”

Jesus… The thought horrified me. Not for me or Bibi but for him. What he suffered every night, never complaining.

I waited until my voice was steady. “We’re going to try it. Okay?”

He wanted to protest but he was too tired, his eyes already closing. I put my arm across his chest and snuggled as tightly to him as I dared without hurting him. I felt him settle into the bed, into my embrace.