The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Maryann had said she’d be home by six. I lay on the ratty couch watching ESPN and icing my eye with the same bag of peas she’d given me the first time Mitch Dowd had shown up. My body felt like it’d been hit by a truck, but I was more awake than I’d been in a long time.

Shiloh did that.

She stayed up all damn night, keeping the nightmares from taking hold. The kid in the kitchen watched his mom being murdered, but Shiloh took him by the hand and led him away.

And I told her I loved her.

It was too much to put on her after all that shit with Dowd, but I’d been half-drunk with pain, and the blood and violence of the night left me wondering if I’d see tomorrow.

I didn’t want it to be too late.

At six-fifteen, a knock came. I hauled my aching body off the couch, wincing at the pain in my ribs, and opened the door to Maryann. She whispered a curse under her breath at the sight of me and stepped inside.

“Where are the twins? Not alone…?”

“At a friend’s until seven. They’re safe, Ronan.”

I nodded and we sat at my kitchen table under the lone bulb.

“I sent the video to the police,” she said. “Anonymously. But it clearly shows his face. Especially that last kick,” she added, tears shining in her eyes. “But it’s too dark to see you.”

“Good. I’ll stay home the next few days. Make sure he doesn’t come back.”

“He’s not going to come back, Ronan. That was assault and battery. He’s going to jail.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

She sighed. “Let me see your eye.”

I moved the peas and she winced. “Dammit, this is bullshit. Do you feel well enough to go back to school? You need to graduate, young man.”

Despite everything, I was going to graduate. My grades weren’t great, but they were enough.

I did it, Mom. Barely.

“I’ll go back in a few days.”

“What will you do after? College?”

“Manage this building, I guess.”

“You can do more than that, but you don’t want to leave us high and dry, do you?”

“Maybe. I like it.”

That was the truth too. I liked taking care of the building and the tenants. I liked the idea that I was helping—in a small way—to provide a decent home when I’d had none.

“You’ve been good to us,” Maryann said and rummaged in her purse. She slid an envelope across the table. “It took me too long to save it up, but this is yours.”

I set the peas down and peered in the envelope. Two one hundred-dollar bills lay inside. I immediately closed it and shoved it back across the table.

“No.”

She laughed a little. “Just…no? This is the partial rent you covered for me. And don’t bother denying it. Your uncle has never been in a good enough mood to let two hundred dollars slide.”

“I’m not taking this, Maryann.”