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Chapter Thirty-Two

Eamon

The hospital is quiet when we arrive. After checking in at the nurses' station, Mam leads us down the corridor to the last room on our left, a sense of dread flooding my mind. As if reading my thoughts, she turns and fixes her eyes on me.

"She won't look how you last saw her. She's barely more than skin and bones. And the bruising on her arms…" Mam shudders.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself to see my baby sister. Norah squeezes my hand, giving me a small reassuring smile. Words cannot express how thankful I am that she's here. As long as she's by my side, I feel like I can be strong enough to face whatever comes our way. Her constant encouragement strengthens my resolve and I square my shoulders before following my Mam into the room.

The lights are low, but the curtains are pulled back, letting in the morning sunlight. Mam hurries to Caity's bedside, taking her hand and kissing her forehead. I'm barely through the door, and I can see how frail she is from here.

"Caity, love," she whispers. "You'll never guess who's here to see you. Your brother, Eamon, has come home at last. And he's brought a lass with him."

I slowly approach my sister, sucking in a sharp breath once I see her fully. Her face is gaunt with dark circles under her closed eyes, and her dark hair, the same color as mine and our Da's, is brittle and lifeless. She looks ages older than her meager twenty-one years. Her arms are thin and scattered with bruises and track marks, and there's dirt caked under her fingernails. A wave of sorrow washes over me, and I can't stop the tears that stream silently down my face. I round the end of the bed to sit on the opposite side. Like our mother, I press a kiss to her forehead.

"Ach, Caity Bug. What did you get yourself into?" I mutter.

Guilt floods me. I should have never left Ireland. I should have been strong enough to stay here for my family. I could have ignored Rhiannan and Declan and moved to my own flat if I couldn't handle being next door. Instead, I fled to the States like a coward, thinking only about myself, not once considering how it could hurt those I left behind. I look over at my Mam, whose eyes are glued to my sister.

"Mam," I choke out, furiously blinking away the tears. "I'm so sorry. I should have stayed here. I could have helped watch after Caity. I could have been here for you. I should have stayed. "

"Eamon, love, no," she rushes out, reaching across the bed to grip my arm. "You're not to blame for this. You had to do what was right for you. Make a life for yourself. You followed your heart, and that's an honorable thing."

I scoff. "No, I was a selfish eejit that couldn't stomach the idea of being around my cheating girlfriend and best mate. I ran away."

Standing abruptly, I lace my fingers behind my head and stare out the window. All I see is my shame. Norah sidles up next to me, and when she places a calming hand on my arm, I shrug it off, disgusted with myself. Maybe that's cold of me, but I don't deserve any sort of comfort right now .

"Ach, don't be daft," my mother chastises me. "Were you not just telling me that Caity made her own decisions and there's nothing I could have done about it? You being here wouldn't have changed a thing for her."

I release a heavy breath and hang my head. "Aye, that may be, but you shouldn't have been dealing with it alone, Mam. I failed you."

She stands and strides around the bed to meet me by the window. I don't resist when she places her hands on either side of my face, forcing me to look at her.

"Oh, my lovely boy. You've not failed me. And I haven't been alone. You're not the only strapping young lad in Kilkenny, you know."

One corner of my mouth lifts in a humorless smile. "That's not the point. With Da gone, I'm supposed to be the strapping young lad that takes care of you."

"Hush," she orders. "I'll not hear another word about it. You understand me?"

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Before I can argue further, there's a quiet knock at the door. We all turn to see a tall, thin man with snow-white hair walk in.

"Hello there, Mrs. Kennedy," the older gentleman greets my mother warmly.

To my surprise and utter confusion, her cheeks flush and she becomes absolutely flustered.

"Oh, Dr. Colm, good morning," she says nervously. "This is my son, Eamon, and his lass, Norah. They've come from the States to visit Caity."

Dr. Colm extends a hand in my direction and I grip it, shaking firmly.

"Nice to meet you, young man. It's good of you to make the journey. I'm sure it brings your mother comfort," he says.

"Aye, hello, Doctor Colm," I say, then gesture a hand to Norah. "This is my lass, as Mam said. Norah Grady."

She smiles, but her posture is stiff and hesitant. I know my reaction earlier is responsible for that and I silently vow to make it up to her as soon as possible.

"Hi, Dr. Colm," Norah says politely, shaking his hand quickly .

"Pleasure, Miss Grady. I can see why the lad was drawn to America," he says with a wink.

"Oh," she giggles. "Thank you, but I can't take credit for that. Eamon has been in the States for a while. We only just met a few months ago."

"Remember," Mam states, "Eamon went to the States on a football scholarship."

"Oh yes, that's right. Your mother told me all about that just the other day. How was the season for you?"

As much as I'd love to give this man my entire life story, that's not why I'm here. I want to know about my sister's condition. At the risk of sounding like a major wanker, I hold up a hand.

"It was grand, thanks. But, if you don't mind, Dr. Colm, could you please update me on Caity? Mam filled me in, but I'd like to hear from you."

The doctor looks taken aback but recovers with patience I'm sure he's earned over the years dealing with anxious family members.

"Of course, lad," he says apologetically. "That is, after all, why I'm here. I just got the results from her latest scan. Due to restricted oxygen from her overdose, she has what we call hypoxic brain damage . The good news is that this is the less severe form of brain damage caused by drug overdose. There isn't any sign of stroke or bleeding, but she does still have some swelling. Her recovery will depend on that swelling going down. The most rapid recovery is usually within the first six months, but we won't know the long-term outcome until about a year. That being said, right now, we are going to work on reducing that swelling with a respirator and IV treatments. I'm hopeful that because the damage isn't as severe as we first thought, she'll respond positively. I know that you're all anxious to have her awake and alert, but we'll be keeping her in a medically induced coma to help reduce that swelling as well."

"Excuse me, Dr. Colm?" Norah interjects. "But can you tell me how the induced coma will help? I think I understand, but I'd like to know how the process works. If you don't mind."

He smiles kindly at her. "Not at all, Miss Grady. Think of it as a vehicle that's overheating. If you keep the motor running, it's just going to make the condition worse and, ultimately, kill the engine. The brain is similar. If we were to wake Caity up and try to force her to interact, it would essentially send her brain into overdrive, exacerbating the swelling and injury. Placing her in a comatose state allows the brain to rest and charge if you will. Does that help?"

"Yes, thank you," she says with a nod.

I sit down on the edge of Caity's bed, mind reeling. The medical world has never really interested me before, but I won't deny how fascinating it is to learn about the brain.

"So," I say, resting my elbows on my knees, "let's say that you're able to reduce the swelling. What does her prognosis look like?"

"It's difficult to say at this time," he says, folding his arms across his chest. "Ideally, when the swelling goes down, we can slowly bring her out of the comatose state. Then we'll be able to further assess her condition. We will, of course, be doing regular scans to check the status and to determine if there is any underlying damage not showing up currently. Let's say that over the course of a couple of weeks, the swelling has reduced enough to wake Caity up, she would be looking at extensive physical and occupational therapy. It's possible that she could have some amnesia, either short-term or long-term, I can't say. Best case scenario, in six months, she'll be well on her way to a mostly full recovery. Worst case scenario, she is severely disabled, requiring full-time aid. Or she could fall somewhere in between—mentally stable, but years spent recovering her motor skills."

My mother places a trembling hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. "My poor, sweet Caity Bug."

I blow out a deep breath and ask, "So, it's a waiting game for right now, correct?"

Dr. Colm nods, "That's correct, lad. I wish I could give you a definite outcome, but unfortunately, the human brain is quite complex. Is there anything else I can do for you or any other questions I can answer?"

"I have one more," Norah says quietly. "Is it helpful to talk to her while she's in the coma? I've heard stories about loved ones reading or talking to them frequently, but I'm not sure if those are accurate. I guess I just wonder if talking would cause the brain to be more active or if would it be soothing. I'm not sure if that even makes sense."

"That's a very insightful question, lass," he tells her. "I don't think it would be harmful to her to have someone sit and read or talk to her a couple of times a day. I wouldn't recommend round the clock, of course, but a couple of hours a day would be just fine."

Mam gives Norah a small smile of gratitude. "I hadn't even thought of that. Thank the good Lord for you, love."

Dr. Colm smiles at my Mam and places a comforting hand on her arm. "If there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to reach out. I'm on call for the next few days, so I'll be here. You have my mobile number, so just give us a ring if you think of something. If I don't answer, just leave a message and I'll ring you back."

She blushes deeply and says, "Thanks a million, Dr. Colm."

I look back and forth between them. She's acting odd, and he's borderline unprofessional. I make a mental note to discuss this with her later.

"You're free to stay and visit as long as you like. The nursing staff will be making their rounds frequently, and I'll pop back in this evening," Dr. Colm says before leaving the room.

"Ach, he's just the nicest man. I'm so thankful that our Caity has such good care here," Mam says absently.

"He does seem very kind," Norah says, standing up from the chair she's been in. "I think I'm going to go get a cup of coffee. Rosie, can I get you anything?"

"Bless you. No, I'm fine for the moment."

"Eamon, what about you?" she asks cautiously like she's afraid I'll snap again. I could kick myself for being such an arse to her a moment ago.

"No, I'm okay," I say. "I'll come with you."

She holds up her hand to stop me. "No, it's fine. Stay here with your Mom. I'm sure you have some things to discuss without me lurking around."

"Acushla…" I protest.

"Really." She forces a smile at me. "I don't mind. It will do me good to stretch my legs. I'll be fine. I have my phone on me, so if either of you change your mind or think of something you need, let me know."

Norah walks past me, and I reach out to grab her hand, giving it a squeeze in apology. When she looks up at me, I see pain and wariness in her eyes, and I hate myself a little more.

Norah

I take my time finding the cafeteria. I'm a little ashamed to admit that Eamon's behavior earlier rattled me, but I chastise myself for being so selfish. This is a stressful situation and he's clearly fighting an internal battle. I'll give him space for today, stay quiet, and blend into the surroundings. I'll be the errand girl, doing whatever I can to make life easier for him and Rosie. Maybe I'll persuade both of them to get out tomorrow for some fresh air. Having spent so much time with my Mom during her chemo and radiation treatments, I know all too well what it feels like to be cooped up in a cold, stale hospital room for hours upon hours.

I'm just passing the reception area where a girl around my age is standing at the desk. I don't mean to eavesdrop, but when I hear her mention Caity's name, I halt my steps.

"Hi, I'm here to visit Caity Kennedy. She's in the intensive care unit," the girl states. "I'm a friend of the family."

"As I mentioned yesterday, lass…" the kind-looking older lady begins and a niggling in my brain urges me to step forward.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt and for eavesdropping, but I just came from Caity Kennedy's room. Her mother and brother are still up there now."

The girl whirls around, long black hair swishing with the movement. "Eamon is here?"

"Yes, we just arrived earlier this morning. I'm Norah, his girlfriend," I say, extending my hand in greeting, but she doesn't reciprocate.

She does, however, look me up and down, eyes skeptical. "His girlfriend?" she asks in disbelief. "You're American. "

"Last time I checked," I say with a bemused expression. I have a sneaking suspicion I know exactly who this is, but I ask, "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"

The girl straightens and sneers, "I didn't. I'm Rhiannan. Eamon and I have… history ."

Knew it.

It takes all of my self-control to keep from scoffing at her. Instead, I narrow my eyes slightly before saying, "Oh, I know all about your history . He's told me so much about you . Is Declan with you or at home with your kiddo?"

Rhiannan physically jerks her head back in shock. "That's not really any of your business. I came to visit Caity, but now that I know Eamon is here, I think it'll be nice to catch up with him."

The nerve of this bitch. Channeling my inner Myra, I say, "Oh, I'm sorry. Eamon and Rosie requested no more visitors today. But I'll be sure to tell them you stopped by. It was a pleasure meeting you."

Rhiannan clenches her fists at her side and glares at me before turning and storming through the sliding doors leading to the parking lot. I blow out a shaky breath and decide that I don't want coffee after all.

"Miss," the lady at the desk says softly, startling me.

I'd forgotten she was there. I smile sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause a scene."

The lady, Orla, according to her name tag, laughs, "Quite the opposite actually. You handled that well. This isn't the first time that young lady has come in trying to see Miss Kennedy. As she isn't family, we can't allow her up there without a family member escorting her. She didn't react in a friendly manner the last time either, so thank you for taking the brunt of it."

My brow furrows in confusion. "She still came back even though she knows she can't go up? Why?"

"I think she's hoping she'll find someone different at the desk and try to talk her way up. Silly lass. I've worked at this desk for the last twenty years. It's unlikely anyone but myself will be present," Orla says, rolling her eyes.

"That's ridiculous," I reply. "I'm sorry you've had to endure that. I feel like I might have overstepped a little, but I can't imagine Eamon would be happy to have her waltz up there unannounced."

"Between you and me, you're much prettier anyway," Orla winks. "‘Course, when I was a young wan, my hair was the same red as yours, so I might be a wee bit biased."

I grin at the silver-haired woman and say, "Well then I have something to look forward to in the future! Hopefully, my hair looks like yours!"

"Ach, you flatter me," she coos, waving a hand. "Have that fella of yours stop at the desk on his way out so I can see the young man that snagged such a catch. I imagine he's quite the looker."

I nod my head vigorously in agreement. "He is definitely that! I'll make sure to stop by with him when we leave."

Saying goodbye to Orla, I make my way back to Caity's room hoping Rosie and Eamon won't be upset at me for turning Rhiannan away. I was mostly looking out for them, but selfishly, I don't think I could have handled being in the same room as the two of them right now. With Eamon's behavior earlier and Rhiannan's beauty, I'm already feeling insecure. It's hard not to when you're standing next to the woman your boyfriend had planned on marrying and she looks like a supermodel. I'm still mulling it over when I walk back into the room.

"Did you not find any coffee?" Eamon's deep voice asks, shaking me from my thoughts.

"What? Oh, I didn't make it that far," I pause before continuing. "I, uh, ran into Rhiannan at the reception desk in the lobby…"

Eamon goes wholly still. "She was here? Did you talk to her?"

"I overheard her asking to visit Caity. Thinking she might have been a friend, I introduced myself."

I tell them everything in full, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry if that was out of line. I should have called up here first."

Rosie laughs delightedly. "No, love. You did the right thing. Had it been just me up here, I probably would have allowed it, but with Eamon here, I doubt that would have been a pleasant visit. The day she and Declan moved to a new neighborhood was a day I'll always cherish. "

Eamon's head whips towards his mother. "They moved out? When?"

Rosie waves a hand, "Ach, it was a couple of years ago. I didn't bring it up because I didn't think you'd want to hear anything about them."

Eamon just nods, then clears his throat nervously, "I suppose I'll have to have a conversation with her at some point while I'm here."

"Why?" I ask incredulously. "If you don't want to see her, you're not obligated to talk to her."

He sighs heavily and rakes his fingers through his hair, refusing to meet my eyes. Rosie, sensing the tension in the air, decides that she'd like some tea after all. Once the door closes behind her, he leans back in the chair, extending his legs out in front of him.

"I know you won't like it," he says, "but now that she knows I'm here, she's just going to keep coming around until I talk to her. I'd like to get it over with sooner rather than later."

I shake my head angrily and plant my hands on my hips. "It's not about me liking it or not, Eamon. How do you know she'll keep coming around? And why do you have to talk to her?"

"I just know how she is. After we ended things, she kept trying to get me to take her back. She didn't relent until I moved. And then…" He hesitates, not meeting my eyes.

"And then what?" I demand, fearing I'm not going to like the answer.

"It's not a big deal. I didn't say anything to you because I didn't want you to worry," he starts.

I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach. "Worry about what?"

"After Caity was found, Rhiannan started texting me under the guise of concern. I rarely responded unless it was a direct question about Mam needing anything," Eamon says calmly.

My eyes pool with tears. I'm probably overreacting, but the fact that he kept this from me hurts.

"Why wouldn't you tell me that? And why did she act like she didn't know you were in a relationship?"

"It never came up." He shrugs. "And it's none of her business. This is why I didn't tell you. I knew it would upset you. "

"Eamon, you could have— should have —told me from the beginning. I would have understood. But now it just seems like you're hiding things from me. And maybe telling her you were seeing someone would have kept her from messaging you more. Or you could have told her it wasn't appropriate," I say, throwing my hands in the air.

He stands and stalks towards me, grasping my hands gently. "Acushla, stop. I don't want to fight with you. I was just trying to shelter you from the unpleasantness that is Rhiannan, but I can see now that was a mistake. I'm so sorry. I'm not hiding anything from you. She's nothing to me and never will be."

I wilt at his admission. Sliding his hands up my arms and over my shoulders to cup my face, he whispers, "It's just you for me, love."

Wrapping my hands around his wrists, I close my eyes and inhale deeply to keep any more tears from falling.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I overreacted. Meeting her like that rattled me. You have more important things to worry about than my petty jealousy."

He leans in to kiss an escaped tear away. "You've nothing to be jealous of, I swear it. She doesn't hold a candle to you."

I snort indelicately, "You sound like Orla downstairs."

Eamon furrows his brow in confusion. "Who the feck is Orla?"

"She's the lady that was at the desk when I met Rhiannan. We became friends. She told me she thought I was prettier because of my hair and that she was a redhead in her younger years. She also wants to meet you."

"Why does she want to meet me?" He chuckles.

"We might have talked about how handsome you are." I shrug.

"Well, we better not let Orla down. I'd hate for her to miss out on seeing this face," he teases. "But she's right. You're much more beautiful than Rhiannan."

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close, kissing the crown of my head. I bury my face in his chest and breathe him in, feeling more peaceful knowing that we can effectively communicate without things getting too heated. Speaking of communication…

"Are you okay?" I ask. "You seemed a little off earlier. "

He rubs his hands up and down my back soothingly. "Aye, I'm alright. I'm sorry for brushing you off like I did."

"It's okay," I mutter. "I know you have a lot on your mind. Just remember that I'm here to help, so please let me. If you need space, then tell me. I can't read your mind, and my first instinct is to comfort you when you're struggling. I promise you won't hurt my feelings if you need some time to yourself."

He doesn't say a word, just tightens his arms around me and presses another kiss to my head. The gesture isn't as reassuring as it should be.

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