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“My wrist is broken, not my hearing. There’s no need to scream,” I taunt, which just infuriates her further.
“Don’tcha be smart with me! You took my son!”
“Well, Aoife,” I smugly reply, wanting her to know I’m aware of who she is. “You handcuffed me to a bed. You fed me stale bread and water. And you let me rot in my own piss and shit. So, I’d say we’re even.”
The room becomes smaller, and my heart commences a deafening staccato.
She blanches, and that’s because of the man who towers behind her—the man who has stolen my breath from the first moment we met.
“Is that true?” Punky asks smoothly, his poker face in play. “Did ye treat her like a…prisoner?”
She turns over her shoulder, her bravado soon dying as she tugs at the gold crucifix around her throat. “Puck, I—”
“Answer my question. Now,” he interrupts, not interested in her excuses.
“Sean told me she was hurtin’ ya,” she cries, begging he shows mercy. “I did it for yer own good.”
She reaches out to touch his cheek, and just as I’m about to throw off the blanket, ready to take this bitch down, Puck seizes her wrist in midair.
“Maybe I should breakyourwrist then?” he poses, jaw clenched as she whimpers.
“Yer hurtin’ me.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m not.”
A shiver runs through me because there he is—my feral, vicious Punky who shows no mercy to anyone. And this bitch deserves none after everything she’s done.
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
I curl my lip, disgusted by how easily she surrendered.
“I’m not the one ya should be apologizing to.”
Her whimpers grow louder, and when she focuses on me, I see it—utter hatred. She wants Puck for herself, and no matter her story that she thought she was doing the right thing, I know she can’t be trusted. She will do everything in her power to have her happy family without me in it.
Punky releases her, but stands close, sensing a fight brewing. “I’m sorry, Camilla. I did not know. Sean said you—”
“Save your breath,” I snap, not interested in her bullshit. “You knew the difference between right and wrong, and what you did was wrong, very wrong. So I don’t accept your apology.”
Her eyes narrow while I dare her to say another word to me.
“I understand,” she finally replies. “Shay told me you looked after him.”
Punky’s jaw clenches.
We have so much to talk about, but something is…wrong. I can’t put my finger on it, but he’s avoiding eye contact with me. I wasn’t expecting a reunion filled with roses and rainbows, but I was at least expecting him to be able to look at me.
“He’s a good kid,” I reply, averting my eyes.
The silence is deafening and just adds to the pounding in my temples.
“I’ll give ya some time alone,” Aoife says as if she’s doing us a favor, and I’m the intruder, not her.
I shift against the pillows, focusing on the floral bedspread instead of Punky as he enters the room. His footsteps are measured. He’s nervous too.
This isn’t the first time we’ve been reunited after tragic events, but it feels different.
He doesn’t sit. He stands by my bedside, the silence continuing.
