***

Two hours passed before they allowed us back to see Nix. He’d had some sort of reaction to the anesthesia and they’d wanted to keep a close eye on things for a while longer than they’d told us in the beginning.

They’d only allow two people in the room at a time, and I’d clenched my jaw as Mat and Amy stood up to follow the nurse back, but within a few steps Amy had paused and rested her hand on Mat’s arm.

“I think it should be me and Patrick at first, okay, Mat?” She said it kindly, but it really wasn’t a question.

“Oh, sure,” he replied, glancing back to where I was getting to my feet. “I’ll just wait for one of you to come out.”

I took his place as we followed the dark haired nurse, and I glanced over at Amy’s face as we walked, curious about where her head was at. It didn’t take long before she started to speak.

“You’re his dad,” she said, focusing her eyes straight ahead. “I mean, as close as he’s ever had to one. You should be one of the first ones in there.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t answer her because, for the first time since I’d gotten her phone call, I felt tears burn at the backs of my eyes. His da. To say I was honored would have been a massive understatement.

Chapter 51

Amy

Every fear I’d had over the course of Nix’s life had coalesced into that single moment when I met his eyes after surgery.

He was groggy and his face was still really swollen. During the few hours we’d been apart, his skin had begun to bruise in shades varying from raspberry to almost black, and they’d set the broken bone in his wrist while he was out of it.

But none of those things were as bad as the look in his eyes. It was pure fear and confusion—like he couldn’t even understand what had happened.

“Mum,” he mumbled through swollen lips.

“Hey, baby,” I replied gently, walking forward until I was standing next to the edge of his bed. “I’d kiss ya, but I’m afraid I’d hurt those Angelina Jolie lips you’ve got goin’ on.”

“Ma mouth tathteth like ath,” he said, his words so garbled I had a hard time understanding him. “An ma tongue hurth like a motha.”

“Ye probably bit de hell out of it,” Patrick spoke up, finally coming into the room.

“Twick!” Nix said in surprise, one side of his mouth pulling up a little before falling again. His eyes darkened in embarrassment as they jerked back and forth between us, and I saw him swallow painfully. “You doin’ hea?”

“Had to come see me boy,” Patrick replied softly, stopping on the other side of Nix’s bed. “Ye look like shite.”

“Ya thould thee the otha guy,” Nix joked with no change in expression.

“Only one?”

I bit the inside of my cheek as we waited for his answer. I knew. I knew that there was no way one guy did this much damage to my boy. My son was big, and he was incredibly strong, and after years of visiting Patrick at the club, I knew he could take care of himself. So the fact that he was in the hospital just out of surgery because he’d been beaten so badly? There had to have been more than one person involved.

“Fow o five, I thin,” Nix answered, dropping his head gingerly back onto the pillows. My stomach clenched in horror. He hadn’t stood a chance.

“Ye recognize any of dem?”

“Theen couple of vem awoun. At the bah prett offen.” Nix’s eyes closed, and two tears rolled down the sides of his face as his nostrils flared.

“Alright, son,” Patrick said gently, “Alright.”

He reached out to brush Nix’s wild hair gently off his forehead, and my throat felt so thick it was hard for me to breathe.

“Lads are here wit’ me, we’ll take care of dis—” Patrick promised.

“Don let em back heah,” Nix said quietly, defeat in every line of his body.

“Nix—” I began, but Patrick cut me off.

“Look at me,” he ordered quietly, leaning down into Nix’s face.

My son’s eyes opened, and the shame there nearly brought me to my knees.

“Ye—” Patrick stopped and cleared his throat, sniffing once before speaking again. “Ye get a few of yer own in?”

Nix nodded slightly, his eyes watering.

“Dat’s me boy,” Patrick said vehemently. “Ye have not one t’ing to be ashamed about, ye understand me?” His head lowered even farther until Nix had no option of looking away. “Dere is no shame in bein’ outnumbered.”

“Ith becauthe I’m gay,” Nix whispered as if that was important, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Ca me a faggot.”

Patrick reared back as if he’d been hit, and the fury on his face was overwhelming.

“Ye did not come from me body,” Patrick said fiercely, staring into Nix’s overflowing eyes and cupping his face so gently their skin was barely touching. “But ye are me son. And ye are exactly as God made ye. Dere is not one t’ing wrong wit’ ye, Phoenix Robert Gallagher, and I’ll kill any man who says ot'erwise.”

Nix chest lurched as he tried to hold back a sob, and I laid my hand over my eyes to hide my despair.

I remember being afraid of every sharp corner and uneven step when Nix was a baby. I’d seen danger everywhere, and I’d been riddled with anxiety any time he’d attempt to sit up or crawl or walk. There were so many things he could hurt himself on.