Patrick.

Opening my eyes cautiously, I took inventory of our bodies. I was on my side with one hand on his chest and the other still wrapped in his between us. Sometime during the night, we must have slid down the wall, because he was flat on his back on the bed with his feet resting on the floor. He couldn’t have been comfortable, but his even breaths indicated he hadn’t woken up yet.

As quietly and gently as I could, I untangled his fingers from my hair and slid away from him to climb off the bed. I couldn’t believe he’d stayed the entire night with me, and I was more than a little apprehensive to walk into the living room.

Peg was out there and there was no way she’d missed that Patrick wasn’t where she’d left him the night before.

Choosing between being in bed with Patrick when he woke up or facing Peg was easy though. I left the room silently, pulling the door closed behind me as I followed the noise into the kitchen.

“Want some breakfast?” Peg asked from where she was leaning inside the fridge.

“I should probably get home.” I needed to get far away before I proved the medical field wrong and actually died from embarrassment.

“Stay! Havin’ a special breakfast today!”

Before I could ask her why breakfast was so special, I felt a hand slide along my waist.

“Mornin’, Mum,” Patrick rasped as he walked past me. He leaned in to kiss his mom on the top of her head, and she smiled as if he’d just found the cure to cancer.

“Did ye sleep good?”

“Got a fuckin’ kink in me neck.”

“I bet,” Peg said knowingly, glancing at me with a smirk. “Well, sit down! The food is ready.”

We all sat down at the table as I tried hard to avoid both sets of eyes that were staring at me. Nothing to see here, folks.

“Ye’ll say prayer, Patrick,” Peg ordered, reaching out to grab both of our hands.

Great, now I was going to have to hold his hand again, when all I wanted to do was go home and brush my teeth and try to get over my complete mortification. I lifted my hand and limply placed it in his waiting one. I tried not to show any sort of reaction, but I stopped breathing when he ran his thumb over my fingers. The damaged ones.

My eyes met his as he began to pray.

“Bless us, O Lord, and dese dy gifts which we—”

The prayer was cut off as the door to the living room opened behind me and a man’s voice called out in greeting.

“Margaret! Ye here?”

Patrick’s hand dropped mine like it was on fire as he jumped to his feet. The veins in his neck were suddenly bulging, his face like stone.

“De fuck are ye doing here, Da?” he asked angrily, startling me.

“Watch yer mouth, boyo,” the man admonished with a glare.

“Yer not welcome here.”

My gaze flew between the two until I felt Peg’s hand tighten in mine. When I turned to look at her, her normally rosy cheeks were pale and she was frozen in place and staring over my shoulder.

“Can a man not have a visit on his son’s birthday?” the man asked jovially.

My thoughts of his complete obliviousness were cut off as I saw his hand clench and unclench at his side, a motion that was familiar because I’d seen his son do it repeatedly. He was nervous, maybe even scared. He turned his eyes to Peg, and I could feel the tension in the air as Patrick gripped the table’s edge as if it was the only thing holding him back.

“Margaret, love—”

“Eyes on me, ye old bastard,” Patrick roared, making me jump in my seat.

Peg began to dig her nails into the back of my hand, her body still stiff and still with an emotion I couldn’t pinpoint. Terror? I didn’t think that was right. There was something there, but I had no idea what it was.

When Peg’s husband took a step closer to the table, I moved instinctively. My chair screeched across the floor as I stood, and for the first time since he’d arrived, the man’s eyes went to me as I stepped in front of Peg, blocking his view of her. My arm was twisted oddly behind my back since Peg didn’t seem ready to let it go, but I refused to acknowledge it. Instead, I met the man’s eyes and lifted my chin.

“Sorry, dear. I didn’t notice ye dere. Ye Patrick’s girl?”

“Don’t speak to her,” Patrick hissed as he rounded the table.

“She’s lovely,” he replied, looking between Patrick and I.

“I swear to Christ, old man, one more word—”

Patrick’s voice had taken on a wild edge, something that must have knocked Peg out of her stupor, because, with a small squeeze of my hand, she came to her feet behind me.

“Robbie, that’s enough.” Her voice was like a whip, slicing through the small kitchen. “Patrick, take Amy home.”

“Mum—”

“Do as I say,” she shot back, sliding around me.

Their eyes met for a second, another conversation passing between them with no more words spoken. With an audible swallow, Patrick nodded, then grabbed my hand roughly and pulled me with him around his father and out of the house.

“Was that your dad?” I asked breathlessly, practically jogging beside him down the sidewalk. “It’s your birthday?”

“I don’t have time for dis,” he replied tersely, “Do ye have yer key?”

I nodded silently, duly chastised. He was sweating, and I knew it wasn’t from our hurried walk to my house. I was missing something; there was a reason Patrick was so frantic to get me home.