Marked Men: Nash Part 21

"I'm just kidding. Just having you here makes it suck less. I'm so glad you can finally see how wonderful you are."

"Well, I might have moments here or there still, so be patient with me, but I realize that if someone as great, as talented, as caring as you can be in love with me, then I must be pretty special."

The only answer I had to that was to kiss her again. At another time, in any other place, I would have found the nearest place I could just lose myself inside her, but as happy as I was that she was here, that she was officially mine, I still had other pressing matters on hand. I sighed against her lips and closed my eyes.

"I have to stay with Phil. I can't be somewhere else if he goes."

She sighed back and we were just breathing each other in and out.

"I'm not going anywhere, Nash. If you're here, then so am I."

I wanted to argue with her. I wasn't exactly keen on the idea of her seeing me such a mess and so vulnerable, but I had to admit having her around to lean on sounded nice. I gulped and led her back to the room Phil was in. She put a hand to her mouth and I saw her fingers shake. A glossy coating of fresh tears sprang into those heartbreaking eyes, but she shook it off and broke away from me to walk over to the bedside. Her eyes were everywhere and she touched his wrist with delicate fingers. I realized belatedly as I slumped into the recliner that she was doing her nurse thing. She stood there for a long minute and then turned back to me with a devastated expression. I went to get up so I could get another chair, but she put herself firmly in my lap and curled up so that she was cradled against my chest.

"His pulse is really weak, thready; respiration's shallow and labored."

"Yeah."

She shook her head. "I'm so sorry."

I snorted a little and kissed her on the crown of her head. "You keep saying that."

"Because I really, really am."

I pulled her as close to me as I could and watched my dad with a hollow feeling in my gut.

"I know you are. He told me not to live a life of regret tonight. He also told me to love you so hard there would be no getting away from it, and then he asked me to call him Dad."

My voice broke, and for the first time since this all started, everything I was feeling started to leak out. Luckily it was dark and the only one who could tell was Saint. Moisture forced its way out of one eye and got lost in her bright hair.

She put her palm on my heart and tapped her fingers in time with the hasty beat.

"You can do all those things for him." Her voice was soft and gentle like she was scared she might spook me.

"Now that you're here, I can."

We stayed silent after that, just held each other in the dark and waited to see what the next day would hold. I knew that whatever it was, we would face it together and that made facing the inevitable slightly more bearable.

Phil was in and out the next day. Sometimes he knew exactly who I was and he kept grinning at me and looking at Saint. I urged her to go home, told her she didn't have to stay since she had already missed work, but she wasn't budging. She fluttered around, doing her nursing thing, doing her girlfriend thing, and I was grateful for it all. Phil made her laugh when he was awake and lucid. He told her broken tales of my misspent youth with Jet and the Archer twins, which led to a show-and-tell of all my awful tattoos that I had since covered with other things. He didn't last long, and she was amazing with him even when I felt useless and at a loss.

I had a really hard time when he drifted off, when he thought he was somewhere else in a different time. I wanted to hurt things when he mumbled things about my mom and that disastrous relationship. It made all the disdain I had for her bubble to the surface and all that old hurt and those feelings of inferiority percolate and stew. Saint did a good job of reminding me that my mother's opinion held no weight for me anymore, and that the people that mattered in my life adored who I was and they wouldn't change a thing about me. That she wouldn't change a single thing about me.

It was early the following morning, really early, the sun wasn't even up yet, when something changed. I was napping on and off in the recliner, Saint was asleep on the couch in the other room, but something in the air shifted and my eyes popped open. I got up and walked to the side of my dad's bed and looked down at him. His eyes were at half-mast and I could see, literally see, that he was fighting, struggling to inhale each breath he was taking. My heart slipped out of rhythm and I knew, just had a gut sense, that this was it. That last grain of sand in the hourgla.s.s was falling down.

"Hey." I could only whisper and his eyes flickered in my direction.

I couldn't tell if he could see me anymore, if he could tell who I was at this point, but he lifted a frail hand and I took it in my own. Emotion clogged my throat as I saw his skeletal-looking chest take longer and longer to rise and fall. His bony fingers curved over my own and I don't know if he really said it or I just wanted him to say it, but I could swear that the words with you always floated out and around us before his eyes drifted shut one last time.

I don't know how long I stood there, don't know if I made any noise or not, but he wasn't breathing anymore and I was just left holding his hand and staring down at him in numbness. I heard a strangled sound and looked up to see Saint hovering in the doorway, hands over her mouth and eyes huge in her face. She knew and she was aching for me.

She walked over and wrapped her arms around my waist from the back and we just stood there, silent and sorrowful, grieving and a little bit lost.

"I think he told me he would always be with me right before he pa.s.sed." I sounded rusty and unsure.

"He will always be with you, Nash. He's a part of you in everything you do. He's always going to be here looking out for you." I felt one of her fingertips trail over the ridges of my spine, where my dragon was sleeping and at rest.

"Yeah, but it's not going to be the same without him."

Her soft breath fluttered across the back of my neck as I linked a hand over hers where it was lying on my stomach.

"No, it won't, but you'll do your best to make his memory live on."

d.a.m.n straight I would. It was the least I could do after everything Phil had done for not only me, but the rest of the wayward souls I called my family.

The next few days were chaos. I felt like I was the eye of a storm that raged around me. Saint got down to business before the sun even came up. She made the arrangements for his body to go where it needed to and to be handled in the way Phil's last wishes asked for. In a matter of hours Phil's condo was full of people. The girls all banded together to work on the funeral arrangements. Since Phil was going to be cremated, a viewing was set up for a few days from the day he pa.s.sed. I had lost the ability to speak, to interact, and was just responding when spoken to, so it was up to Saint to run the show. My girl who was shy, hesitant, and nervous, took charge just like she did in the ER and I couldn't have loved her any more if I tried. I could tell my friends noticed the way she rallied for me, propped me up, and they all fell a little in love with her as well. There was no doing any of this without her.

The guys were all tasked with alerting everyone of Phil's pa.s.sing. Phones were constantly going off, questions and answers were flying; one day faded into the next and I was in the center of it all, mostly numb and unresponsive. At some point I think Rule noticed my comatose state, and while there was a lot of business and details that still had to be handled, celebrating Phil's life and the wonderful person he was definitely needed to be first on the agenda, so he asked Rome to put together a wake at the Bar on the fly. We were Donovans after all, so it was only fitting.

It was sometime into my third Jameson and c.o.ke, with Saint propped up against my side while the Pogues played "Waltzing Matilda" and "If I Should Fall from Grace with G.o.d" on the jukebox, while everyone told sloppy sad stories about how Phil had impacted their life, that the chill and unresponsiveness finally started to fade. I was sad, I was lonely, I was scared, but more than any of that, I was determined to do my old man proud, and that was what he would want me to focus on.

I pulled Saint close to me. I kissed her on the end of her freckled nose and told her, "Thank you."

She wrinkled her brows up at me. "For what?"

For everything, but that didn't really cut it. "For being you."

Her eyes got all shiny and bright silver like they tended to do when I said something that got to the heart of her, and she hugged me so hard I couldn't breathe. I let go, told Phil good-bye in my head, and raised a toast that had everyone hooting and hollering at the top of their lungs. It was a rousing send-off, a proper way to say farewell. All of the people Phil had touched, the family he had helped build, honored his memory and each other while getting properly sauced and living life with no regret.

The viewing was the next day. The girls had found a nice little church close to downtown and it was almost filled to capacity. Phil had a legion of friends he rode motorcycles with, old navy buddies-including Cora's dad, who was holding baby Remy, a bunch of lifelong clients, and enough ex-girlfriends and lovers that all I could do was shake my head and high five the guy in my head.

All of the gang were standing outside greeting people as they walked in. It was an odd sight, all of us that were normally so colorful and bright dressed in shades of black and gray. Even Rule's hair was a somber, solid black for the occasion. I loved that they all wanted to surround me, that I had a bunch of arms ready to hold me up if I was going to fall, but I felt pretty solid as long as Saint didn't wander too far from my side. She was the rock I needed to stay grounded to here and now.

From inside the church, Johnny Cash's version of "Danny Boy" started to play and I was subjected to a backbreaking round of man hugs, and heartbreaking hugs and kisses from the girls. Cora was openly crying already and I had only ever seen her do that when she was pregnant and when Rome got shot. Rule's winter eyes also looked a little gla.s.sy and sharp, but he buried his face on top of Shaw's head to hide it as they walked inside.

I clasped Saint's hand and brought it up to my lips so I could kiss her knuckles.

"Ready?"

She opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut again with a frown when the sound of high heels on cement suddenly interrupted us. I couldn't believe she was here or that she had the nerve to bring him. I scowled at both of them.

"What are you doing here?" There was no hiding the bite in my tone.

My mom cleared her throat. "Really, Nashville, how would it look if we weren't here?"

Seriously? I felt my back teeth snap together.

"I don't care how it looks. This is a time for Phil's family, the people that loved him. You made your choice and it wasn't either of us, so you can just go."

I felt Saint's fingers curl around my elbow.

"You're being ridiculous." To my mother I always was.

I opened my mouth to retort when Grant decided he was going to jump into the conversation.

"You always were a selfish brat. Now move out of the way before someone comes out and walks into this scene. Stop being undignified ... if you can manage it."

I saw red. I was going to rip his throat out. I was going to break his nose. I was going to ... pull my outraged girlfriend back because she stepped in front of me and jabbed the tip of her finger right in the center of Grant's tie. It was rare to see her get so heated, so I took a step forward to put a hand on her shoulder just to keep her steady.

"How dare you?" She was furious on my behalf, fuming and fully in the midst of a redheaded fit of temper. It was awesome, but Grant narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. "You're nothing but an elitist bully. You were so fortunate to have a chance to raise a happy and healthy child, and yet you threw that away. Nash is a million times the man you'll ever be." Her eyes flashed as she looked between my mom and Grant. "You're selfish and awful and you deserve each other. You didn't earn the right to have Nash as a son."

Grant made a strangled noise in his throat and took another step toward her. I reached around Saint and put a hand in the center of his chest and pushed him back. I made sure he understood the seriousness of what I was saying to him in my tone.

"If you so much as look at her wrong, I will break every bone in your body, and then when they heal I will break them all again. When I was a kid you were a d.i.c.k and I couldn't do anything about it. I'm not a kid anymore so you might want to watch it."

"Are you threatening me?" He sounded indignant and prissy.

"No, I'm just telling you how it is. I don't want you here, either of you. Now, if you'll excuse us, I have to go give my father's eulogy."

My mom looked like she wanted to say something else, but just like she always did when Grant started to lead her away, she went willingly. I looked down at Saint and gave her a lopsided smile.

"Let's do this."

She clasped my hand and lifted one rust-colored brow at me. "Your real name is Nashville?"

I did something I never thought I would do on such a rough day: I laughed. "Yeah, and never mention it again."

I walked into the church and sat her down next to Cora, who immediately wrapped my girl up in a hug. I kept going to the podium that was set up off to the side of the urn and little memorial the girls had created. There were pictures of Phil throughout the years, his first tattoo machine, his leather jacket, the bars off his navy uniform ... it was a fitting and thoughtful tribute. I looked at it out of the corner of my eye, cleared my throat, and let my gaze wander over the crowd.

I saw Rule nod at me, saw Jet tilt his head just a little, Rowdy gave me a sad little half grin, and Cora just kept crying silently into Rome's shoulder. It was those soft gray eyes I landed on. She was just watching me, serene and so precious. I ignored everyone else and focused what I had to say on her.

"I called Phil Donovan a lot of things for the time I had him in my life. Friend, boss, mentor, uncle, and at the end ... dad. He was all of those things and so much more to so many. Phil took in anyone that was lost and tried to guide them in the right direction until they were found. In doing that, he brought a bunch of angry, frustrated, directionless souls together and now we have each other. We owe our family to Phil."

I heard throats clear and saw bodies shift in the seats.

"When I was younger I wanted to be just like Phil when I grew up. I thought he was so cool, had the greatest job, and I admired how he lived his life on his own terms, all while trying his d.a.m.nedest to take care of me. He was a great guy, and if you asked me then what he would've wanted to be remembered for, I would've said it was his art, his dedication to creating a place for creativity and individuality to flourish. Now ..." I had to take a second to clear my throat and I curled my hands into fists on the podium in front of me. "Now I think my answer would be me. I'm a man that made his father proud. I'll keep his dream, his legacy, alive and I'll do it with his memory in mind every step of the way. I also think he would be proud of us. Despite the trials, the struggles, the roadblocks life has decided to throw in our paths, we are falling in love, getting married, having babies, growing businesses, and doing the things that make us happy. I think that's all he ever really wanted for any of us. Phil Donovan will be missed, my dad will be missed-but he will live on in each and every one of us whose lives he touched and helped shape."

I didn't have anything else, so I said thank you, told the crowd that was silently weeping for the most part that anyone that wanted to share something was more than welcome to get up and take the mike, and went down to take a seat by my girl.

She had tracks of tears on her pale face and curled into me with her head on my shoulder.

"Thank you." Her voice was a husky breath of sound.

"For what?"

"For being you."

So there it was. I put an arm around her shoulders and listened to people tell stories about how wonderful my dad was, how impactful he had been, and I thought when it was all said and done I would take his ashes somewhere up in the mountains, drive the Charger way too fast, and let him go. It was an ending he would approve of all the way around.

CHAPTER 18.

Saint

After the funeral, Nash looked like he was going to fall over from lack of sleep and stress. His friend Cora and her dad, who had been friends with Phil while in the navy, were having a get-together at her house for everyone. I knew Nash was going to try and power through and go, but he needed to go to bed and recharge. I didn't want to say anything, wasn't sure it was my place, but when I mentioned how burned out he looked, Rule and Rome both agreed, and told me I should take him home and put him to bed. Rule said it more with a leer, which had his brother thunking him on the back of the head, but all the same, when Nash broke away from the group that had commandeered him, I let him gather me up and told him, "Take me home."

He didn't argue, didn't question it, didn't stop to tell everyone else what he was doing, just whisked me away to the Charger and took me back to the Victorian. Once we were inside, he started peeling off his dark clothing, which was a delightful sight to see for sure, but after he took a shower and shoved some food in his face, he was obviously dead on his feet, which didn't leave room open for talking, let alone anything else that might have been on the agenda.

I kicked off the heels I had worn all day, cuddled up to his big, tattooed body and rubbed his shaved head, traced my fingers over the flames decorating his scalp and shoulders until his heavy chest started rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His dark lashes fluttered lightly against his tawny cheeks and I rubbed a thumb gently over his raven-colored eyebrows. He was beautiful, perfect, and stronger than anyone I had ever known. He was all mine. I would never take that for granted again.

Once he was settled, I slipped out from under him and went to pick up around the apartment that had been neglected for the last few weeks. I called Sunny and told her I was back and that I would be back at work as soon as she needed me, and told her to set up the interview with the director of nursing for the promotion. I gave her the CliffsNotes version of what had been going on and my heart just swelled with how receptive and kind she was. I really needed to let that friendship grow outside of work because she was a really great lady and so firmly in my corner. I also called Faith to fill her in and got an earful about running off to Phoenix with no warning.

I think she was happy for me in the grand scheme of things, she was definitely thrilled that Mom was doing so much better, but she made it clear that Nash was not her first choice for me. At some point, her opinion, her feelings on the matter, might have held me back, might have swayed me into thinking we weren't the best match, but I knew better now. Like I told him, I had to look at myself and my life through my own lens and no one else's, and all I saw on the other side of that was him and the me he saw when he looked at me with those brilliant eyes of his.

I was rinsing out a million abandoned coffee mugs and getting ready to load the dishwasher when there was a light tap on the door. Since all of his friends were at Cora and Rome's house and he had made his stance clear with his mother, I figured it had to be Royal. I wiped my hands on a towel and went to pull the door open. My eyes got huge when I took her in.

Her dark red hair was in a tangled mess. She had a yellow-and-green bruise blooming around one of her dark eyes, and her bottom lip was split wide open. She had the bottom half of her police uniform on and a plain white tank top on top. There was blood on the collar and one of the arms was ripped.

"Are you okay?"

She snorted but I saw her cut lip tremble just a little. "Hazard of the job. I tussled with a junkie that was bigger and meaner than me. I just wanted to see how the two of you were doing."

She really was nice and I wanted to give her and this burgeoning friendship a shot.

"We're all right. It was rough for a minute. His mom is a witch and his stepdad sucks, but the service was nice and Nash broke everyone's heart with his eulogy. He's crashed out, which I think he needs more than anything now. Thank you for calling me."

She gathered her messy hair in a fist and nodded. "You were on your way home anyway. That's what matters. I had a s.h.i.t day. I'm going to lie down, too."

I grabbed her arm as she turned away and noticed she had the glitter of tears in her dark eyes.

"It gets easier, you know."

"What does?"

"Having a job like you do. My first night on the floor in the ER, there was a gang shooting. They rolled in five gunshot wounds at the same time. I was trained for it, knew what I was supposed to do, but after it was all said and done, I went home and cried for three hours and lost my lunch. You get used to it, it just becomes part of the routine."

She nodded and ran her tongue over the nasty cut bisecting her lip. "That's why I need you to be my friend, Saint."

She was back across the hallway and in front of her own door when I called out, "You have my number, use it."