by Pandora Pine
“Can I get you some water or something to eat?” Cassie asked, taking the seat next to him.
Ten shook his head. “I know I should have something, but my stomach is a mess. I don’t think I could keep anything down. Thank you, Cassie. Thank you for being here for me and Ronan.”
He looked around the waiting room at all of the people who’d come to sit with him and pray for Ronan. Truman and Carson were here. Inez and Luisa Salazar were at Truman’s house with all four of the babies. Fitzgibbon and Greeley were here, along with Jace Lincoln. Jace hadn’t let go of Kevin’s hand since they got here. Captain Davidson was here too, as were Bertha and Erin. Vann Hoffman and Broughan Beals had come in about half an hour ago.
The door opened and in walked a youngish looking man dressed in blue surgeon’s scrubs. “I’m looking for Tennyson Grimm.”
“That’s me. I’m Tennyson. How’s Ronan? Is he alive?” Ten stood up on shaking legs and took a few steps over to the doctor who nodded.
“My name is Peter Gillis. I’m the surgeon who operated on Ronan. The surgery went well, but the next few hours are very critical. Thankfully, all three bullets struck Detective O’Mara in the right side of his chest so his heart wasn’t damaged. Unfortunately, his right lung took the brunt of the impact.”
“Is he going to make it, doctor?” Carson slung an arm around Truman from behind.
“As I said, the next few hours are going to tell us a lot. We’re having him moved up to pulmonary intensive care where he will receive round the clock monitoring. We’re doing everything we can for him.”
“Can I see him?” Tennyson asked.
“Once we have him settled into a room,” the doctor said. “I’ll send someone down for you in about half an hour.”
“Thank you so much, doctor.” Tennyson managed to stay on his feet until the doctor left the room. Once the door was closed, he felt his knees buckle. Thankfully, Fitzgibbon was behind him and caught him, wrapping an arm around him from behind. He helped Ten into a chair and crouched in front of it.
“Listen to me, Ten.” Fitzgibbon searched Ten’s gaze until the psychic made eye contact. “Greeley is going to run down to the cafeteria to grab you something to eat. You’re going to eat every bite, right?”
Ten nodded numbly. He watched as Kevin went for his wallet and Jace shook his head. He and Greeley left the room together. Kevin turned back to Tennyson.
“I know how much strength Ronan is going to need to get through this ordeal.” Fitzgibbon tapped the spot on his chest where he’d been shot back in May. “He’s gonna need you at full strength too. Cry your last tears in this room. They aren’t going to help him in intensive care, okay?”
“Yeah.” Ten saw Carson and Cole take the empty seats around him.
“We’re all here for you, man.” Carson wrapped an arm around Ten’s shoulder. “You’re our brother. Ronan too, and we’re here no matter what. We’ll take shifts sitting with him and with you so you can get some sleep.”
“I’ll bring Dixie home with us,” Truman added, before he pressed a kiss to the side of Tennyson’s head.
Ten reached out for Truman, who wrapped his arms around Ten. Tru was the reason Ronan was alive in the first place. If he hadn’t forgotten his yoga mat at home, Ronan would have most likely bled out on their front steps. It had to have been absolutely horrifying for Truman to have found Ronan like that. His clothes were still stained with Ronan’s blood. “I can’t ever thank you enough for saving him.”
“I’m just glad I was there,” Truman whispered.
Tennyson looked over Truman’s shoulder. He could see Erin and Bertha standing near the door. Both women had done so much today to save him and Ronan. Erin pointed up at the ceiling and vanished. Ten knew she was going upstairs to be with Ronan. Bertha came over to him.
“How are you feeling, Tenny?” she asked gently.
“I’m okay, Bertha. I’m so sorry I yelled at you earlier.” Guilt was eating away at him now that he knew Ronan was out of surgery.
“It’s okay, baby. I was only trying to protect you from what I knew your future would bring. I didn’t want Carson or Cole to know the truth either.”
“If today was supposed to be my day to die, what happens now?”
“Your day to die?” Fitzgibbon paled.
Cole set a hand on his arm. “We’ll explain later.”
“You live, Ten. You put this awful day behind you and you don’t look back.” Bertha set her hands on Tennyson’s shoulders.
Ten nodded. He could do that. He would live for Ronan.
Jace and Greeley came back with enough food for everyone in the waiting room. Jace passed out sandwiches and bags of chips, while Greeley offered soda and juice choices. Now that Ronan was out of the immediate woods, the mood in the room had lightened.
“I remember this one time I was at his desk looking for a pen,” Fitzgibbon said. “I opened his center drawer and it was loaded with these rainbow-colored rocks. What the hell was that about?”
Carson and Cole looked at each other and started laughing. “Those are fluorite crystals. They’re supposed to be good for warding off anxiety.”
Fitzgibbon rolled his green eyes. “Shit, he had enough of them in there to start his own Nancy page.”
Greeley howled with laughter. “That’s an Etsy store, Dad.”
Kevin laughed too. “Yeah, well, that too.”
“I remember all those times he’d just pop in unannounced to help me with the babies.” Truman’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. “He’d have lunch for the two of us, but he’d take care of the babies so I could eat in peace. There were times when he’d be on the couch holding all three screaming hellions at once. He’d sing these Irish lullabies his mother used to sing when he was a kid.” Truman swiped away the tears that had started to fall. “It worked too. They always settled down to sleep in Uncle Ronan’s arms.”
Ten couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I didn’t know he did that.”
“Usually he’d stop by when you were working.” Truman shrugged. “I’ve got pictures. I’ll send them to you. It was our little thing, I guess. Our guy time.”
“I love that the two of you had that together.” Ten managed a small smile. “I’m sure it was one of the reasons he was so excited to find that house on your street. It was all he could talk about when the realtor told us about it. I knew it was meant to be our house.” Ten shivered. Buying that house had saved Ronan’s life. If they’d moved somewhere else, who knew if another neighbor would have been there to have saved Ronan like Truman had done.
“I’ll never forget the day the two of you met.” Carson laughed. “Talk about dislike at first sight!”
Ten shook his head. “He was there for my help but didn’t trust me one bit. That was the first time he called me Nostradamus.” He battled against the tears he felt threatening again.
“I always wondered why you let him call you that.” Cole smiled.
“It started out being an insult of sorts, but after a while, it became an endearment. He’d kind of say it as an insult, but there’d be warmth in his voice.” Ten smiled through the fat tears starting to fall down his face.
“There’s always warmth in his voice,” Greeley said. “We have a lot of late night talks and he always knows just what to say to make me feel stronger.”
Fitzgibbon shot Tennyson a shocked look. “I didn’t know that.”
Greeley shook his head. “When you were in the hospital, Ten and Ronan came and stayed with me a lot at rehab. Ronan and I got really close. He took his responsibility as my guardian very seriously and it grew a bond between us. You’re my Dad, but Ronan’s my…” Greeley took a deep breath and looked at Tennyson for help.
“Hero? Mentor? Best friend?” Ronan was all of those things to Tennyson and knew others saw him that way too.
Greeley nodded. “He’s good people, like you say, Dad. Ronan’s my family. All of you are.”
Fitzgibbon wrapped an arm around his so
n. “Well said.”
The door to the waiting room opened and in walked a nurse dressed in light green scrubs. “Mr. Grimm?”
Ten raised his hand. “I’m Tennyson Grimm.”
The nurse smiled. “Mr. O’Mara is settled in his room. I’ll take you to him.”
Ten stood up and walked toward the nurse. He stopped and turned back. “Thank you all for being here for Ronan. Kevin, can I see you in the hall for a minute?”
Fitzgibbon stood and walked into the hallway with Tennyson and the nurse. “What’s up?”
“I want him guarded. I should have said something sooner, but…” Ten didn’t want to say that he didn’t know if Ronan was going to make it through the surgery, but now that he was out of the operating room, Ten wanted an armed police officer outside Ronan’s door 24/7 until the bastard who did this was caught and caged like the animal he was.
“I’ve got uniformed members of the BPD in the parking lot. We’ll set up a rotation. We’re not going to give whoever did this a second chance.”
“Make a list of approved visitors, Kevin. Us, Greeley, Carson, Truman, Cole, Cassie, Davidson, Jace, Vann and Broughan, Tony and Carlie. That’s it. If someone else has a problem with that, use the hospital as the excuse. Only so many people are allowed in.”
“You got it. Give him my best, okay?”
Ten nodded. “Come up later. I’ll need you. We both will.”
Kevin nodded and set a hand on Ten’s shoulder. “Be strong, Ten. We’ve got you.”
“Thanks, Cap.” Ten smiled and followed along behind the nurse. He was anxious to see Ronan.
“Is Mr. O’Mara your friend?” the nurse asked.
Ten shook his head. “Detective O’Mara is my fiancé.” With a shaking hand, Ten held out his ring to show her.
“That’s a gorgeous ring! Have the two of you set a date?”
“November first.”
“All Saints Day, that’s nice. I wish you both all the happiness.”
Ten held back on telling her it was the Day of the Dead. He didn’t want to press his luck. He’d been given two miracles of life today. His own and Ronan’s. He was happy to build on that.
27
Ronan
Ronan could hear voices. Some of them sounded very far away. None of them he recognized. All of them sounded like they were underwater. He supposed it was a good thing that he could hear anything at all. It meant he was still alive.
He’d tried to call out for his mother a time or two and she hadn’t answered him. Neither had Bertha Craig. The only conclusion he could draw from the silence was that he was indeed still in the land of the living. That, plus the incessant beeping. He’d watched enough television hospital dramas to know that the steady beeping was the mechanized sound of his heart.
He’d been shot before, a little over a year ago by Manuel Garcia. The pain of that was nothing compared to this. Manuel had been about twenty feet from him when he’d fired the shot that hit his upper chest. This time, the shots that hit him were only coming from mere inches away and there were three of them.
How three bullets managed to miss his heart and vital arteries, he didn’t know. He was sure some doctor, with enough initials after his name to fill in the alphabet twice, would be able to explain it to him in excruciating detail, but all that mattered now was that he was breathing and his heart was pumping.
More voices. Different voices. They sounded closer. One of them sounded familiar. Tennyson! Tennyson was safe. Tennyson was here. Whatever it was that Ronan had managed to do had worked. He’d kept Tennyson safe. He’d done what he’d been put on Earth to do. He’d kept Tennyson Grimm safe. Anything else was just gravy.
Ronan heard Ten’s tentative steps walk into the room. He heard his fiancé gasp. He’d been expecting a reaction like that. Post-op patients never looked good. He assumed he was swollen like an overinflated beach ball and was probably just as colorful. He remembered hitting their brick front steps pretty hard with his face when he fell. His chest would be bruised from the gunshots and the CPR, not to mention the surgical incisions.
I love you, Nostradamus…
“I love you, Ronan,” Ten whispered. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to say those words ever again.”
A second later, Ronan felt Ten’s warm hand engulf his cold one. He never thought he’d feel Tennyson’s touch again, so he guessed they were even in that regard. He tried with all of his strength to squeeze Ten’s hand back, but nothing happened.
“So, we had quite a day.” Ten snorted.
Ronan could hear the pure exhaustion in his voice. They’d both barely gotten any sleep the night before and knowing Ten, he hadn’t slept at all in the time since this shit storm started.
“Truman’s your hero. He forgot his yoga mat and had to come back to get it. Can you believe dad-brain saved your life?” Ten sighed. “Everyone’s here, Ronan: Carson and Truman, Cole and Cassie, Fitzgibbon and Greeley, Davidson, Vann and Broughan, Lyric and Katie, the guys from Cold Case, the O’Dwyers.”
Ronan felt Ten press his soft lips to the back of his hand. “They’re all here for you. Tony and Carlie had something with the kids, but they’ll be by tomorrow. There are going to be guards here too. No one’s going to hurt you. Just like the lyrics of the song say.” Tennyson took in a shaky breath
It was easy to tell Ten was struggling not to cry. Ronan was unable to reach out and comfort Tennyson. To make matters worse Not While I’m Around was stuck in his head. On the positive side of the equation, at least he still had a head for those lyrics to be stuck in.
“Bertha showed me something today, that I’m not sure how to process. Not too many people get to see how they die, or how they were supposed to die.” Ten sighed.
Ronan knew what Ten was talking about. Somehow, he’d seen it too. Once he was better and out of this foul-smelling hospital, he and Ten were going to have a long talk with Bertha Craig about how he was able to see the future and send Tennyson a vision that would stop that awful version of their timeline together from coming true. He tried again to squeeze Ten’s hand, but couldn’t.
“In all of my time speaking to the dead or working with psychic phenomena, I’ve never heard of anything like this before. I mean, I know you’re a special man, Ronan O’Mara, but this goes above and beyond that.”
“Christ, Tennyson. I sure the hell hope he can’t hear you. If he can, there’s gonna be no living with him.” Fitzgibbon laughed.
“Why do you have pillows and blankets?” Ten asked.
“They’re for you. I’m making you up a bed on the uncomfortable looking couch. Come on. You’ve been up for nearly twenty-four hours now. There are two BPD officers here. One is outside Ronan’s door. The other is outside the locked ICU doors. People have to be buzzed into this department by the charge nurse. That officer is checking IDs and making sure the only people that get in are people on the approved list. I also gave them our list for Ronan. I made it smaller than you asked for.”
Ten narrowed his eyes. “You did? Who’s on it?”
“You, me, Carson and Truman. I figured with the shape our boy is in, he didn’t need a room full of visitors at this stage of his recovery. I might amend it to include Greeley once Ronan’s awake, or if you insist.”
Ronan wished he had a vote. He’d add Greeley to the list. That boy was good for his soul. He couldn’t blame Fitzgibbon for keeping the list small and adding an extra layer of security to keep him safe. From what he knew now about Mark and the spirit of Rod Jacobson, they couldn’t be too careful.
Being trapped inside his own mind unable to speak to Tennyson or reach out to Bertha or his mother was a serious problem. At the moment, he was the only one who knew who’d shot him. He was also the only one who knew the shooter had more potential victims on his list.
28
He’d been awake for nearly an hour but was in too much pain to get out of bed. The boy’s headaches had been getting more frequent in number, but this was the worst one he
’d had so far. Maybe he had a brain tumor.
It’s not a tumor…
The last thing he was in the mood for now was a snarky answer from the voice. In addition to the skull-cracker of a headache, he’d had the most bizarre dreams of his entire life last night. All he wanted to do was burrow under the covers and go back to sleep for the rest of the day.
Why don’t you tell me about your dreams? Maybe I could help.
The boy frowned. Maybe the voice could help? “I dreamed that I went to see Detective O’Mara at his house in Salem yesterday. We talked for a while and then…” the boy trailed off.
And then what? The voice sounded curious to hear more.
“Then that’s where things got a little fuzzy. Like when a radio station interferes with another and all you get is static.”
Hmm, that’s interesting. Did the static clear up again?
The boy thought the voice sounded like it already knew the answer to that question. “Yeah, then I was walking down the street holding a gun.”
That’s not a big deal. Dreaming about a gun has all kinds of symbolism behind it. It could mean you’re afraid of something or you feel like you need to defend yourself against something or someone.
“Yeah, well my shirt was bloody too.”
It was just a dream…
“It felt like more than a dream. It felt real.”
If it was real then where did you get the gun? Where’s the gun now? Where are your bloody clothes? Hmm?
The boy didn’t like the voice’s all-knowing attitude. He pushed back the covers and saw that he’d slept in an old pair of sweats. That was what he usually slept in. The problem was that he didn’t remember putting them on or actually falling asleep.
He shut his eyes for a second and tried to visualize what he was wearing in the dream. Black cargo shorts and a red Converse tee-shirt. He got out of bed and went to the clothes hamper in the bathroom he shared with the other boys. It was empty. His mother always kept up with the laundry, but it was half-past six in the morning. She wasn’t that good.
