Page 40 of Finn

Roisin was a silent form under the blankets and machinery. Pale and waxen, she looked older than I had ever seen her appear. Vulnerable and small.

Niall sat beside her, taking her hand in his and pressing it to his forehead. I stood behind him, my hand on his shoulder as he wept.

Her specialist came in, and we spoke of results, prognoses, possibilities.

None of it good.

I arranged a room close to the hospital, and Niall and I agreed on a schedule so she would never be alone. I had a feeling getting either of us away from her bedside would prove fruitless, but in theory, it worked.

We sat in that dim room, forcing ourselves to talk. Speak to her. Hoping she knew we were there.

Our cousin Sullivan, ten years our senior and a barrister in Edinburgh, came when we called, looking somber and sad.

“Sully,” I greeted him with a handshake and a backslapping hug. “Good to see you, although I wish not under these circumstances.”

He hugged me back, staring over my shoulder at my aunt. “Jesus, I only saw her two weeks ago when I came to Dublin for the office. She was right as rain. Fussing over me, telling me I needed a wife and I worked too hard. She refused to let me take her to lunch and insisted on cooking a Sunday roast for us.”

“And no doubt sending you home with the leftovers.”

“Aye. I ate like a king for a week.” He wiped his eyes. “How’s Niall?”

“I finally got him to rest.” I snorted, shaking my head. “In the room across the way that was empty. The hotel room is sitting unused. Neither of us has been there.”

“Any change?”

“Well, she isn’t worse. She muttered a little yesterday and squeezed Niall’s hand, so we’re taking that as a good sign.”

“Go get a coffee or take a walk. I’ll sit with her, man. You look like death warmed over.” He lifted one shoulder. “Pardon the expression.”

“I’ll take you up on that. I’ll only be gone a short while. I have my phone with me, and Niall will be back in a minute. I heard his alarm go.”

He nodded. “Off with you.”

The fresh air felt good on my face, and I inhaled it deeply, ridding my lungs of the scents of the hospital. I walked the block, needed to feel the stretch in my legs and arms as I swung them. I got a coffee and bun from a local shop and sat on the bench outside, checking my phone. I saw a missed call from Roman, and I returned it, waiting until he picked up.

“Costas.”

“It’s Finn.”

“How are things?”

“About the same. My cousin arrived, so I’m out on a walk to clear my head. Is there a problem?”

He paused. “Not sure if you’ll think it’s a problem or a solution.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Brian Murphy.”

I shut my eyes. “What now?”

“He picked a fight with one of the crew. It took Oliver and me to pull him off. He was high, Finn. Out of his mind on something.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. I had a zero tolerance for drugs. “When did he start on that shit?”

“You mentioned he seemed off. Oliver noticed his behavior too.” He sighed. “He mouthed off, disrespectful and belligerent. Then basically told us to fuck off—he was done. He had a lot of anger in his departing words.”

“You let him walk?”