Undeserving (Undeniable #5)(114)

But he'd also been so much more than that, more than I'd ever dreamed. I'd never known the young Preacher-full of self-doubt, lost in the world, and wishing for something more. I hadn't known the son who'd struggled to free himself from the life his father had laid out for him. Neither had I known the man who'd loved the girl.

I only knew the person he'd become after he'd lost so much, the man he'd become because he'd lost so much. I was suddenly feeling as if he'd been shortchanged-as if we both had.

"Ah, shit, Eva." Preacher reached over the bedrail, his hand quivering. "Never could stand seein' you cry."

I grasped his hand between mine and bowed my head. And then I cried. I cried for all of us. For Preacher, for The Judge and Ginny, for Elizabeth Stephens, and …  for me.

"Why did you wait until now to tell me the truth?" I eventually asked, wiping away the last of my tears. "About all of it. I still don't understand, Daddy. Why did you keep it from me?"

Preacher stared at me for a moment, considering. "Back then a lot of people thought I took out my own parents, and I didn't bother correcting them. They thought I was crazy, they were afraid of me, and that served me well over the years …  but I didn't want you knowin' any of that-thinkin' that of me." He paused, his chest heaving with heavy, painful-sounding breaths. 

"I might have told you the truth once you were old enough to understand. But as it turned out …  I didn't even know the truth."

Tears filled his eyes. "And then …  I couldn't tell you, Eva. I couldn't face it. It was all my fault …  all my fuckin' fault. It was right there in front of my face the whole goddamn time and I never saw it."

Eyes narrowed in confusion, I squeezed his hand harder. "What was your fault?"

His sunken features contorted. Pain blazed in his eyes. "Everything, baby girl. Every goddamn thing."

• • •

The click-click of footsteps across the floor startled Preacher awake. He'd fallen asleep slumped forward in one of the two uncomfortable chairs in Frank's hospital room. Pushing upright, he peered at the newcomer in the room through blurry eyes. Petite, with long blonde hair, the young nurse gave Preacher a sympathetic smile.

Approaching Frank, she began systematically checking the machines surrounding his hospital bed. Muted red and green lights flashed from one; a soft, steady beeping came from another. And in the center of it all lay Frank-heavily sedated, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth, he lay utterly still save for the slight rise and fall of his chest.

It had been three days since Preacher had gotten the call-Frank had been involved in an accident on the Long Island Expressway. The pileup had sent a Mack truck skidding straight into Frank's bike, dragging him across three lanes of traffic and crashing through the median before dislodging him.

Glancing at the empty chair beside him, Preacher wondered where Tiny had disappeared to. He looked to the window-at the black sky beyond the brightly lit skyline. Then at the clock on the wall-it was nearly midnight.

Scratching idly at his stubbled jaw, Preacher got to his feet and approached the bed. "How's he doin'?" he asked.

"It's too soon to tell," the nurse replied. "He's suffered so many injuries. His body needs time to heal."

He glanced down at his friend's unrecognizable face-bruised and swollen and missing skin on his left cheek. Most of the skin on the left side of his body was in similar condition-mangled and shredded. Frank had also broken his left arm, both of his legs, and nearly all his ribs. There was internal damage, too-some brain swelling and a punctured lung that he'd since had surgery to repair.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've seen people recover from far worse."

Eyes flicking up, Preacher nodded slowly. He knew Frank would recover. He and the rest of the club would see to that.

Finished checking on Frank, she started across the room. Pausing at the door, she glanced over her shoulder and flashed Preacher a smile-an interested, flirtatious smile.

"You should go home and go to bed," she said.

Fully awake now, Preacher took a moment to look her over. She was cute, but nothing special. There was nothing remotely interesting about her face or body, nothing that stood out and made him take notice. Still … she'd do.

"Yeah?" He raised his brows. "You gonna join me?"

Her answering blush was contrived-an attempt to look innocent when her body language told him she was anything but. Head tilted to one side, neck exposed, her slim fingers tapped along the side of her white dress uniform, purposely drawing his attention to her tilted hip.

Not in the mood for games, Preacher regarded her plainly. "What time do you get off?"