Undeserving (Undeniable #5)(39)
A slow smile split Preacher's lips. "Fair enough, Wheels." He knocked his fist lightly on the wall. "Lots of people where we're going. Lots of wallets to steal. You'll love it." With a wink, he disappeared inside the bathroom.
Staring at the empty space he'd just vacated, Debbie bit down on her bottom lip, barely breathing. She remained that way until she heard the shower turn on, and then she propelled herself face-first onto a pillow … and grinned.
Chapter 14
Present Day
"So you took her to Four Points?" I asked.
"‘Course I did," Preacher mumbled, yawning. "I guess I felt … responsible for what happened to her.
"Hell," he continued, "it ain't like I had anything better to be doin' anyway." He yawned again.
"I think you just wanted to kiss her again," I said softly.
Although his eyes were closed, he smiled. "That too, baby girl … that too … "
Seated on a hard plastic chair beside Preacher's hospital bed, my chin resting on the bedrail, I watched his ashen features grow slack with sleep. He'd been talking animatedly for almost an hour, and then suddenly he'd gone quiet, staring off across the room. Maybe it was the reliving of his memories that had exhausted him, after keeping them locked away inside him for so long.
God knew I was feeling exhausted myself.
Getting to my feet, I leaned over the bedrail and drew the blanket up to his chin, tucking it tightly around his shoulders. Then I smoothed a few wisps of hair away from his forehead and placed a soft kiss there.
Turning, I found Deuce standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded over his chest. "You alright, darlin'?"
I nodded despite myself. Not only was I learning that everything I'd thought I'd known about my mother had been a lie, but the reality of how sick Preacher actually was, that I was indeed losing my father, was becoming more apparent with every passing moment in his presence.
If only I'd known how sick he'd been back when there would have been time to do something. Chemotherapy, radiation, something … anything! God, if only Preacher had just told me. If only someone had fucking told me.
"Did the boys leave?" I asked, peering around Deuce into the hall.
Deuce dipped his chin. "Most of ‘em. Joe's around here somewhere. And Tiny, that fat fuck, is snoring up a storm in the waiting room, drooling all over himself, driving me fuckin' crazy."
Nodding, I shot a quick glance at my father and released a shaky sigh. When the time came, I knew Tiny would have to be dragged kicking and screaming from Preacher's side. Despite Tiny's less appealing tendencies, his loyalty and love for my father was unwavering.
"You know, she wasn't a junkie," I told Deuce. Shaking my head, I shrugged helplessly. "Did you hear what he said?" I gestured at my father. "She wasn't a junkie."
Suddenly awash with feelings, my eyes filled with tears. I'd hated my mother-a supposed teenage junkie who'd abandoned me-for my entire life, only to find out I'd been hating a lie.
"She was just a kid," I whispered, my voice breaking. "And she was out there all alone … "
Guilt squeezed my chest. Guilt for hating her. Guilt for never questioning the lies I'd been told.
"Babe." Deuce held out his arms to me. Feeling drained, both physically and emotionally, I crossed the room quickly and collapsed into them. He held me tightly, crushing me to him.
"If she was livin' on the streets, she damn sure wasn't a fuckin' kid anymore. You know this shit. Ain't no use in beatin' yourself up for somethin' that happened a fuck of a long time ago." He pulled back just enough to peer down at me. "You feel me?"
I knew he was right, but it wasn't as if I could help how I was feeling. This was all new information to me, and it was going to take time to process and come to terms with it. Then there was still the matter of what exactly had happened to my mother.
My father was acting as if it were imperative I know all the details leading up to the truth. And I didn't want to rush him because I wanted to hear all those details, too. But at the same time, I also wanted to skip right to the end.
An overwhelming desire to see my children suddenly swept through me. To see their faces, hear their voices. Squeezing my eyes shut, my gathering tears slid free.
"We should have brought the kids," I whispered, pressing my nose to Deuce's shirt, breathing in the familiar, comforting smell of him. "They should be here to say goodbye."
"There's still time, darlin'." He smoothed a work-roughened hand down the long length of my hair. "You say the word and I'll get ‘em here."