Page 64 of Arranged Scars
I don’t care if I end up dead. I never really believed I’d survive killing her entire family. I’m arrogant, but not stupid.
So why get her involved? Why keep dragging her along? I didn’t care at first—she’s a Flanagan, after all—but I feel it now.
I don’t want her to get hurt.
So why not listen to my mother? The smartest, savviest woman I know?
We can stop. Redmond and Shane are dead. Mal and Dermot lost their brothers and that old fuck Eamon lost his sons, and they will have to live with their grief. That could be enough.
Why not stop and spare Caroline the misery that’s got to be coming?
“I’m sorry, Mom.” I pat her hand lightly and let her go. I step back, putting space between us. “I’ll be careful. I don’t want Caroline to get hurt.”
“What about you?”
“That ship sailed years back. You didn’t want me getting hurt? You should’ve kept me away from those fucking monsters.” I walk away, staring grimly straight ahead. “Too late for that.”
24
CAROLINE
“She got lucky.” The nurse helps Mom from the bed. She’s a young woman, maybe only a few years older than me. I wonder what it feels like doing a job where you matter. “Her injuries could’ve been much worse, right, Mrs. Flanagan?”
“That’s right, Holly.” Mom pats the nurse’s hand lightly and accepts her cane. “Bones and bruises fade. But I don’t feel like I’m lucky.”
“No, I guess not. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put it that way.” The nurse helps Mom to the door, but eventually lets her go. “Take it easy. You have your discharge and care instructions. Make sure you follow them.”
“I will, hon. Thanks for everything.”
Mom leans on me as we leave the hospital. There’s a car waiting for us out front. “Dad should be here,” I say absently.
“Your father’s got more important things to do.”
“More important than his injured wife getting out of the hospital?”
“He’s broken up about what happened to Redmond. That generator never should’ve blown like that. I think your father’s going to tear the manufacturer to pieces. I know the site manager’s already been fired.”
I stare at her, trying to figure out how much of this she believes. “Do you think he knows what really happened?”
“I doubt anyone does,” she says with a sad shrug. We limp together slowly through the lobby. “I mean, a faulty fuel line? Honestly? Catastrophic failures like that should never happen.”
I pause with her before we exit through the front automatic doors. She looks at me quizzically, smiling her little half-smile, like she’s trying to put on a brave face. That’s my mother, always putting on a face.
“Do you remember the explosion?” I ask her, trying to do it as gently as I can. “Do you remember how hard it kicked?”
She flinches. I see it even though she quickly covers herself by rubbing her eyes. “It’s a blur now. Poor Redmond. Do you think he tried to save me in the end? Maybe that’s why he got it so much worse.”
“Do you really think Redmond would try to save you, Mom?”
“Darling, he’s my youngest son.”
“Wasyour youngest.”
She ignores that. “He’s not perfect. None of my children are perfect, just like nobody’s a saint, but he did his best. He loves his family.”
“Is that why he was hitting you?”
Another flinch and this time she glares at me coldly. “Why would you say something like that?”
