Page 86 of The Celtic Resolution
“B–But the treaty,” I sob. “I fucked up, I trusted the wrong people. Everything fell apart and I couldn’t do anything about it and I?—”
“You survived!” Cormac’s grip tightens considerably. “You survived something horrific and that’s all that matters. And thanks to you, we’re one step closer to dismantling the entire surviving black market that still deals in fucking slavery.” Heleans back and his palm cups my tear-soaked cheek, tilting my head up until our eyes meet. “I failed you. I should have seen this coming. I should have had your back instead of reacting in anger. I failed you and Cian and I will never forgive myself. But this is not on you, Saoirse. It’s not.”
His words hit hard, but they’re weak against the persuasion of my own defeated thoughts. “So many people,” I sob. “So many people hurt and dead. Andsold! Oh, my God, I can’t even—” My sobs turn silent as all the pent up pain of being captive, of losing Cian and finding him again only to abandon him, of losing Bruno and?—
I jerk upward suddenly and clutch at Cormac’s arm. “Mary! Bruno’s sister, oh, my God, she was being held and he was?—”
“It’s okay! She’s safe. She’s safe. It’s okay.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” Cormac smiles slightly. “Sarah sent me an address and a somewhat cryptic text before Domenico shot her. With that and Rocky’s men calling not long after, I was able to mobilize and get some people to her in time. She’s fine.”
“Oh, thank God.” Sniffling, I sag forward until my forehead rests against his shoulder. “Bruno will be so relieved.”
If he ever wakes up.
“I know what will make you feel better,” Cormac says after a few long minutes of silence. “Come with me.”
After untangling myself from some of the lines and wires, Cormac helps me into a wheelchair and takes me out of my room, much to the horror of a passing nurse. Cormac’s quick to persuade her that this is the best thing for me right now, and she relents with the condition that she comes with me and covers me with a blanket.
Cormac wheels me through the hospital and straight into the NICU where I have to go through several rounds of washing and thoroughly cleaning my hands and face before we’re allowedinside. Then Cormac takes me right up to my baby, and the moment I’m staring at him through the walls of his incubator is the moment suddenly, nothing else matters.
He’s painfully small. And wrinkly. He sleeps soundly and doesn’t even look real. He rather looks like an old doll more than anything. My heart catches in my raw throat and tears creep up once again, but this time, they don’t fall.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper, pressing one hand against the incubator. “He… he’s okay?”
“Yes,” says the passing NICU nurse. “He’s a fighter just like his mama. He’s getting stronger every day.”
“I…” There are no words. How can something so impossibly small cause so much pain coming out of me? And how can my heart feel so overwhelmingly full when this is my first time seeing him.
“You can touch him,” the nurse says. “Gently. And carefully. But you can if you want to.”
“Oh, I can’t.” I shake my head quickly. “I don’t want to ruin him.”
“Saoirse.” Cormac sounds pained. “You could never.”
“He’s right.” The nurse walks closer to me and slides open one of the small, circular panels that’s just big enough to fit a hand through. “You’re his mother. You protected him and brought him into this world. I promise you can’t ruin him.”
Maybe they’re right.
Cautiously, I lift my hand and place it very delicately through the hole. It takes some time for me to work up the courage to move it further, but eventually, I do. The first time I make contact with his impossibly small hand is indescribable. It’s like the world falls away and warmth descends over me like a blanket, seeping deep into my bones.
Then his tiny hand reacts and grips onto my finger. The movement is so shocking that my instinct is to immediately pullaway, but I restrain myself and just stare in awe as he grips onto me with strength that feels unreal given how small he is.
“Oh, God,” I whisper as tears fall. “Look at him.”
Cormac’s hand rests gently on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Saoirse. So proud.”
They were right.
They were all right.
He’s a fighter, just like me.
And just like his father.
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