Page 4 of Part & Parcel

Nick’s forehead furrowed and he squeezed his eyes tight. Then he took in a deep breath and opened them again. “That’s right.”

The relief that flooded through Kelly was bittersweet. Where had Nick been for the last few days, lost in his memories?

“What day is it?” Nick asked, his voice so rough it was almost painful to listen to. “Did I miss Opening Day?”

Kelly laughed, knowing he was dangerously close to hysterical now that the weight of worry had been lifted. He hugged Nick closer, smooshing his face against Nick’s. Nick’s hand settled carefully on Kelly’s back.

“No, you didn’t miss it,” Kelly finally managed. “Still lots of time.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Nick whispered as his fingers curled into Kelly’s shirt.

His breathing was more labored against Kelly’s cheek, and his grip on Kelly’s back began to tighten, his nails digging in. The beeping of his monitors, which had faded into background noise for Kelly about two days ago, began to encroach on his awareness, beeping going faster, a warning Kelly knew all too well.

Kelly pushed away from Nick just before the machines went into a full-blown panic and Nick twisted on the bed, writhing and gasping. Kelly shoved his chair aside, sending it toppling sideways, as he ran for the door to call for help.

He should have known a gentle reunion wasn’t Nick’s style.

March 4, 2013

It was early March in Boston, and Kelly’s fellow mourners were forced to brave a brisk wind as they gathered in the cemetery. Many in the crowd were in uniform, shined and pressed and stoic as befitted the funeral of a retired member of the Boston Police Department.

Kelly had to squint against the sun to see the small crowd around them. The wind ripped at his lapels, ruffled his hair, and made his eyes water. He wasn’t the only one. Several of those around him were fighting the stiff breeze, using handkerchiefs and sunglasses to fend it off.

He turned his eyes back toward the coffin as it was lowered into the ground. Nick’s four sisters, only two of whom Kelly had actually met, stood together, singing a beautiful version of “The Parting Glass.” The youngest one got choked up before the second verse and wasn’t able to continue. She stood with her head lowered, tears streaming down her cheeks, as her sisters continued the song. Watching her, Kelly couldn’t really feel anything. No empathy, no sadness. Nothing.

Nick moved beside him, jostling his shoulder as he stepped out of line from the others. He was relying heavily on a cane, but something about his perfectly pressed uniform contrasted with the limp and gave him a gravitas that he probably wouldn’t care to lend intentionally to Brian O’Flaherty’s funeral.

Nick took his youngest sister by the arm, straightening her up without a word. She buried her face in his chest, holding to him as he sang the next verse with them.

Kelly shivered at the way Nick’s eyes never strayed to the coffin, how he stared right over the crowd and sang to help his sisters say farewell to a man who didn’t deserve it.

Kelly was still watching Nick when the song ended. He was still watching him when the crowd began to disperse. Nick stood alone as his sisters moved away to throw dirt into the grave. Kelly frowned worriedly when Nick didn’t follow them, and he counted to five before he stood and joined Nick.

“You okay?” Kelly whispered. He took Nick’s elbow, standing close enough that Nick leaned against him with a huff.

“I’ll be fine,” Nick grumbled. He snickered and met Kelly’s eyes. “She moved away on me and I realized I was stuck without someone to lean on.”

Kelly scowled. Nick’s condition was no fucking laughing matter, but Nick kept on making jokes out of it. It was his way of coping, but Kelly wasn’t laughing. He wound his arm around Nick’s waist, and Nick wrapped an arm around Kelly’s shoulders, using the cane and putting a lot of weight on Kelly as they moved together toward the line of waiting vehicles. Nick had chosen to ride in his own car rather than join the family in the procession.

“Nicholas,” a woman called from behind them. Kelly glanced over his shoulder to find Nick’s mother there. She’d remained mostly stoic throughout her husband’s service. In fact, the only person who’d seemed especially upset over Brian’s passing had been their youngest daughter, Nessa. She was only a year or two out of high school—Kelly couldn’t quite remember how old she was—and she was inconsolable over the loss of her father.

Kelly had fought to find sympathy for her. But that girl had known a very different father than Nick had known.

“Ma’am,” Nick said without turning around. He had his head lowered, his arm still around Kelly’s neck, but tightening as he tensed.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?”

Kelly shook his head. “He’s done too much already. I have to get him home.”

“He only had one father,” she snapped, hard eyes on Kelly.

“I’ll see you there,” Nick said over his shoulder, his fingers tightening on Kelly’s jacket before Kelly could respond.

His mother moved away, giving Kelly another look that told him exactly what she thought of the fact that her only son had aboyfriend.

“How the hell did two such horrible people come up with something amazing like you?” Kelly snarled.

“Murphy’s Law,” Nick grunted as they continued on toward his Range Rover. “We’ll stay long enough for people to see my face. Then we’re done.”

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