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“You’re okay,” Joey said, twisting around to face me, giving me his full attention. “You’ve been in and out of it for two days. Docs gave you something so they could put the—” His words broke off and he flailed his hands out, shaking from head to toe. “The—” Running his hands through his hair, he shook his head and snapped his fingers. “Fuck, I can’t remember the words.”

“You were brought into the hospital on Saturday evening,” Darren explained in a much more together tone of voice. “Today is Tuesday, Shannon. You’ve been in and out for a few days.”

“Yeah, by me,” Joey snarled, shoulders stiffening. “She was brought in here byme. Where the fuck wereyou,Golden Boy?”

“You were treated for a severe concussion and a traumatic pneumothorax,” Darren continued to explain, ignoring Joey’s comments. “You were pretty banged up when you got here. You’ve had some stitches on your cheek to close a cut and some bruised ribs.”

“Bruised ribs,” Joey sneered mockingly. “Open your eyes, Darren. She’s bruisedeverywhere!”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Joey?” Darren demanded, glaring at my brother with narrowed eyes. “Are you high? Is that it? Did you take something?”

“Yeah, I took something,” Joey shot back, turning his rage on Darren. “I took a lot of fucking beatings. That’s what I took, asshole.”

“Joe, relax.” Anxious, I placed a hand on Joey’s hand to calm him and looked to Darren. “What does a traumatic pneumothorax mean?”

“It means that bastard kicked you so hard he collapsed your lung,” Joey filled in, pulsing with anger. “It means they had to shove a fucking pipe through your body to help you breathe.”

“Oh god.” Panic-stricken, I looked down at my body and whimpered. “Am I okay?” I placed a trembling hand over the wound. “Is that bad?”

“It’s not serious,” Darren hurried to console. “You didn’t have surgery. They were able to relieve the pressure and help you breathe by inserting a small tube into your—”

“Not serious?” Joey demanded. “Are you fuckingkiddingme?”

“Joey,” Darren growled. “Calm down.”

“Is there a hole?” I choked out, peeking under my gown. “Is it still inside me?”

“No, Shannon,” Darren soothed. “They removed it yesterday morning. You’ve had chest X-rays and CT scans. Everything looks great, okay?”

I nodded, feeling numb.

“But you’ll be sore for a couple of weeks,” he added with a grimace. “And you’re on a course of antibiotics to prevent infection.” Shaking his head, Darren added, “The nurses will explain everything better than I can.”

“Really?” Joey sniped. “I thought you were great at everything.”

“Whatever they prescribed you for your pain, consider it out of bounds,” Darren growled, glaring at Joey. “I’m cutting you off.”

Joey laughed. “Paracetamol?”

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Darren shot back, tone even.

“Why are you here?” I croaked out, feeling the panic lodge in my chest.

“I’m here to help, Shannon,” Darren replied. “I’m here to take care of you—all of you.” He cast a glance in Joey’s direction and sighed. “Even you.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” Joey spat out.

“Why?” Clasping my hands together, I exhaled slowly and asked, “How did you know about what happened?”

“Mam called him,” Joey replied, casting another menacing glare in Darren’s direction. “Apparently, the bitch had the bastard’s number this whole time.” His tone was dripping with venomous sarcasm. “They lied to us, Shan. Imagine that.”

Darren released a pained groan. “Come on, Joey, don’t say that.” Furrowing his brow, he added, “That’s our mother you’re talking about—”

“Our mother?” Joey laughed humorlessly, feet bobbing restlessly. “We have one of those? Fuck, and here’s me thinking mothers were mythical creatures like unicorns, because I sure as shit never met one in the flesh.”

“You were in contact with Mam the whole time?” I croaked out, reeling. “For five and a half years?”

“He sure was,” Joey filled in before Darren could. “Couldn’t pick up the phone and check on us, but he was in close contact with Mommy dearest.”

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