Chapter 37
It's a typewriter, not illegal contraband
Paddy
TWO WEEKS LATER
The past few weeks have been a blur. Filled with endless calls and sleepless nights, I’m not sure whether I’m coming or going. The only thing I can be certain of is that every day, for a couple of hours, I get to see my girl in the flesh.
Half of the village caught wind of what happened the night I found Morgan in the graveyard. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it, unsure of what to say. But they’d know the truth of her condition by now, and nothing I could say could make it better, anyway.
Because it hurts, knowing that my biggest blessing lives with the cruellest curse.
Checking her straight into a mental health rehabilitation facility, she was deemed too sick to stay on the acute ward. Although she could tell the doctors Holly had gone, coming to terms with how she’s been living has been an entirely different struggle for her.
Stepping out of my car, I make my way inside the small rehabilitation centre I found and recommended to Bill.
“Good afternoon,” the woman behind the desk greets me, clipboard in hand.
I subtly wave at her. “Esme.”
She initially frowns but then smiles when she recognises me. “Paddy.”
I’ve called and visited every day; I’d be concerned if she didn’t know me by now. “Hi.” I smile.
“She had a good night’s sleep. But she asked a lot of questions this morning.”
I tap the counter with the palm of my hand. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“You’re welcome.”
Pointing past the main desk, I ask, “Can I go through?” Each time I visit, Morgan is always in one place and one place only.
“Of course,” Esme says, looking as if she’s going to say something else. Realising, she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Most patients who come in here don’t have someone willing to come by every day. Morgan’s a lucky lady.”
I give her a light-hearted smile. “I’m the lucky one.”
Her face beams with sincerity as she presses the buzzer for me. “Go right through.”
I walk through the opening double doors and head out to the garden. It’s mid-November. The air has a bite to it. Still, sitting underneath the apple tree with her blanket is the woman who completes me.
Walking up behind her, I lower my lips to her hair, which is tied up in a messy ponytail. “Curly fries.”
Her hand comes up to mine on her shoulder. “Paddy O’Keefe.”
“How are you today?” I move around her and take a seat.
“You called me this morning,” she laughs at me. “Not much has changed in a few hours.”
“I’d have called you more if I was allowed.”
She sits a little straighter. “You’re mad.”
I frown at her.
“Poor choice of words.”
I rest a hand on her leg. “Did you speak to your mum and dad after I called?”
Morgan nods. “Yeah.”
“Do you feel any better?”
“About being lied to for three years? For living a life wondering why everyone treated me so differently, only to find out it’s because I’m crazy.”
“You’re not crazy,” I interject.
She rolls her eyes. Every conversation we have at some point nose dives this way. “Aren’t I?”
Moving my arse to the edge of the chair, I lean forward, taking her hand in mine.
She watches me closely, that frown still firmly in place.
“You’re beautiful.” I kiss the back of her hand. “Humble. Honest. Sexy as hell.” The flush of her cheeks warms my heart. “Should I go on?”
Her shoulders begin juddering with her laugh. “I think you should stop before I think about ripping your clothes off.”
“Confident. I forgot to mention confident.”
She snorts. “I’m the least confident person I know.”
“No, baby. What you’re overcoming takes a lot of fucking guts. Nobody else I know could do what you’re doing.”
“Paddy, stop.”
My head spins with how amazing my girlfriend is. “I’m serious.”
Assessing me, she then leans forwards, lifting off her chair, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. “I need a hug.”
Opening my arms, she nestles into me, her head hitting my chest.
“I couldn’t do this without you, Paddy.”
I sigh, kissing the top of her head. “I wouldn’t let you.” Then I pull her closer, syphoning some of her warmth. “I’m so sorry, curly fries.”
Craning her neck, Morgan looks up at me. “You don’t have to apologise to me. No one does. You were all doing what you thought was best for me. I know that.”
“I would have told you sooner.”
Pulling a fistful of my jumper as though she isn’t close enough, she closes her eyes. “I know.” We sit in silence for a beat. “I can’t wait to come home,” she breathes, her body relaxing into mine.
Running my hand up and down the length of her body, I soak up this time with her. “It won’t be long.”
Electric eyes captivate me when she looks up. “How long?” she pushes.
“Once they know you feel independent and comfortable with everything.”
“I’m already independent.”
My thumb strokes her cheek. “I know you are.” As far as I’m concerned, I want her to come home with me today. “What about everything else?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t ask my family to babysit me for the rest of their lives. I won’t do that, Paddy.”
“Listen to me.” I run my hand to the back of her hair.
“We love you. You’re not asking us to do anything we haven’t already been doing.
All that’s changed is you now know why those little things are so important to us.
This place,” I gesture to our surroundings, “is simply helping you recover while accepting that you might need help and support when you go home.”
Morgan blows out a shaky breath. “What if I become an even bigger burden on you all?”
“The only burden on me is your brother. I liked him more when he wasn’t around.”
One hand covers her face, and she grimaces with a grin. “That bad?”
Truth is, he’s been better than I could have ever imagined. “I’ll survive.”
Laughing against me, she bashfully looks up, meeting my gaze. “Seriously though, Paddy. I don’t want to make anything more stressful for anybody. Not Mum or Dad, you or your family. Nobody, okay?”
I nod but only to appease her. “I get it,” I begin, my voice understanding and light.
“But you still have your job. You have your letter to reply to about your writing. Things are exactly where they should be, curly fries. There’s nothing going on that will make anything more stressful, believe me. ”
“My driving test,” she points out with a rush of air. “I missed it. I’ll have to reschedule and who knows how long I’ll have to wait.”
“I can do that for you.”
She shakes her head. “No, see, this is what I’m talking about. I don’t need you to do anything for me. I should be the one to do it. It was my fault I missed it.”
Pinching my lips, I run a soothing hand through her golden hair. “It wasn’t your fault, but if you want to call and reschedule, you can do that when you get home.”
Her eyes dart between mine, her anxiety rising.
“And in the meantime, I can give you more lessons while serenading you to Shania.”
She laughs, looking off in the distance, thinking to herself, before humming a more relaxed sound. “Okay.” She still sounds flat.
“That okay was no way near as convincing as I need it to be.” I squeeze her skin, feeling her arse wiggle on my legs.
“Okay,” she wails when I dig my fingers in. “Okay.” Her laughing trails off, and it’s honestly the sweetest noise I’ve ever heard.
“I’m going to need more convincing.”
Feeling the pressure behind my trousers, Morgan’s eyes sparkle with delight. “Oh yeah?” She grins, grinding her perfect arse into my crotch.
A groan escapes me. “You’re evil.” I momentarily close my eyes, willing my dick to settle. This is inconvenient to say the least, but you can’t blame me. My stunner of a girlfriend who I haven’t been close to in what feels like months, not days, is wriggling against me.
Her warm breath fans against my cheek. “No, Paddy O’Keefe,” she says, lust lining her words. “I’m just a girl who’s missing her man.” Her soft lips then slowly press to mine, her fingers sliding to cup my neck.
Our kiss starts off slow, moving in sync with each other, our timing perfectly attuned. When my fingers curl into the back of her hair and she groans into my mouth, I pull her body closer to me, feeling her lips quivering against mine in amusement.
Before I can lose myself in her, an intruder's cough has her pulling her mouth away.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
I clear my throat, hearing Esme.
“Brought you some tea. Thought you might need warming up, but I see Paddy’s got that covered.”
Morgan’s cheeks heat, and I smile when she looks back at me, looking for help.
I raise my brows. “Thank you,” I say, keeping my eyes on Morgan. “I’ll bring the mugs in when we’re done.”
Esme smiles, placing the mugs on the table, then leaves us in a hurry.
“Oh my God.” Morgan’s head slumps against my shoulder. “That was embarrassing.”
“It’s probably the most interesting thing that’s happened here all week, curly fries. She won’t be mad.”
“I didn’t tell you about poor old Mrs Peterson in room thirteen, did I?”
I laugh, seeing the amused horror in her eyes.
“Honestly, she was so lost, she took all her clothes off and was wandering around the hall at night.”
“You have a lock on your door, right?”
“Yes, Paddy, but that’s not the point.” She gives my arm a light slap. “Esme and a few of the other girls had to help her back into her nighty in the dark.”
The mental image has me shuddering. “Poor Esme.”
“Poor Mrs Peterson. It was cold.” She points both index fingers at me near her breasts, eyebrows raised.
I shudder, pulling Morgan closer to me. “Can you tell me about your day and not Mrs Peterson’s nipples?”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “You already know about my day.” Then she snuggles closer.
“I want to hear it again.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re still outside, both mugs of tea gone cold. The tips of my fingers tingle in the freezing air, but not wanting to move, I tuck them underneath Morgan’s blanket. “You’re shivering.”
She smiles against my neck where her face is buried. “Am not.” Her tone is soft. Dreamy.
My teeth chatter. What a day to choose not to wear a coat.
“Come on. We can go inside if you like.” She sits up straight on my lap, and the cold seeps into the small gap between us.
I look up, seeing the tip of her nose reddened by the cold. She must be freezing too, but she looks unbelievably at peace when she’s out here. “You love it out here, don’t you?”
She tightens her ponytail. “Reminds me of the oak tree.”
The shell of the apple tree we’re freezing our arses off under bears no resemblance to the old oak tree in Stoney Grange. I squint, trying to see what she sees.
“Okay, don’t hurt yourself,” she giggles. “I meant figuratively, not literally.”
“Oh.” I smile with a dismissive shake of my head like I knew what she meant all along. “Why?” I look up at the skinny branches that have shed their leaves for winter.
Musing to herself, Morgan gives me a glowing smile. “It reminds me of the first time I knew I loved you.” My heart skips a beat. “When you chased us after we caught you and Danny and the other boys by the tree. I sit out here when I’m missing you.” She stands, adjusting her blanket.
I know she’s out here all the time, and it breaks my heart knowing how lonely she feels once I’ve gone.
“Well,” I say, standing to my feet and rubbing my icicles for fingers together.
I blow into my hands, cupped around my mouth.
“You don’t have to miss me for much longer.
I spoke to the rehabilitation team leader, and after your next session with the psychiatrist, the social worker will be in touch with your parents to make sure everything’s in place at home.
” Taking her hand in mine, we start heading inside.
“You’re sure?” She’s hesitant to come home, but I can hear the hope in her voice that she won’t be here for much longer.
“Positive, curly fries.”
Squeezing my hand, her frozen fingers make me shiver. “Promise me if you insist on sitting out here, you’ll start wearing gloves?”
“Okay, Paddy O’Keefe,” she sings, humouring me as we make it to the door.
I love that she still calls me by my full name when we’re being serious.
Reaching room number seven, I follow Morgan inside and watch as she grabs her notebook off the bedside table.
“Will you bring me a new one tomorrow?”
“Already?” I say with a gasp, placing the mugs down and taking it out of her hand. “You didn’t waste your time filling this up.” I flick through the pages seeing her notes and scribbles.
“My head’s been busy.” She gives me a small smile as she sits on her bed and unwraps the blanket from around her shoulders.
“Shall I bring in the typewriter? Shove it under my jacket and sneak it in?”
“It’s a typewriter, Paddy, not illegal contraband.” She chuckles rolling her eyes at me. “But I’d like to see you try,” she adds joyfully.
My eyes widen. “Don’t doubt me, curly fries. I’ll do it.”
She laughs again, untucking the duvet on her bed. “I know you will. But a pad of paper will be just fine for now, thank you.” Morgan climbs up and into her bed.
“No problem.” Grabbing the cover, she lies down, and I pull it up for her. “New meds still taking a little getting used to?”
As if on cue, she yawns, gracefully covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “They make me so tired.”
I lean down and place a kiss on her head. “Then get some rest. I’ll call you in the morning.”
Her eyes are already shut. “Mm,” she hums, slowly drifting off.
I smile, landing another kiss on her head before I straighten and make my way to the door.
“Paddy?”
Turning slowly, I look back at my girl. “Yeah, curly fries?”
Her voice is hushed, blanketed in sleep when she speaks. “You’re my favourite person.”