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“Cheers,” Bren said, waving his hand in a salute which dribbled more blood along the floor.

“Watch it!”

Bren grunted in annoyance but re-wrapped his hand so the dry part of the towel could do its job.

“I don’t need an escort,” Bren said as Liam’s eyes locked on the blood-soaked towel.

“Tell that to Twomey,” he said, as if Bren might share his smile. “He was going on about health and safety and shit. Bit unsettling really.”

“Yeah? Tell him sorry I unsettled him when you get back,” Bren said and winced as the makeshift bandage shifted against his cut.

Their footfalls echoed in the deserted hallway. Bren’s head spun when they reached the stairs and Liam grabbed his arm.

“I’m fine—”

“Just shut up and lemme help,” Liam said and steadied Bren by the arm until they made it to the ground floor. If Bren had known he was going to slice his hand open, he would have had something more substantial than Red Bull for breakfast.

“You doing OK?” Liam asked when they turned the corner to the office.

“Grand,” Bren mumbled even as his head spun again. “Look, it’s the office. Go tell Twomey you did a good job.”

“You don’t gotta be a prick, mate.”

“Excuse me for being in a shite mood,” Bren said, lifting his hand for emphasis.

Liam looked like he was going to say something, but the look in Bren’s eyes made him shrug. He waited for Bren to open the door where the nurse glanced up.

“Oh dear,” she said, coming around the desk and gingerly peeling the tea towel away from Bren’s wound. “What happened?”

Bren winced.

“He cut it with a knife, Miss,” Liam said.

“Thank you, Mr. Flanery, I’ve got it from here,” she told him.

He nodded and headed back the way they’d come, no doubt grateful to be away from the dark cloud Bren was working hard to exude.

“That’s deeper than I can deal with here. I’ll take you to A&E while we try to get hold of your mam. You can sit in the back. I don’t want blood all over my dash.”

Bren shrugged to show it didn’t matter to him as long as he got to sit down soon.

“Would you like a painkiller?”

He shook his head, gritting his teeth.

“Sure,” she said. “Always be the hero, eh?”

***

Bren pushed the fridge door shut as he heard the crunching gravel in the driveway. He’d made the impulsive decision to ignore the few texts Mam had been able to send since he sliced his hand open and didn’t feel like he needed to give her any more ammo.

She’d been two towns over with a patient who needed home dialysis, so she hadn’t been able to make it to the hospital before Bren was discharged anyway. She’d been a nurse long enough that she knew half the staff at Macroom A&E though, so he couldn’t tell the difference.

She slung her jacket on one of the hooks behind the door and kicked off her shoes, letting out the sort of sigh that only came with miserable winter days like these.

“Hey,” Bren said, knowing from his first week back that continuing to ignore her would only make things worse.

She didn’t reply, just walked into the kitchen and set down the grease-stained paper bag she was holding. The smell of fried things and spices was fighting for dominance over an antiseptic reek when she pulled his phone from his hoodie’s pocket.