Saving 6 (Boys of Tommen #3)

by Chloe Walsh

This was who I was, and I had a horrible feeling that I couldn't be fixed or put back together again.

“Jesus,” I whispered, when he slumped down beside me. “You look like shit.” “Thanks,” he grumbled, dropping setting his elbows on our desk and dropping his head in his hands. “You look like dinner.” I flamed with heat at the compliment. “Thanks.”

“Don’t hate me for trying to move on,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around my waist, and burying her face in my chest. “I’m doing what I have to move past this.” A shaky breath escaped her. “Same as you.” “Yeah, Molloy.” Feeling my anger dissolve, I sighed heavily and dropped my chin to rest on her blonde hair. “I know.”

“If you s-say that m-my ass is f-fat, I’m g-going to s-scream.” “Your ass is perfect.”

Her big green eyes locked on mine, and I fucking hated the lonesome look in them.

hated him. I wanted to hate him so much. I needed to hate him. You need to stop loving him first…

Besides, it wasn’t fear for myself that I was feeling. I wasn’t afraid of Joey. No, I was afraid for him.

“This is the only time what’s ever stopped?” I croaked out, feeling my heart thunder wildly in my chest. “And don’t break what?” “My head,” he mumbled, before adding, “The quiet.”

In the end, the old man had gotten the better of me, but at least I’d gotten a few good punches in to make him pay for hurting my mother, who was still bleeding after the baby, for Christ’s sake.

The urge to get off was almost unbearable, leaving me with a raging hard-on, which was a problem because the girl who’d taken on the role of my personal chaperone was the one girl I couldn’t have. And I wanted to have her. I wanted to have her so fucking bad, it was painful.

Relief flooded his features when he swallowed my lie. “Well, I hear this partner of yours feels shit about the fight the two of you had.” “Does he now?” “Yeah.” Joey nodded. “He misses his friend.” My heart flipped. “He should miss her. She’s amazing.” He smirked. “He wants her back.” “She never left.” I swallowed deeply. “She just needed a time out.” “Good.” He nodded. “Because if she did leave, he wouldn’t like it.” “He wouldn’t?” “No.” His green eyes locked on mine from across the table. “He wouldn’t.” Exhaling a shaky breath, I reached across the table and laid my hand, palm up. “Nice moves.” He stared at my hand for a long beat before slowly placing his hand on top of mine. “Nice everything.”

“You okay, Joe?” my sister asked, reaching up to touch my shoulder. “You look sad.” “It’s okay.” I forced a smile. “Everything is going to be okay.” “Yeah?” I nodded. “Yeah, Shan.” Because I won’t ever leave you.

“I just told ya, boy. Are ya hard of hearing now, as well as thick stupid? He’s fucking dying,” Dad snapped. “The man’s nearly ninety. It can’t be that much of a surprise to ya,” he continued. “Your mother was trying to ring ya about it. If you want to see him, you’d want to go now before he kicks the bucket.”

The man who took on the role of raising my mother and aunt when his own daughter died, only to then have to take on the role of sheltering my mother’s children from the raging storm that was our father. He was the first man whose touch I didn’t fear. He was the man who taught me how to ride a bike. He was the man who took me to the cinema for the first time. He was the man who was never supposed to go anywhere because we needed him to stay right here and not fucking leave!

“Go in and see him, pet,” Nanny begged, squeezing my hands in hers. “He’s been asking for his little Joe.” A tremor racked through me. “I don’t think I can do it, Nan.” “You can,” she promised, reaching up with her small hand to stroke my cheek. “I promise.”

"Your birthday is on Christmas Day,” he whispered, breathing labored. "A holy day." “Yeah,” I agreed. “That’s me.” Winking down at him, I said, “You have the right grandson.” “My favorite grandson,” he wheezed, and then gave me a tiny smile. “My Joseph.”

"Your father wanted to name you Theodor after him,” he strangled out, breathing labored. “He said you were going to be just like him…” he paused to cough wheezily. "But you were no Teddy. You were Joseph." He coughed again. "So, I bribed him with a tenner for the pub, and called you what I wanted you to be called." He smiled up at me. "My Joseph. My brave, brave boy. Terrible burdens. A cursed cross to carry. But always rising from the ashes. Always getting back up. Always the… protector.”

“Don’t give in to them,” he rasped, holding onto my hand with strength I was surprised he was capable of. “Promise me that you’ll… never… give in to them.” “Give in to who, Granda?” I croaked out. Gasping and wheezing for air, he looked me right in the eyes, green eyes on green and whispered, “the demons your father put in your head.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Joey said, and then he flicked his surprised green eyes on me. “Molloy.” “Joey.” “You came.” “I did.” He stared hard at me for the longest moment before blowing out a ragged breath, and muttering the word, “Thanks.”

“Too old to be looking at a fourteen-year-old girl, that’s for sure,” Mam muttered, tutting. “Never-mind marrying the poor girl off to him, they should have thrown him behind bars for getting a child pregnant.”

"Because he hurt you," he replied, looking up at me with the most lonesome expression I’d ever seen. In this moment, Joey Lynch looked like the quintessential lost boy. “Because he put his hands on you."

Finally, after what felt like an age, I felt the tension slowly leave his shoulders, and then his arms came around my waist. “He hurt you,” he croaked out. “You don’t hit girls.”

She had our mother’s eyes and it made it hard to look at her sometimes.

She scrunched her nose up. “Not at all, I think tattoos are hideous; although, I have to admit that the Celtic crucifix on your back isn’t entirely terrible.” “Is that a compliment I hear?” I teased, elbowing her playfully. “Come on, you can say it. ‘Joey, my favorite, most amazing, most devastatingly good-looking brother, I love your tattoo’.” “Fine, it’s a nice tattoo.” Chuckling, she pushed me back and then hurried to catch up with me, her short legs slowing her down. “There, I said it. Are you happy now?”

It was at that exact moment my eyes landed on the leggy blonde leaning against the school entrance, with a grey beanie hat covering her ridiculously long hair, and a lollypop between her pursed lips. “Yeah, Shan.” I wasn’t convinced about happy endings, but when Molloy locked her eyes on me and smiled, I could believe in the possibility of a happy day.

Because the truth of the matter was that I enjoyed her company. I enjoyed being with her, be it arguing or messing around, flirting or fucking around town in the car her daddy bought for her. I felt genuine affection towards the girl, which was abhorrently abnormal on my behalf.

The Goo Goo Dolls blasted from her stereo. “Iris?” I cocked a brow. “Good song choice, Molloy, but I have to admit that I’m not feeling the festive vibe from it.” “No, asshole, not as a Christmas song,” she urged, cranking up the volume. “As our song.” I opened my mouth to respond, but she reached across the console and cover my lips with her hand. “Shh. Just humor me and listen, okay?” Reluctantly conceding to her demands, I nodded once, and kept my eyes locked on hers as the lyrics of the song fucked with my head. “Well?” she finally breathed, when the song ended. “It’s perfect, right?” “Yeah, Molloy.” My voice was thick as I wrestled with a million complicated fucking emotions. “It is.”

“You shouldn’t settle for comfortable, Molloy. You shouldn’t settle for anything less than being in love to the point of madness. The only person that you should be settling for is the person who unsettles you the most. The person who drives you to brink of suicide because he or she makes you feel so fucking much that you can’t catch your breath or remotely function without them. And what’s more is you won’t want to. You won’t want to breathe, or feel, or fucking function without them. That’s how you’ll know that it’s a real relationship, Molloy. Only when you’re feeling the most discomfort you’ve ever felt in your entire life, should you even consider settling. Because that’s when you’ll know you’re in love, which, sounds to me, like a hell of a lot nicer way to live than settling for someone you have nothing in common with because it’s comfortable.”

“I care.” Reaching out a hand, he grabbed the front of the hoodie I was wearing – his hoodie – and fisted the fabric as he pulled me back to him, our bodies flush together. “I care. I care. I care,” he repeated, eyes locked on mine, as his hand moved up from my hoodie to cup my neck. “Too much.” “See?” Blowing out a ragged breath, I sagged forward, letting my head fall against his chest. “That’s all I wanted to hear.” “I know, Molloy.” Resting his chin on my head, he sighed heavily. “I know.”

There was a whole host of things wrong with me. Things I was too scared to invest time in trying to figure out. Truth be told, my brain was a scary place to be, and I didn’t want to be anywhere near me most of the time.

Choices that had been made for me by people who were supposed to love me but either didn’t have the capacity to love me or just plain didn’t. I knew I was far from a saint, and I wasn’t blaming my wrongdoings on anyone other than yours truly. But fuck, things might have been different if I had been given a different start in life – a start like the prick standing in front me had been given, for example.

“What do you want me to do, Mam? Go around beating the shit out of her bullies? Because I can’t, Mam. They’re girls. I’m out of my fucking depth with this as much as she is.” Running a hand through my hair, I expelled a harsh breath. “I can’t keep fighting all of Shannon’s battles for her, and I can’t keep fighting all of yours, either.”

“Nice hoodie.” “Nah, just the one,” I shot back, returning her nudge. “And nice legs.” “I’m wearing jeans tonight.” “Not in my head.”

That’s my girl. “That’s the spirit.”

“Any more debauchery and your wings won’t take you up to heaven.” “Then I’ll just have to stay in hell with you, won’t I?”

“You’re my best friend,” she blurted out of left field. “But don’t tell Casey, because she’ll claw your eyes out for that title.” “I’m honored.” “You should be.” “Well, you’re mine, too,” I agreed with a chuckle. “But don’t tell Podge because…yeah, he won’t give a shit.” “So, we’re besties?” she asked, holding her pinkie finger up. “Fuck it.” I shrugged and hooked mine around hers. “Why not?” “Yay. Okay, okay,” she laughed, sinking down on the edge of the trampoline, bottle in hand.

“Oh, one thing I will say before I go.” Swinging around to glare at me, he added, “Thanks for getting her drunk for me.” I narrowed my eyes and his smile darkened. “It’s always easier to get her knickers off when she’s off her face from drink.”

would never hurt you, Molloy,” he slurred, his words a lot like his life, a broken mess. “I’d rather die than hurt you.”

“I thought I hurt you tonight,” he finally said, breaking the heavy silence between us. “When I woke up and saw you there? I thought I did something we couldn’t take back. I was so fucking relieved when you told me that we didn’t.” Exhaling a heavy sigh, he added, “But the way you’re looking at me right now makes me wish we had.” He shook his head and turned to walk away. “At least if we had, then I could understand the disappointed look in your eyes.”

It didn’t matter to me that she was fourteen now. In my eyes, she was still the tiny girl in pigtails who had followed me around for most of our childhood.

w-want to d-die,” she continued to cry, choking hard on her tears. “I w-want to n-not be h-here anymore.” “You can’t go dying on me,” I tried to coax, as terror filled my veins. “What would I do without you, huh?” “But I m-make everything w-worse f-for you,” she continued to cry. “You k-keep getting in f-fights trying to pr-protect and s-stick up f-for me. It’s n-not fair on y-you… always h-having to s-save me.” “That’s my job, Shan,” I said as I pried her ponytail from her small fist. “I’m your big brother. I will always stick up for you.” “I l-love you, J-Joe.” “I love you, too,” I whispered, wrapping her up in my arms. “I’m going to fix this, okay? I’ll make this right for you. I promise.”

“Oh, pack it in, the pair of you,” I snapped, annoyed with the entire situation. “You’re acting like he’s this terrible person when he’s not. He’s just…he was defending his sister who had been terrorized.”

"No," he strangled out, shaking from head to toe, as he physically strained his body away from me. "I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.” His words threw us both. “Hurt me?” I repeated and quickly shook my head. “All you’ve ever done is look out for me, Joey Lynch. You would never hurt me.” “I could,” he argued back, running a hand through his soaked hair. “I might.” Wide-eyed and chest heaving, he watched me warily, waiting for my reaction. Waiting for my rejection, I quickly realized. “That’s not going to happen.” With my eyes locked on his, and my heart hammering wildly in my chest, I forced myself not to flinch. Not to turn away at the sight of his bruised face, or the dark circles under his eyes, as I whispered, "Because you're not him."

Aoife Molloy consumed me to the point that I didn't feel like everything was completely fucked in the world anymore.

“Oh, you can bet your ass I will.” She glared at me. “He’s going to flip his lid.” “Bold of you to assume that I care,” I shot back, groaning internally when I couldn’t stop my mouth from verbally kicking my own ass.

“Have you seen your girl?” Joey taunted. “Of course, I was interested. In fact, I was very fucking interested. Still am.”

“Assault, eh?” He turned his gaze on Joey. “Did ya do it, boy?” “Sure did, daddy,” Joey sneered, as tension emanated from his body.

“Don’t worry,” she said in a soft tone, as she reached up and stroked her thumb over my cheekbone. “It’ll be safe with me, Joe.” “What will?” “Your trust.”

“I see you, Joey Lynch,” she continued to say, stroking her nose against mine. “Yeah,” I replied in a gruff tone. “I see you too, Molloy.”

“You need to run.” She shook her head. “I don’t run.” “Run,” I desperately urged. “Run, Molloy.” “I’m staying right here,” she whispered. “With you.” “Molloy.” “I know who you are,”