Saving 6 (Boys of Tommen, #3)

by Chloe Walsh

“I don’t want fifty more girls,” I replied, twisting back to find her still watching me. “I just want that girl.”

She looked me over once more before nodding in approval. “You’re beautiful.” Well, shit. “Likewise.” “Hmm.” Her lips tipped up. “So, do you have a name, boy-who-can-think-for-himself?” “Does it matter?” I countered, needing to regain some ground I had lost to this powerhouse of a girl. “We both know that you’ll be calling me ‘baby’ by the end of the day.”

“Is that your way of telling me that you don’t have a boyfriend?” “No, it’s my way of telling you that I will have a boyfriend once you ask me.”

“You and Paul?” I offered. Tony’s brows rose. “Is that Paul the boyfriend?” “More like Paul the prick,” I scoffed. “Wow, Joey.” Her eyes narrowed on me once more. “I’m surprised you took your head out of your ass long enough to learn your classmates’ names.”

Love aiofe sm

“You know what? I think you do care,” she called after me. “In fact, I think you do like me. You like me and that’s why you act how you do. That’s why you riled my father up about Paul tonight. I’m right, aren’t I? You like me.” Of course I fucking liked her. She was the first thing my eyes had landed on when I walked through the entrance of Ballylaggin Community School last September, and the only face I consistently sought out since.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” I heard myself blurt out. “I know he’s a walking disaster, okay? I know he takes drugs and gets into fights, hangs out with all the wrong people, and can be a real dickhead like we’ve just witnessed.” “But?” Katie interjected with a teasing smile. “Just look at him, Katie.” Sighing heavily, I threw a hand up and gestured toward him. “Take a good look.” “Yeah,” she agreed quietly. “He’s sort of beautiful.” “More than sort of,” I corrected with a shiver. “But it’s more than that.” Chewing on my bottom lip, I tried to find the words to explain my feelings. “There’s just something about him that intrigues me. I don’t know what it is, but from the first day I saw him, I was just sort of…curious.”

“That’s why what?” I called after him. “That’s why you don’t like me?” “No,” he called over his shoulder as he walked away from me. “That’s why you shouldn’t want me to.” And then he was gone.

“Nonsense,” the elderly man croaked out. “My Joseph. You’re not Noel, Christian, Christopher, Klaus,” he continued to ramble, breathing ragged. “Not Casper, Gabriel, or any of the Christmas names they had in mind.” “Casper? Klaus?” Reaching up, I wiped my eyes with the back of my free hand. “Thank fuck for that.” “Because you’re Joseph,” he urged in a raspy voice, covering our joined hands with his other one. “You’re my Joseph.”

THATS WHY HES NAMED JOSEPH

“Loyal, kind, forgiving, fearless, nurturer, protector.” He smiled up at me. “Joseph acted… He took on a role.… He was the father of the lost.” I frowned, confused. “Granda, it’s me. Joey.” “I named you Joseph,” he whispered, swallowing hard now. “Did you know that?”

“Your father wanted to name you Theodor after him,” he replied. “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.”

This would break me

I thought as I shamelessly watched him work, taking in every tight muscle under his white T-shirt and the golden strip of skin he flashed when he stretched. His body truly was a sight to behold, considering by the time this summer had ended he had racked up almost as many tattoos as he had scars from fighting.

Aaayyyyooouuuu

Shrugging, I resisted the urge to tell her that the intricate hoops and swivels permanently etched on my forearm helped conceal the huge permanent scar our father had put there when he took a broken bottle to us last Christmas after too many whiskeys at the dinner table.

God

The Goo Goo Dolls blasted through the speakers. “‘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 explained, cranking up the volume. “As our song.”

IM DONE FOR

Blowing out a shaky breath, I thought about it for a while, trying to find a diplomatic way of saying “because if I have any chance of getting over you, I need to be with a boy who’s the complete opposite”

“Bullshit. Comfortable isn’t as good as it gets,” Joey challenged, narrowing his eyes. “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 the 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.

“You’re just afraid to admit it,” I argued, holding a finger up. “Because that means you’ll have to acknowledge the fact that there’s a girl sitting right in front of you who cares about you for no other reason than that she just does! A girl who isn’t depending on you to do anything for her other than be her friend! A girl who sees just how much of an asshole you can be but cares about you regardless, because I do, Joe. I absolutely fucking care, despite your shithead tendencies…hell, maybe even because of them.” I threw my hands up in resignation. “Who the hell knows anymore?”

That’s my girl.

“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.”

OH HELLLLL NO

“I would never hurt you, Molloy,” he slurred, his words a lot like his life, a broken mess. “I’d rather die than hurt you.” “Don’t say that.” “It’s the truth.” Releasing a pained groaned, he croaked out, “Only thing I’ve ever done right in my life is leave you alone.”

“You can’t blame a girl for wanting to take a ride on that bad boy.”

Hahaha

His words broke off when I kissed him.

“Don’t even think about stopping” came her flustered reply as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of my sweats and dragged me back to her. “I’m not shaking because I’m cold,” she growled, wrapping her legs around my waist. “I’m shaking because you’re making me horny, so stop talking and keep kissing me.”

“Like what you see?” “What?” She grinned shamelessly. “I always check the product before I make any purchases.” “And?” She blew out a shaky breath and nodded. “Oh, I’ve been sold on you for a long time now, Joey Lynch.”

Yeah, because the instant Joey Lynch reciprocated my kiss, my feelings, I knew there was no going back to pretending.

“Hmm?” Reaching up, she cupped the back of my neck. “Don’t look at you like you matter?” With a sharp tug, she dragged my face down to hers and pressed another hot kiss to my lips. “Because you do.” She kissed me again, harder this time. “You matter to me, Joey Lynch.” “I shouldn’t,” I choked out, forcing my body to remain rigid and not fold into her like a huge part of me wanted to.

“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,” she whispered against my lips, taking the lead when I physically couldn’t in the moment.

“The quintessential lost boy.” Her lips grazed mine as she spoke. “Don’t worry, Peter Pan, I’ll be your Wendy.”

“Ride it out, Molloy,”

YES

“You’re sort of a babe, Joey Lynch,” I teased a little while later, as I watched him climb out of my bed and slip on his gray school trousers. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Yeah,” Kev drawled, tone laced with sarcasm. “Let’s all raise a glass to the honorable Joey Lynch.”

There was a long stretch of silence before he slurred, “Molloy?” “What?” “Do you hate me?” No, I love you. “Go to sleep, Joey.”

“I’m not asking you to be a saint, Joey,” I hurried to say. “You’re right, I absolutely do know who you are, and I’m in, okay? I am all in with you. All I’m asking for in return is that you try to stay clean.”

“Please stay,” I whispered, hand snaking up to clutch the small silver chain he always wore around his neck as I slowly backed toward my bed, taking this beautiful boy with me.

Excited, I snatched up the box and flipped the lid open. Resting against the velvet padding interior was a tiny silver locket with the date 30.08.99 on the front. “That date…” I blew out a shaky breath. “It’s—” “The first day of first year,” he explained quietly. “The first time I laid eyes on you, and the first time I understood what it meant to have my heart beating for someone outside of my family.”

“When I say I don’t love you,” he continued, nuzzling his face in my neck, “it’s the furthest thing from the truth.” Love. He was talking about loving me.

“I’m in love with your son, Mrs. Lynch.”

“And you’ll never take anyone else’s,” I warned him. “That’s your lot, Lynch. Your first, last, and only virgin. You just signed your dick away in a blood oath, buddy.” “You’re so strange.” He threw his head back and laughed. “I love it.” “You mean you love me,” I teased, grinning up at him. “Yeah, Molloy.” His eyes burned with sincerity when he said, “That’s exactly what I mean.” Finally!

“I’m glad that I waited,” she whispered, curling her arm around my neck. “It meant more with you.” What was I supposed to say to that? We both knew I couldn’t say the same. Blowing out a breath, I went with the truth and said, “It never meant anything before you.” “Aw,” she teased. “You’re a sweet slut.” I grinned. “Thanks.”

“Wow, Joe.” She waggled her brows. “It kind of sounds like you might be in looooove!” “I am.” “Oh my god.” Her eyes bulged. “I was half expecting you to deny it.” “There’s no point.” I shrugged. “I love the girl. It is what it is.”

Shannon laughed and then asked, “So is Aoife the reason…” Clearing her throat, she said in a much quieter tone, “You decided to, ah, well, you know…” She cupped her hands around her mouth before whispering, “Not hang out with Shane Holland and those guys?” She’s certainly the reason I’ve become so good at hiding it. “Yeah, Shan,” I said, feeling like a piece of shit. “She is.”

Joey no

“I want you to know that you’ve been the best part of my day for every day since I was twelve years old.”

Tattoo this on my face

“So, do you have a name, boy-who-can-think-for-himself?” “Does it matter? We both know that you’ll be calling me baby by the end of the day.”

Also this

“I don’t love you,” I whispered brokenly into the phone. A tear trickled down my cheek, and I clenched my eyes shut. “I really, really don’t love you, asshole.”

According to Casey, the boys were fine, the drink was free, and she had every intention of snagging herself a fancy-pants, private-school-attending, built-like-a-brick-shithouse rugby-playing ride for the night. Good for her.

yeah good for her

The plain white T-shirt he had on revealed his tattooed arms and fit him in such a way that I could see the hint of black ink on his chest.

“For you!” he roared back, chest heaving as he mirrored my actions, throwing his hands up wildly. “For you, Molloy. For fucking you. Always you!” Frustrated, his hands clenched at his sides as he spat out, “I was willing to walk away because I knew that it was the best thing that I could do for you, not because I don’t love you!”

“I’m in love with you.” I didn’t care how weak or pathetic that I sounded in that moment as I continued to let my truth spill from my lips, as I bled open in front of him. “And I’m afraid for you, and I’m completely fucked up in the head because of you.” My throat hitched, and I exhaled a broken sob before forcing out, “And I have felt all of these things for you since I was twelve years old.”

“I couldn’t love you more if I tried, Joey Lynch,” I cried, giving up the fight against the tears that were flowing freely down my cheeks now. “I couldn’t.”

Someone dig my grave

Because Molloy didn’t know what it felt like to wake up every morning with a strong inclination to attempt suicide. She didn’t know how it felt to be a helpless child, half-starved from hunger, and even more starved for a way out of a home he wasn’t wanted in. She didn’t know what it felt like to be that hopeless kid who finally found something that helped him through the pain and sheer fucking misery that was his life. And she had no idea how quickly the shift in balance had happened for that kid, how it had snuck up on him so unexpectedly. She could never understand the excruciating self-loathing that came with realization that the one vice that had once helped that kid make it through the day had silently morphed into something he couldn’t make it through a day without. She would never understand how it felt to transition from controlling your life with something you once enjoyed to becoming controlled by the very thing you now despised.

“You want the words?” Roughly clearing my throat, I sucked in a sharp breath before saying, “Fine. I love you, Aoife Molloy.”