Saving 6 (Boys of Tommen, #3)

by Chloe Walsh

I was in love with an addict.

“Tell me when you’re sober,” I replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It won’t count tonight.”

“Why won’t it count, Molloy?”

“Because you won’t remember it,” I wh...

She was the only person I’d ever loved that hadn’t been produced from between my mother’s legs.

“If I don’t walk away from you now, I never will.”

I would never abandon them. If I could do nothing else, I would spare them that pain.

Because last year, as messed up and as blurred as the five-year-long precipice of our friendship had become, at least I still had him.

Because when I got drunk, I got sloppy, and when I got sloppy, I got high.

For leaving me on my own in this. For dropping the burden of responsibility on my shoulders when we should be sharing the load. For snatching my future away from me when he walked out the door.

“You’ve fucked up before and it hasn’t stopped you from doing it again.” Over and over again…

“Yeah, well, maybe this time when I fucked up, it cost me more than I was willing to lose.”

“What does tha...

“You know what it means,” he replied, running a hand ...

“Say it,” I demanded as we stood less than two feet apart, with him towering over...

“It cost me you.”

“Me?”

“...

“Because I was trying to do the right thing,” he snarled, losing his cool right back with me. “Fuck!”

“For who?”

“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 ...

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

“I love you,” I reiterated, eyes locked on hers as I brushed away a tear from her cheek. “I love you more than I have ever loved another person in my life, and that’s not an exaggeration. That’s the god-honest truth.”

“You’re not supposed to tell me that you love me after we’ve broken up,” she cried, burying her face in my chest. “You were supposed to say it when we were still together.”

“Before, during, after.” I shrugged helplessly. “It still stands.”

“And we’re going to see each other at school, and it’s not going to be fucked up and awkward because we both remember that before we were us, we were…”

“Us,” she filled in softly.

“Exactly. I’m not replacing you, Molloy.” I couldn’t. “I’m trying...