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“I don’t want fifty more girls,” I replied, twisting back to find her still watching me. “I just want that girl.”
Hearing Paul Rice tell half of the lads in our P.E. class about how Tony’s daughter was so tight he could barely get a finger inside her had caused me to flip the fuck out on him in the changing rooms. I did it for Tony because he wasn’t there to do it himself. At least, that’s what I continued to tell myself.
And with those words, my mother cut me deeper and more viciously than my father ever had. Ever could.
“I’m not afraid of loving a boy,” I told her honestly. “I’m afraid of losing myself in one.”
I’m not picking him over you, I’m picking me over you,”
She blew out a shaky breath and nodded. “Oh, I’ve been sold on you for a long time now, Joey Lynch.”
“Don’t hate me, Molloy,” Joey mumbled, falling into the passenger seat the moment I let him go to open the car door. “You’re all I have to wake up for in the morning.”
“Exactly. I’m not replacing you, Molloy.” I couldn’t. “I’m trying to fix me.” For you.
