Redeeming 6 (Boys of Tommen, #4)

by Chloe Walsh

“Him or us,” I bit out, teeth chattering from the pain clawing its way up my body that I was desperately trying to ignore. “Him or us, Mam.”

“I want you to know something,” I managed to say, fighting back the tears that were trying to fill my eyes. “I want you to know that I hate you right now more than I have ever hated him. I want you to know that you are no longer my mother—not that I ever had one of those to begin with.” “Please…” “No.” Sniffling back a sob, I shook my head and said, “From this moment on, you are dead to me. All of your shit? Handle it yourself. The next time he hits you, I won’t be there to shield you. The next time he drinks all the money, and you can’t feed the kids or get the electricity switched back on, find some other asshole to get cash from. The next time he throws you down the staircase or breaks your fucking arm in one of his whiskey tantrums, I’ll turn a blind eye just like you did right here in this kitchen.” “Joey.”

“From this day on, I won’t be there to protect you from him, just like you weren’t there to protect us.” “Don’t talk to your mother like that.” Climbing unsteadily to his feet, the prick attempted to threaten me. “You ungrateful little—” “Don’t even think about speaking to me, you scummy piece of shit,” I roared, unwilling to dance a tango with him another second. “I might share your blood, but that’s as far as it goes. You and me are done, old man. You can burn in hell for all I care. In fact, I sincerely hope you do.”

“You think you can talk to me like that?” he hissed, wiping the blood from his face. “You need to settle the fuck down, boy.” “You’re calling me ‘boy’?” I threw my head back and laughed humorlessly. “Me? The one who’s been raising your fucking kids for most of my life.” I gestured to the four children hiding behind me. “The one who’s been cleaning up both of your messes. Taking care of both of your responsibilities, picking up the slack for two worthless, piece-of-shit parents.” These were the very people who decided that I wouldn’t make a good father. Fucking hypocrites. “I might be only eighteen, but I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be.” “Don’t push your luck, Joey. I’m warning ya.” “Or fucking what?” I sneered, glaring back at him. “You’ll knock me around? Hit me? Kick me? Get your belt out? Take a hurley to my legs? Bust a bottle over my head? Terrorize me? Guess what? I’m not a scared little boy anymore, old man.” I shook my head in utter fucking contempt for the man. “I’m not a defenseless child, I’m not a scared teenage

girl, and I’m not your battered wife. So, whatever you do to me, I can promise you t...

You need to go. I want you gone. Get out of our lives. She was directing the words at my father, but I didn’t feel a thing. Because her words didn’t mean shit. It was too little, too late. The damage was done. The time to stand up to him had long since passed. Whatever move she made now was out of fear for herself, not fear for her kids.

“Of course, of course I choose you. Please don’t do this. Please, Joey. Don’t take my children.” “What good are you to them when you can’t keep them safe?” Every inch of my body shook and trembled as I fought against the desperate urge that I had to comfort her. I couldn’t do it again. Not this time. “You’re a fucking ghost in this house. You’re wallpaper, Mam. A mouse. You are not good for us.”

“Joey, wait, wait, please don’t do this.” Grabbing onto my hands, my mother dropped to her knees in front of me, and the move made me want to die. “Don’t take them from me.” “I can’t leave them here,” I choked out, feeling too much for her as my heart gunned in my chest. “And you’ve made your choice.” She had. Whether she denied it or not, she chose him. She would always choose him. But this time, I was choosing my siblings over her. “You don’t understand,” she wailed. “You don’t see.” “Then get up, Mam.” Tears filled my eyes, and it honestly felt like she stuck her hand through my chest and wrapped it around my heart. “Get up off your knees and walk out of this house with me.” “I can’t.” She shook her head, eyes pleading. “He’ll kill me.” He’ll kill them, too, I wanted to scream. What part of that didn’t she get? How the fuck could she justify keeping them in this house? This wasn’t love. This was sick. She was as sick as he was and I wanted no more part in this.

“Then die,” was all I...

“I know he’s my child.” “Then fucking act like it!” I hissed, narrowing my eyes in disgust. “Stop treating him like an afterthought. He’s not a fucking afterthought, okay? You can’t just show up here and lay down the law after not checking in on him once! It doesn’t work like that, and I won’t stand by and let you sink your twisted claws any deeper into him than

“No, Joe, she needs to hear this.” Swallowing down a scream, I blinked away my temper tears and pointed a finger at his mother. “He’s the best damn thing that came out of your marriage and you’re too stupid to see it. He’s not your bodyguard. He’s not your bank account. He’s not your babysitter. He’s not your fucking husband. He’s your child. He’s your son!” Furious, I turned my glare on his brother. “And as for you? Well, I don’t really know you that well yet, but I’m feeling like this is a fuck-you kind of moment. So, fuck you.” “Are you quite finished with your outburst?” the oldest Lynch asked calmly, arching a brow. “Because I’m not leaving until I speak to my brother in private.” “Then I guess we’re all staying,” I shot back, unyielding.

“It’s not that cut-and-dried, Darren,” I heard myself choke out. “He wasn’t born an addict. That’s not who he is. His issues with addiction are a direct result of spending eighteen years in this hellhole house, with those godawful people you both have the misfortune of calling your parents.”

“Don’t get even get me started on you, Marie. You don’t deserve to call him your son,” I snarled, swinging around to glare at his mother. “You have never deserved his love and you never will!” Blinking back my tears, I spat my pain out at the woman who had created so much turmoil in my boyfriend. “Everyone thinks your husband is the abusive parent, but I see what you do to your son.” I tapped my temple, beyond livid. “I know what you are, Marie. I see right fucking through you.”

“You’re a fucking joke,” I continued, pointing my finger at her. “You’ve spent years getting into Joey’s mind, twisting his thought process and fucking with his confidence. Convincing him that he’s the second coming of his father. That he’s dangerous, and a liability, and a disappointment!” “How dare you!” “Yeah, I know what you’ve done to him,” I sneered unapologetically. “And you can bury your head in the sand all you want, but you’re the mental abuser in this instance. You broke him, Marie. You have damaged Joey deeper with your words than his father ever has with his fists. You’re a gaslighting bitch!” “Like you can talk.” “All I have ever done is love your son.” “A little too much,” she erupted on me, hands clutching her head as she screamed. “You want to throw blame on who fucked up my son’s life, then you need look no further than the person staring back at you in the mirror! Because you’re the one destroying his future, Aoife. You’re the one saddling him with a baby he doesn’t even want!”

“No, I mean we both decided,” I countered, unwilling to back down or be bribed by this asshole. “And there’s absolutely nothing either of you can say to change that. You can’t pay me off or bribe me because I’m not going away.” “Then you’re going to ruin his life.” “Then at least he’ll be ruined with love and not pain.”

Don’t hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “My head’s in pieces. I can’t remember shit. I’m just so tired.” “Because you’re not well,” I strangled out, blinking back my tears. “You’re sick, Joe.” “I don’t know what I am,” I heard him say. “I don’t feel human anymore.”

“Joey, listen.” Sniffling, I cleared my throat and tried to be the voice of reason for him. “Yeah, you fucked up, okay? You screwed the hell up. You can’t go back, but you can go forward. You don’t have to stay in this headspace, baby. I can help you. We can get you some help.”

“The professional kind,” I offered. “They have rehabs for teens in your position. They have to. I’ll find one for you, okay? We’ll get you the help you need to beat this thing, but you need to come back to me. Just come back to me, baby, and I’ll help you…” “No one can help me, Molloy.” “That’s not true,” I argued vehemently. “You’ve got a beautiful mind, Joey Lynch, and a wonderful heart. You can beat this. You just have to want to. It’s half the battle. You can still fix this. You have time. You can get better. Just try, Joe. That’s all you have to do. Just try, baby. I love you so much. Watching you self-destruct like this is killing me.” “I only want you.” “And I only want you,” I choked out. “But I need you healthy. I won’t let you destroy yourself. We have a baby on the way, Joey. I won’t let you throw in the towel now.” “It’s too fucking late for me, Molloy.” “No.” I shook my head. “Don’t say that.” “I’m fucked in the head.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, demoralized and weary. “He’s also really unwell. Like, physically unwell. Everyone is looking at Shannon and I get it, I do, but what about Joe?” Shaking my head, I bit back a sob. “He could have died in the kitchen that day, too.” “I didn’t know that,” Gibsie replied quietly. “Because his entire family treats him like an afterthought,” I choked out. “And no, I don’t mean Shan and the little ones. I mean his mother and his brother and his…” Breaking off before I had a nervous breakdown, I sucked in several calming breaths before trying again. “I just need him to be okay, Gibs. I just…I need that boy.”

“I’m here for Joe because I know he’s fucked in the head right now,” Tadhg continued, taking another swig from his bottle of Coke. “I saw it in his eyes that day in the kitchen. I saw him check out. I know he’s not here anymore. Dad broke Shannon’s lungs, but he broke Joey’s mind and Mam helped him do it.” “He’s still here, Tadhg,” I croaked out, repressing a shiver at how accurately this boy had taken his brother’s measure. “No, he’s not,” the little guy challenged. “He’s gone and you know it, too.” He gave me a hard stare when he said, “But my brother can get better. I know he can, and you need to not give up on him.”

“Tadhg…” My breath caught in my throat, and I sucked in a shaky breath, wondering just how much he knew. He was turning twelve in a couple of days, and knowing that he had this level of intuition and awareness about his family was heartbreaking. “I’m not giving up on your brother.” Swallowing harshly, I offered him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I never will.” “He’s going to make it hard.” “Nothing worth having comes easy.” “And it’s going to get worse before it gets better.” “I’m well aware.” He watched me for a long beat, clearly taking my measure, before nodding his blond head. “Good. Because you won’t get better than him.” “I know.” “I mean it,” he pushed, tone defensive. “Joe’s the only parent I remember having, so trust me when I tell you that your kid…” He paused to gesture to my stomach before adding, “Is going to have one hell of a father.” I absorbed his words like an addict would crack cocaine because in this moment, whether he meant it or not, Tadhg Lynch was giving me everything I needed. He believed in his brother in the same way I did. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t yet a boy of twelve; the fact of the matter was that he got it. He saw the same person I did and was prepared to fight for him. It gave me hope. It gave me comfort.

“They’re going to try to force you out,” Tadhg said, standing up, seemingly done with our conversation. “Mam and Darren.” He gave me another hard look before saying, “Don’t let them. Don’t give up on my brother.” “Don’t worry,” I replied. “I won’t.”

“I’m your mother,” she sobbed, voice slurring. “Why do you hate me so much?” “I’m your son,” I replied, giving her back her words. “Why do you hate me so much?” “Because you’re him,” she slurred, twisting away from me.

“Yeah,” I deadpanned, standing up, feeling nothing. “I’m him, and you’re worse.”

“He’s always saving me,” she whispered, releasing her hold on me. “I wish I could do the same for him.”

“I need you to get back up, Joe.” Crying quietly, I pushed his hair off his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m

hanging in here, baby, doing the fighting for both of us, but I need you to climb back on your feet.” “I’m just so…tired.” “I know you are,” I agreed, feeling my soul crack. “But I need you to keep fighting.” “I’m no…good for…you.” “That’s not true.” “I don’t have feelings anymore.” “Yes, you do, Joe,” I whispered, clinging to his trembling body with mine. “You just need to remember who you are.” “I tried to warn you,” he slurred. “You didn’t hear me and now we’re both fucked.”

“Aoife, I’m sorry!” I called after her when she stormed off. “I can do this. I can take care of you and the baby—” “You can’t even take care of yourself!” She pulled her hood back up when the wind knocked it down. “You’re sick, Joe. You’re so sick and you can’t even see it.”

“You are a drug addict,” she cried out hoarsely as she swung around to glare at me. “You are killing yourself and you are killing me!” “No.” I shook my head, desperately refuting her words. “It’s going to be okay.” “Look at what’s happening to your life!” she all but screamed. “You’ve been kicked off the hurling team. You’re failing at school. You’re constantly off your head. You’ve lost yourself, Joe. You promised me that you’d stay, but you’re not here anymore. I bet you don’t even know what day it is.”

“It’s Thursday,” I choked out, trembling. “And I don’t give a fuck about school or the hurling team.” “What about me?” she sobbed. “What about our baby? Do you care about us?” “You’re all I care about,” I snapped, pushing my hair back. “Fuck, you’re all I’ve ever cared about, Molloy. You know that.” “Then fight, Joey Lynch,” she begged, fisting her hand in the front of my hoodie. “Fight this.” “I am.” “Liar,” she accused, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You’ve thrown in the towel. You’ve given the hell up, and we both know it.” “What do you want me to do?” I shot back, struggling to rein in my temper. “Jesus fucking Christ, Molloy, I am doing everything that’s been asked of me. Fucking everything!”

“The only thing I’m asking you to do is the one thing you point-blank refuse to do,” she argued hotly. “Get clean.” “Aoife—” “You don’t get it,” she screamed. “You can’t see how far you’ve fallen, Joey. I’ve had to beg and borrow to get you out of trouble with Shane Holland and those monsters, and you keep going back to them! I owe Gibsie money. I owe Podge money. I owe Casey money and she doesn’t ...

“I’m fine,” I bit out. “It’s all good.” When she didn’t respond, I gently tipped her chin upward, forcing her to look at me. “I love you.” “I used to think that was true,” she said, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “But I’m beginning to think that you don’t know what love means.” “Molloy—” “Look at my face, Joe,” she told me, and I did. Fuck, I did. “This is what hurting the person who loves you most in the world looks like.” She sniffled, tears dripping do...

“We’re going to make it, Joe,” I whispered, leaning down to press my lips to his. “You’re going to get better and we’re going to have a long and happy life together. I refuse to accept anything less.”

“Yeah, and you love that shit you inject into your veins more.” She batted my hand away. “I don’t want anything to do with that kind of love. Keep your love for the drugs.”

She shook her head. “I’m not like the rest of them, you know. I’m not ever going to give up on you.” Sniffling she added, “Remember that, Joe.”

“Just be with me,” he begged, dropping his head on my shoulder. “You don’t have do anything with me, I promise. I just…” He exhaled a ragged breath and said, “Just hold onto me, Molloy.” “Okay,” was all I could say in response, while my heart well and truly split down the center. “I’ll be with you, Joe.” Always.

“You’re…” she whispered, studying me with wary eyes. “You?” “No.” Resisting the urge to bow my head in shame, I held my ground and forced myself to keep eye contact. “But I’m…trying.” To give this girl what she needed. What she deserved. It was too much—her, the moment, my feelings, the way my heart beat for her—it was all too fucking much. And still, I remained completely motionless, letting her take her fill. “Joe.” Her fingers tightened around mine. “Joe.” “Just have to get through one hour at a time, right?” With tear-filled eyes, she nodded rapidly and gave me a pained smile. “Right.”

“No.” She shook her head. “One hour at a time, remember? You’ve got another hour in you, Joe.”

“When they give you the all clear, because they will give you the all clear, Molloy, I want you to go home and stay there. Don’t come looking for me, and don’t go fighting my battles, baby. I can do the fighting for the both of us.” “But—” “I’ll look after everything else, okay?” He exhaled a harsh breath and momentarily sagged against me before straightening back up. “All I need you to do is look after yourself and my kid.”

“You protected my son’s future, and now I’m here to protect yours,” he finally said, folding his arms across his chest. “Sounds like a fair trade if you ask me.”

“No, it’s not,” I protested with a shake of my head. “You don’t want me in your family. Trust me. But Shannon and the boys?” I shrugged again, filled with desperation. The prospect of getting my siblings out of the shitstorm of a life we’d been born into was dangling in front of me like a gold nugget. God knows I didn’t know these people, and I wasn’t even sure if I trusted them, but right then, in the state we were in, they could offer the kids a hell of a lot more than Mam could. “They deserve a better life than the one they’ve been dealt.” Swallowing roughly, I forced myself to say, “They deserve to have parents.” “From what I can tell, they’ve always had one,” John said, giving me a meaningful look. “You’ve been one hell of a father, Joey Lynch.” “Except that I’m not,” I croaked out. “I’m not their father, and I’m fucking tired of having to be.” There it was.

Admitted out loud. For what I thought might be the first time ever. “I can’t do it anymore,” I continued to spill my confessions, too weary and broken in the head to cover it up. “I can’t keep raising them in that environment. If someone doesn’t get them out of that house, they’re going to die or, worse, turn into me.” “When you say die…?” “I mean die,” I confirmed, feeling weirdly liberated having adults finally listen to my worries and take me seriously. “Our father’s not done with us and our mother’s not stable enough to protect us. If they stay in that house, they’re fucked, and I don’t want that for them. So, if… Fuck, I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but if you’re serious about fostering Shannon and the boys, then I won’t stand in your way.” I paused for a moment, trying to clear my thoughts, before warning, “But Darren will.”

“The way I see it, the younger kids are crying out for change. They don’t want to be in that house with our mother any more than I do. Problem is, they’ve

never been offered a safer alternative.” Until now. “All four of them will fold like a deck of cards,” I added. “If they’re told they can.”

“I’ll support your case. I’ll back you up with the social workers. I’ll give an honest statement to the authorities. I’ll lay all of my parents’ shit bare and expose them for the neglectful pieces of shit that they are, if it means those kids don’t end up like me, but if you fuck me over? If you hurt them…” Exhaling a shaky breath, I turned my glare on John Kavanagh. “If you even think about putting your hands on my siblings, it won’t matter how much money you have, or what

fancy law degrees line the walls of your office. I will come for you, and Jesus Christ himself won’t be able to save you.”

“When did it happen?” Edel asked once her husband had left the room. “When did what happen?” “When did you lose yourself?” “The day I was born.” Sadness filled her eyes. “And the drugs?” I stiffened. “I’m not blind, love,” she said in a gentle tone, inclining her head to where I had my sleeves rolled up to my elbows. “I don’t come from a sheltered home, either, which means that I know track marks when I see them.” Ashamed, I pushed my sleeves down and stared at the counter. “How long has it been since you last shot up?” I remained silent, knowing there was no right answer to this question. “A day? Two at the most?” Her voice was gentle and full of understanding when she asked, “Does your skin itch so

bad you want to tear yourself open? Has the cold gotten into your bones so deep you feel like you’ll never be warm again? What about the cold sweats and the nausea? Have you reached the stage where you would rather die than go without?” “I have it under control.” “Do you?” She sighed heavily. “Or does it have control of you?” “You don’t know me.” “What did it start with, love? Cannabis? Prescription medication? Benzos? Uppers? Hmm? How long did those keep you sated until you moved on to something stronger like coke or fentanyl? When did you take the plunge?” “What fucking difference does it make to you?” I spat out, feeling my hackles rise as I tried to defend the inexcusable. “I’m not hurting anyone.” “Joey love, you deserve a good life, too,” she pushed. “Everything I want for your Shannon and your brothers, I want for you as well.” “I’m eighteen.” “Love, it wouldn’t matter to me if you were eighty,” she said. “We would still want that for you.”

“Well, I don’t want that for me,” I argued. “I don’t want to be mothered, and I don’t need a father figure. I’m too old for that shit.” “You’re never too old to be loved, Joey.” “My childhood ended a long time ago.” ...