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“You’re due on,” I groaned, letting my head fall back. “Fuck my life.” “Come on, stud.” Reaching for my hand, she tugged me over to her bed and winked mischievously. “I’m sure we can be inventive.” “You know, sometimes I really…” I breathed, trailing after her. “Love my life.”
I was rooting for the siblings from Westmeath, while Joey was rooting for an aneurysm to put him out of his misery, or so he continued to tell me. Secretly, I think he liked the siblings, too.
“Spare me the cynicism, Kev. I’m eating nachos, not sucking his dick.” “Again, fine by me,” Joey interjected with a smirk.
“She has friends, Molloy,” he said then, sounding as close to content as ever I’d heard him. “An actual social life. She’s not hiding behind her bedroom door, listening to music and burying her nose in books. She’s going out.”
The epitome of fashion, regardless of the venue, she’d donned a light-blue tracksuit she liked to call her knockoff Juicy, whatever the fuck that meant, and a pair of black wellies.
“What were ya doing in John Kavanagh’s old doll’s pride and joy, boyo?” “Just, ah, getting a feel for it.”
Audibly laughed
“Casey,” I warned. “Don’t be looking at him like that.” “Like what?” She laughed, holding her hands up. “Like he’s the epitome of sex on legs? Because, news flash, Aoife, the boy is divine.”
My eyes quickly trailed down her body, taking in the sight of what she was wearing—or should I say the lack of what she was wearing. thigh highstockings, a frilly garter belt, lacey barely there thong, and matching bra all in the color of crimson greeted me on what was, by far, the man upstairs’ greatest creation.
I heaved out an impressed breath that had nothing to do with the price tag, while my dick grew hard enough to cut diamond. “Jesus Christ.” “Well?” she gushed, giving me—and half the street—another twirl. “What do you think, huh?” “There’s only one head doing the thinking for me now, Molloy, and it’s not the one on my shoulders.”
“So, you cook, you clean, you change nappies, you fix my car, you give me unlimited orgasms,” she teased. Stepping back, she snatched up her little Santa hat and slipped it into the pocket of her coat. “Keep this up, and I might just have to hang on to you, Joey Lynch.”
Sure, he was reckless and brash, stubborn and short-tempered, but he was also selfless and thoughtful, determined and dedicated. He was loyal to a fault, and even though he tried his very best to hide it from the world, my god, did he have a heart the size of the moon.
Paul pucked the sliotar in my direction, and I raised my hand to catch the ball midair, only to miss my target entirely when Molloy grabbed me in a precarious fucking spot. “That’s my ball, Joey Lynch,” she warned, squeezing my nuts just enough to let me know that she was capable of doing damage. “And so are these.”
“Put him on the phone,” I ordered, shuddering. “What?” Shannon asked. “Who?” “The lad who’s just a guy you know with a car.” “Why?” “Because I want to talk to him.” “Why do you want to talk to him?” I gave Tony a knowing look and said, “Because I want to talk to the fucker offering to take my baby sister home in his car, that’s why.” Tony nodded his approval.
If this hotshot fucker had taken time out of his rigid schedule to drive her home, then my baby sister had made more than just waves at Tommen. She’d summoned a goddamn tsunami.
“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do,” he replied, like it was something he was asked on the daily. “Home games only, though, and the tickets don’t go on sale to the public until May. Shouldn’t be a problem, though.” “Well?” I nodded. “Get fucking in there!” Beaming at me, Tony held both thumbs up. “I always knew you were worth the trouble.”
Smoothing out the page, I stared down at a picture of my sister with none other than Mister Rugby himself. “Well, shit,” I mused, reluctantly smiling at the sight of my baby sister tucked under the arm of the rising star of Irish rugby.
I could smell the bullshit a mile off every time she denied her very obvious feelings, and I smiled to myself as I listened to her ramble on about who I thought might be her very first crush.
“You’re not pregnant, are ya?” I joked, wrapping her up in my arms. “Could you imagine?” she joked back, still crying. “Fuck no.” I chuckled. “I think I’d rather open the door and lie down in the traffic.”
“It’s not my area of expertise, but surely they can give you a prescription for that.” “You think I need a prescription for mood swings?” “No, not a prescription, per se,” he hedged, climbing out of the car. “More like a light tranquilizer.”
“Meh. I’m an addict, you’re a bitch,” he mused, pulling me close. “No relationship is perfect.”
“I didn’t want to trouble you again.” She cringed, cheeks burning. “I feel like that’s all any of us do these days.” “Because I’m your brother,” he snapped, closing the space between them and tucking her under his arm. “That’s what I’m supposed to do.” I watched as both Shannon and Sean clung to Joey, a lot like I had earlier in the car. “You call and I come running,” he told them in a gruff tone, but his eyes were locked on mine as he spoke. “Every time.”
Tadhg, on the other hand, seemed to have the gene that had been passed down from our father in droves. Hurling came naturally to him and, when you watched him play, you knew you were looking at something special. At someone special.
“Shane.” With my chest heaving, I stared down at the bag of oxy in my hand. “I can’t.” “Tell you what,” he said, rising to his feet. “This one’s on me. If I don’t hear from you again, then no hard feelings.”
“Who you are? What you do? The knocks you’ve taken? The blows you continue to receive? How hard you love those kids? How much you sacrifice so that they don’t have to?” I shook my head. “It’s mind-blowing, Joe. Your selflessness is staggering.”
“Don’t be proud of me, Molloy,” he bit out. “Don’t be. Because I’m not better. I’m not cured.” He blew out an agitated breath. “I’m just…” “Trying?” “Yeah.” Shoulders slumping, he nodded slowly. “Trying.”
Alexa play this is me trying by Taylor Swift
The irrational fear he had about the authorities finding out the truth wasn’t so irrational after all. Because the Lynch children had been let down by both the state and their parents in all of the worst possible ways.
“You’re the hurler.” Johnny straightened his brick-shithouse shoulders. “Joey.” Smiling proudly to himself, he added, “Shannon like the river, and Joey the hurler.” Joey gave me a what-the-fuck look.
“A few cheeseburgers and a curry chips.” “How did it taste?” “Better than sex.” Joey snorted and muttered, “Clearly, he doesn’t have a clue about sex, if he’s willing to trade pussy for a burger,” under his breath.
“Oh, yeah.” I leaned close and whispered in Joey’s ear. “That big gorilla of a boy definitely wants in your baby sister.” “Jesus Christ, do you want me to crash the car?” Joey choked out with a shudder. “That is a hideous thing to say to me, baby!” “It’s true, though,” I mused. “Maybe they’ve already done the deed.” “Molloy.” “She’s so tiny, and he’s so big—” “Aoife!”
“A two-bed?” “Yeah.” I chuckled. “Somewhere for my sister and the boys to hide out. Otherwise, they’ll end up emotionally scarred from all of the wild sex we’ll be having.” “Okay.” She laughed. “So, we’re adopting your siblings now, are we?” “What can I say?” I grinned. “It’s a matter of buy one and get four free.”
Any other girl would have run for the hills the minute they felt the full weight of my excess baggage. Not Molloy, though.
Taking delight in my discomfort, my sister goaded and tormented me with notions of wedding rings and forever, making it perfectly clear that she was a solid fan of my girlfriend.
“What?” he huffed out defensively. “I can’t help it if I’m friendly.” “Well, I’m not.” “Not what?” “Friendly.” “Ah, I don’t know about that.” He laughed. “Given a bit of time to get to know each other, I think we could be the best of friends.” “That will never happen,” I warned, glaring at him.
Deciding to fuck with them a little further, I asked Lover Boy if he had a change of clothes she could borrow, and to watch a lad who pummeled grown men into the ground on a weekly basis turn bright red like that was fucking hilarious.
“It’s true,” he urged, eyes wide and full of sincerity. “We’re betrothed.” “Since when?” “Since she was four and I was six, and I promised her that I would marry her.”
He had some pair on him to say that to my face, and the only reason I wasn’t gunning for blood for the hideous fucking accusation was because his feelings for my sister were written all over his face.
“You can fix this?” “For her?” He nodded vehemently. “Absolutely.” “You like her.” I tilted my head to one side, studying him. “Maybe even more than like her.” He didn’t deny it. Good. Another tick for him.
I didn’t know what I wanted him to say, but calling the baby “it” made me feel physically sick.
The sheer volume of prepubescent, alpha-male attitude coming off Tadhg in waves was impressive, and if it wasn’t for the fact that I had a first-class honors degree in handling such a snarky little shithead, I might have felt overwhelmed.
“I’m a good dancer, huh?” Ollie asked, dragging me from my thoughts, as we bopped around the kitchen to the Bloodhound Gang’s “The Ballad of Chasey Lain”—courtesy of his older brother’s ridiculously explicit music collection. Yeah, I was a real stellar babysitter.
“This is Mammy’s music,” he explained proudly, switching up discs on the small kitchen stereo. “I love it.” A moment later, Loretta Lynn’s “The Pill” drifted from the speaker.
Grinning wolfishly, Tadhg hopped down from the table and sauntered over to the stereo to switch up discs. After spending a few minutes flicking through tracks, he settled on Bowling for Soup’s “Girl All the Bad Guys Want.” He gave me a cheeky wink and said, “This one’s for you, blondie.” Well, shit. I choked out a laugh. Little Alpha had moves.
We couldn’t live like this anymore. If something didn’t give, someone was going to die in that house. It would either be him or me.
Mam feared me. Shannon felt betrayed by me. Molloy couldn’t stand the sight of me. The only three women I had ever loved in my whole life, and I was letting them down left, right, and center. I couldn’t seem to do the right thing by anyone. You are such a fuckup, lad.
No good will come of this, my conscience urged. You’ll break her heart all over again. Remember last time? Remember her face? Your father already broke her, and you gave him the access, the demon hissed, do you want to sit with the visual of him spreading her legs open like a brood fucking mare, or do you want to forget everything bad you’ve ever seen, felt, and experienced? Because your conscience won’t do that for you. You know what will work, though. You can make it all go away. You don’t have to suffer like this. “I want to forget,” I strangled out, chest heaving, as I pulled up outside
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Don’t do this. My conscience reared its unwelcome head. All you have to do is just keep trying—one hour at a time, remember? You’ve got this.
“I’m saying that your life scares me, and maybe you were right when you told me that you were a bad idea for me.”
Choking out a huge sob, she cried, “So, yes, I’m mad at you, and maybe it’s irrational to feel it and my emotions are all misplaced, but I’m mad, and hurt, and I’m so fucking angry with you.” Her voice cracked, and she choked out another pained sob before admitting, “Because I was there tonight for you. Looking after your brothers for you. And because every horrible situation that I’ve found myself in this past year and a half has been for you. I keep getting hurt because I love you!”
I hurt her and she hurt me, it was what we seemed to do, but she couldn’t look at me now without seeing my father, and all I could see in this moment when I looked at her was my mother.
“Lynchy,” Shane acknowledged, cigarette balancing from his lips as he waited for me to explain my sudden reappearance. “I need somewhere to crash for a few days,” I heard myself say, forcing myself to meet his gaze.
Gonna cry brb
