Redeeming 6 (Boys of Tommen, #4)

by Chloe Walsh

“Tadhg, hold up—” “I’ll be seeing ya,” he called out, offering me a half-assed sailor salute before disappearing over the wall.

My head didn’t seem to be working right anymore. Whatever the old man had done to me in the kitchen that evening had broken me. The cord that attached my heart to my head had been severed. It had been beaten out of me.

I couldn’t physically break the chains that shackled me to this house. To these children. To this woman. The only reprieve I would get was the one I took for myself.

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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 down her face, mirroring mine. “Remember this moment,” she added quietly. “Remember what I looked like the day you broke my heart.”

Hating myself with every fiber of my being, I let the beating heart in my chest lead me back to her. Back home.

She needs you, something deep down inside of me screamed. Wake the fuck up!

Wordlessly, she shifted her chair closer to mine and gently popped one earphone in my ear. It was something she had done every day since Easter break. We had settled into a strange routine, where every morning at school, Molloy would hand me an earphone, giving me a glimpse into how she felt that morning. One song at a time. One day at a time.

That’s all she gave me, and it became the song I got up for in the morning. It became the best part of my day. The part before everything got too heavy and the urge to shoot up got the better of me.

Every day I walked into class, right before my will buckled and I freewheeled into hell, and I sought her out. Still chasing after the girl from the wall. Still wanting her more than I wanted to live.

It was the small things she did, like continuing to wear the necklace I bought her. Or some days, she would be eating in class and then place her last Rolo on the desk in front of me.

“Do you s-still love m-me?” he asked, still trembling violently, and I could tell that he was coming down from an unmerciful high. I could also tell that when he crashed and burned, it would be horrendous. “Because I w-wouldn’t blame you if you d-didn’t.”

“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.”

“Hey, stud.” “Hey, queen.” “Nice shirt.” “Nice legs.” Her eyes widened in surprise. I winked. “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.”

I know that writing this down looks like I’m taking the coward’s way out, and you’re absolutely right. I am a coward, but then again, I’ve always been weak when it came to you.

Tell them I was sorry. Tell them I loved them. Tell my son that I loved him. Tell yourself that I loved you most. I’ll be seeing ya, Molloy. xx

“I’m the one saving 6.”

“All those years back when we were in first year.” His lips brushed mine once, twice. “I’ve loved you since then.” Another kiss. “From the first time I laid eyes on you, sitting on the wall with your blond hair blowing around your face.” His tongue snaked out, teasing mine. “I just didn’t know it then.”

“But you’re the only one,” he continued to tell me, voice low, pained, and urgent. “You were always the only one. My one. In the good times and the bad. I swear to Christ…”

“I love you, queen. Always have and always will.” He continued to break me down by whispering, “There was only ever you for me. Stone-cold sober or off my trolly, my head knows that.” Taking my hand in his, he pressed it to his chest before adding, “My heart knows that, too.”

“Please, Doc. She’s my best friend.”

Hating, on the other hand, did. I excelled at hating the world. Not just the world, but everyone in it. Except for her. Yeah, she was my only exception.

When I woke this morning, that scrapbook was the first thing I reached for. It was like my own personal comfort blanket, filled with six years of memories of Joey Lynch.

Every photograph, every perfect summer night, every horrible roaring screaming match, everything I was from the age of twelve to this exact moment involved Joey. Revolved around our relationship and the way he made me feel.

My eyes landed on a picture taken the night of my eighteenth birthday. I stared down at the two fresh-faced teenagers smiling back at me. It felt like a million years ago, but I remembered the mome...

“Ah, yes,” she mused, flicking through her notes. “Paul the prick, if I recall correctly.”

“I swear, that poor pony was wider vertically than she was long horizontally.” I blew out a breath and padded back to the desk. “So, yeah, I feel like that pony.”

“Maybe before they moved on, someone wanted to make sure his first love had a fighting chance with her first love.”

“Well, I love you, Joey Lynch,” I croaked out, wiping my cheeks with my free hand. “And apparently, I can’t stop.” “Thank fuck for that,” he replied. “Because apparently I can’t stop loving you, either, Aoife Molloy.”

“The heart wants what it wants, Molloy.”

“Because she is my family, Darren!” I roared, losing my cool. “How do you not get that? You’re a smart fella. Christ, you have a fancy education and a shiny college degree under your belt, so how can you be so fucking dense?”

“You will never understand how much I owe that girl. How much I fucking worship the ground she walks on!”

“It’s mine to live, and I plan on living it side by side with her. Because news flash, asshole, that girl is my life. Her and our baby. And if she wants a ring, she’ll get it. And a house, she’ll get that, too. And if the time comes where she wants more kids, then I’ll give them to her. Whatever she wants. Because we’re mirrors. Her and me. We’re aligned. That’s my future, Darren, and if you keep meddling in it, then you won’t be a part of it.”

Because they could talk about college degrees to me until the cows came home, but the only career I’d ever been interested in pursuing was under the bonnet of a car.

“Anything,” he replied gruffly. “You can have anything you want, baby.”

“Would you two shut the fuck up,” Joey snapped, flustered. “You’re scaring her.” “She’s scaring me!” Gibsie accused, reaching across the console to grab Johnny’s hand.

“His mam never looked more gorgeous than she does right now,” Joey corrected. “Six years ago today, I locked eyes on you for the first time, sitting on the wall outside of school, and now we’re sitting here with our son.” Smiling, he leaned in close and kissed me again. “Thanks for my baby, queen. You still take the air clean out of my lungs.”

“Actually, we decided to name our son after the man who raised the both of us,” I confirmed quietly. “Because, let’s face it, the only man I ever had to show me the way was your husband.”

“I’m in fucking awe of you, baby. What you just did? Giving me a son? Christ, Molloy, I’m punching so high right now it’s ridiculous.”

It was her. It always had been. It always would be. The girl from the wall.

“And because everything I have, everything I am, I owe to you.”

“So, where’s your other half?” “Claire-Bear? She’s in the year below us.” “No, asshole. Kav.” “Oh!” Gibsie laughed. “Oh, you mean my other other half. He’s in honors maths.”

“My it girl,” he purred, arms coming around her as he closed the space between their noses. “My everything girl.”

“Apparently, I have a thing for hitting you in the head with my balls.” “Yeah, well.” I waggled my brows teasingly. “You could aim lower next time.” “Is that so?” Johnny purred, leaning in to brush a kiss to my lips. “How low?” “My lips.” “Which lips?” “You choose.” “Fuck.” Johnny blew out an impressed breath and grinned.