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don’t do friends,” I said coldly, sizing up each and every one of the overgrown bastards, with their designer clothes and expensive haircuts. “And I don’t do favors.” “Hey,” Alec huffed, folding his arms across his chest in outrage. “Thanks a fucking lot, friend. What am I? Dog shit?”
“Free sausage rolls?” I feigned excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say that earlier? I’m in.” His eyes widened in delight. “Really?” I rolled my eyes. “No, not really, you langer.”
“I’m trying to process here,” I mumbled pathetically around a mouthful of M&M’s. “God, is that so terrible?”
The fact that my sister was supposed to start school with these people on Monday morning didn’t exactly sit well with me. Especially the big blond fucker with a penchant for dope, debauchery, and his friend’s baby sister.
“You can’t seriously be considering going upstairs with him.” “Like you give a shit,” she said. “At least Pierce doesn’t act like I’m invisible when he’s with his friends.” “You know I give a shit,” he was quick to counter. “If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t—” “You wouldn’t what, Hugh?” she cut him off by hissing. “You wouldn’t treat me like an afterthought? Because, news flash, asshole, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.”
Shaking her head, she released another sigh before adding, “Which only proves that I’ve always been attracted to the worst kind of wrong for me.”
“Let me guess,” I interrupted, amused. “You’re fucking Biggs, and he won’t commit, so you’ve gone off with one of the lads on his team to get back at him?”
Either way, I’m no priest, so no need to offer your confession up to me. Not when I’ve done plenty worse than you.”
“You’d need a bishop to take my confession.”
“You’re honestly trying to tell me that those two aren’t in love?” “I never said they weren’t in love.” Chuckling, she added, “Only that they’re not together.”
“Listen here, you good-looking son of a bitch,”
While the rest of his friends had long since abandoned their girlfriends and dates, Gibsie hadn’t taken more than three steps away from Claire all night.
Our eyes met, green on green, and he winked at me from across the room. And just like that, I was ruined.
“What’s the saying, Joe? If you can’t beat them…” “Join them,” Alec cheered, drumming his hands on the counter at his back before quickly quietening down when he was met with a death glare from Joey. “Or not?”
“You can’t tell me what to do, Joe,” I growled, feeling a combination of drunk and dizzy. “You don’t own me.” “Well, that’s bad fucking luck on my account, because you sure as shit own me!” Drunk or not, his words hit me like a wrecking ball to the chest. Feeling the air whoosh from my lungs, I glared up at him, feeling a torrent of emotions crashing through me. “Why would you say that to me?” “Because it’s the truth.” “Since when?” “Since I was twelve.”
Because every part of me loved every part of her. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I fucking reveled in all of it.
It hit me square in the chest. “I know.” “Bad boy.” Her breath was laced with alcohol and so fucking warm on my face when she whispered, “Tell me you’re sorry.” I gave in without a fight, too weary and too damn in love to fight my feelings. “I’m sorry.” “How sorry?” “Very sorry.” “Good boy.” Her tongue was on my ear then, her body pressed flushed against mine. “Now, tell me you love me.” “I love you.”
Taking my hand in hers, she led me onto the dance floor, and like the habit of a lifetime, I followed after her, knowing that this girl was by far my greatest addiction.
“Stop trying to protect me and start making me happy,” she countered, eyes locked on mine. “Because it’s time to pick your poison, Joey Lynch.”
“There’s no decision to make,” he blew my mind by saying, green eyes blazing with heat. “You already know it’s you.”
“It’s you, Molloy.” He tipped my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “It’s you.” “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” “It’s you,” he repeated gruffly, fingers tightening on my waist. “I pick you. Every single time.”
“I’ll love you the right way this time,” he whispered, and his breath fanned my cheek. “If you’ll show me how.”
“What I did at Christmas? How far I went? It scared the shit out of me, and all I could think about was if I didn’t get you away from me, I would end up destroying my world, because that’s what you are to me, Aoife. You’re my whole goddamn world wrapped up in one girl. So, yeah, maybe I’ve gone about it entirely the wrong way, but all I’ve ever tried to do is protect you.”
“I’m not your mother or your sister. I’m not another girl who needs something from you. I’m the girl who wholeheartedly wants you. I’m the girl who wholeheartedly loves you. The hurler. The mechanic. The boy. The protector. The asshole. The lover. The addict.”
“All of your versions. All of your shapes and colors. I accept them all. So, I don’t care how fucked up in the head you get, or how bad of an idea you decide you are for me. If you can’t be with me, warts and all, then walk away now, because I won’t go through this again with you.”
“Molloy,” he growled, reaching up and pushing my thigh away from his head. “Spread these goddamn ladders for legs.”
“No!” I wailed in despair as the feeling I had been chasing quickly receded. “Why would you do that to me? Why would you stop?” He glared at me. “Ah, maybe because I require oxygen to breathe, and you’re choking the very fucking essence of my being out of me with your legs.”
“Look at those shakes,” I said, pointing to the very obvious tremor running through my legs. “I think you bambied me.”
“Come on, Bambi.” He chuckled, helping me to step back into my thong and then pulling the fabric up my thighs. “Let’s make you decent.”
Joey nodded his approval. “I saw this seriously expensive-looking bottle of champagne in the fridge.” “Yeah, I saw that, too.” “I’ve never tasted champagne before.” “Me neither,” I told him. “But I have a purse in the living room big enough to smuggle a bottle back to my place.” He stopped in the hallway and turned to face me. “Should we, though?” “Someone’s going to end up drinking it.” I shrugged. “Why shouldn’t it be us?” He studied my face for a long moment before making his decision. “Get your bag,” he instructed. “I’ll get the bottle.” “Already on it,” I replied, bumping his fist with
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“Molloy, I can assure you that you are insanely sexy.” “I am?” “Absolutely,” he replied and then choked out another laugh. “Especially when you have champagne bubbles coming out of your nose.” “Oh, fuck right off,” I snapped, grabbing a pillow from behind my back and smacking him over the head with it.
did the best I could with your hair,” he added. “But I’ve never washed hair as long as yours before, so if I screwed up, don’t hold it against me.” My heart squeezed. “You washed my hair?” “I sort of had to,” he replied. “You sprayed your ponytail with chunks, too.” “Oh god.” I pulled my damp hair over my shoulder and took a sniff, instantly recognizing the shampoo scent as the one he used. “That’s quite possibly the most romantically disgusting thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” I said instead, struggling to keep my emotions in check. “You don’t even realize how brave you are.” It was the truth. Where she saw weakness, I saw strength. Where she saw fear, I saw resilience.
Addiction was a consequence of being raised by street thugs and dealers, where the only substitute available for a mother’s love came in the form of a line of cocaine or, worse, a needle in the arm. Joey had somehow managed to survive his childhood and early teens by replacing the lack of his mother’s affection with the warm, enveloping embrace of ecstasy, and his father’s constant stream of mental gaslighting and physical abuse with the mind-numbing dexterity of opioids.
“You’re really sticking around, aren’t ya?” “Afraid so.” I smiled in the darkness. “For the ring. The white dress. The white picket fence. The whole nine yards.” “Jesus.” He chuckled. “Don’t push it.” “I always push it, Joe.” “Understatement of the century, Molloy.” “When we get engaged—” “We’re not getting engaged.” “I want a ring the size of my fist.” He snorted. “Good luck with that.” “And when we get married—” “We’re not getting married.”
“I want a big house in the country, with a huge four-poster bed and one of those giant flat-screen televisions hanging on the wall.” “And where am I going to find the money for that?” I beamed at him. “I thought you said we weren’t getting married.” “We’re not.” He turned to face me. “We can’t because I’ll be in prison for robbing a bank to pay for that fist-size ring you have your eye on.” “And when we have babies—” “We’re not having babies.” “They’ll be blond and green-eyed and just like their dad.” “You’re insane.” “I’m in love.”
“How can you compare a weighing scale to a Ouija board?” “Easy.” I shrugged. “They both summon demons.”
“She’s my intended,” he came right out and said, without a hint of embarrassment. “The fuck?” “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.”
So, if he planned on throwing down with me, he needed to be prepared to kill me because I would never stop getting back up. Not for my father. Not for him. Not for any other fucker on this planet.
As resentful as I had been about the pregnancy, that didn’t mean that I wouldn’t have loved him just the same as I loved the rest of them. My heart would have expanded, and my arms would have stretched that little bit further to fit him in.
“If you want money, you can make that for yourself,” Mam replied. “You don’t need a man to do that for you.”
“Joey is going to be okay, too,” she added. “You both are.” Mam gave me another one of those perceptive smiles. “Do you want to know how I know this?” “Pray tell, sensei.” “Because your baby’s father might be as pigheaded and stubborn as you are when it comes to admitting his feelings, but his heart has never once wandered from you, either.”
“Meaning that when you peel back all the layers of yours and Joey’s relationship, taking the flirting, raging hormones, and the physical aspect out of the equation, there’s a rock-solid foundation underneath,” she told me. “One that’s based on friendship, and respect, and trust.”
“I want you to love yourself enough to stop destroying yourself.”
And fuck if the depression wasn’t worse. Dying on the inside and burning on the outside, I stared down at the scars on my knuckles, and forced myself to pretend that I was fine. That none of this hurt. That I didn’t care.
“Nothing you said about Joey changed anything for me,” I heard myself say. “I know your son is worth loving, worth saving, even if the rest of the world can’t see it.” Even if he can’t see it himself. “I know who he is, Marie—the kind of man he is—and I know his worth, so you can rest assured that nothing you”—I
“Loving your son is effortless,” I cut her off by saying, pushing my damp hair out of my eyes. “It’s getting him to love himself that’s the hard part.”
“This hurts me, Joey.” Another pained groan escaped his lips. “No, no, no, I would never hurt you.” “You hurt yourself and that’s the same thing,” I choked out. “Because when you hurt, I hurt. When you burn, I go down in flames with you. We’re entwined, Joe. We’re mirrors. Don’t you get that by now?”
“I’ve fucked it again, Molloy.” “I’m not done with you, Joe,” I squeezed out, shivering. “And it’s okay. You’ll be okay.” “So will you, Molloy.” His arms tightened around my body, and even in his altered state of mind, he somehow managed to say the right thing. “Because I’ll look after the both of you.” My breath hitched. “You promise?” He nodded. “I promise.”
“You make me feel safe.” “Oh, Joe.” “I love you so fucking much it hurts.” “I know, baby. I love you, too.” “Don’t send me away again, Molloy.” “I won’t, Joe.” Her hand was on my hair again. “Shh, now. Just sleep it off, baby.”
