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Our eyes met, green on green, and he winked at me from across the room. And just like that, I was ruined.
“He’s a free agent, and so am I.” “Like fuck we are.”
“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.
“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.”
“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.”
“Because I’m only doing life for you.”
“I need to not be near you right now, okay?” “Aoife.” “Because every time I look at you, all I can see is—” “Him,” he deadpanned, immediately releasing his hold on me. “Got it.”
“I’m not him,” I choked out, needing her to hear me, to fucking believe me. “I’m not, Aoife, I swear.”
“I’ve loved your daughter for six years,” Joey finally broke his silence by saying. “I can easily love her for another eighteen.”
“Are you going to marry her?” “If that’s what she wants.” “What do you want?” “Her.”
I love you too. More than this life.
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
