Drunk on vodka and regret, I kept my hands clamped on her hips, feeling her curvy body press against mine as she ground her hips against me, while the melancholy sound of LIVE’s “Lightning Crashes” drifted around us. As my brain processed the lyrics, a horrible weighted energy settled on my shoulders. “What’s wrong?” Molloy asked, instantly noticing my discomfort. “Nothing.” “Joe?” “I just…” I shook my head again and blew out a pained breath. “It’s the song.” “What about it?” “Reminds me of her.” “Who?” Her green eyes softened. “Your mam?”
