Taming 7 (Boys of Tommen, #5)

by Chloe Walsh

Moments before the pain in my lungs exploded and everything went dark, I saw it. A halo of light. An orb of pure sunshine. Her. I saw her. And that’s when I knew. That’s when I knew…

I looked at the coffins. That’s what Hugh called the boxes near the altar. There was a big brown one and a small white one. Hugh said that Gerard’s daddy, Joe, was in the big brown one and his sister, Bethany, was in the little white one. Because they drowned last Saturday.

Joe was his bestest friend in the whole world, and he was in the brown coffin, but Gerard was my bestest friend in the whole wide world, and I was happy because he didn’t get drowned with Joe and Bethany.

I KNOW SHE'S FIVE BUT HOLY SHIT CLAIRE

“You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world, and I would swap everyone for you. Even Hugh.”

“When they said someone had been saved from the water. I prayed for it to be you.”

“I think they wanted your dad to save Bethany.” “I didn’t,” I admitted honestly. “I wanted to keep you most of all.”

“She’s scared of the dark.” “Bethany?” “Yeah.” “It’s okay, though, because your daddy is with her, so he’ll keep her safe.” “What about me?” he whispered as a lone tear trickled down his cheek. “Who’ll keep me safe?” “I will, silly,” I replied, releasing his hand so that I could give him a hug. “I’ll keep you safe, Gerard.”

“But your hugs feel like sunshine.” “Like sunshine?” I frowned in confusion. “How?” “Because you are sunshine, silly,”

A hot, angry feeling stabbed my belly. It always happened when Liz and Hugh were together. She was supposed to be my friend, but she always played with my brother when she came over, and I didn’t like it.

“I would never leave you, Gerard.” “That’s what my dad said.” He sucked in a shaky breath and clenched his eyes shut before whispering, “So just…please don’t go, okay?”

“I mean it,” he urged, turning to look at me now. “I can’t lose another person I love.” “You love me?” He nodded sadly as another tear trickled down his cheek. “I love you most of all.”

“I don’t see anyone.” His lips tipped up in the smallest of smiles before he added, “Except for you.”

“I’m drowning.” “You’re drowning?” Yelping out a startled cry, I sprang to my feet and pulled him with me. “It’s okay, Gerard. You just have to open your mouth and let the air go in.” “I c-can’t!” “You can’t?” “N-no…” All hell broke loose after that. “What’s happening to him?” “He’s having a panic attack.” “Gibs?” “Gerard, sweetheart, it’s me, Sinead. Can you hear me?” “I can’t breathe!” “Help him!” “No, don’t l-let g-go of my h-hand!” “I won’t, Gerard.”

“I like your face when you do that,” I told him, reaching up to touch the hole that appeared in his cheek when he smiled. “Do what?” “Smile,” I explained. “It makes my tummy wobble.”

Why can’t you see me? Death would be better than this. It hurts. I was already dying on the inside. Make it stop. My insides were already ruined. Make him stop.

Claire Biggs had a lot of things. My back. My attention. My heart. My soul. Yeah, she had all of me and that wasn’t an exaggeration.

She was the nicotine I couldn’t walk away from. The crutch I hadn’t learned to walk without.

Why be fucked-up Gerard when I could be Gibsie the fuckup? It couldn’t hurt when I was Gibsie, because Gibsie was my armor, and humor was my sword.

If I could sew this girl to my skin without causing her an ounce of harm, then I would do it in a heartbeat. That’s how vital she was to my life. How essential she was to my existence. If drugs were to Joey Lynch what Claire Biggs was to me, then there was no amount of rehab that could sway me to kick the habit. Because she was the habit of my lifetime.

I wanted to make her mine, but what if I was wrong? Not us as a couple, but me as a man? What if it didn’t work? What if I didn’t work? Because I didn’t feel things with girls. I never felt anything. I was numb to the point of being dead, and if I didn’t feel things with Claire, then it would confirm that my past had truly broken me beyond repair.

From as far back as I could remember, my mind had always been very clear about three things. One: Hugh was my brother. Two: Bethany was my sister. Three: Claire was mine.

Claire meant it when she told me that she loved me. That was the first of two things in life I was sure of, and I meant it right back. That was the second thing I was sure of. If I knew nothing else in this world, then I knew that I loved Claire Biggs.

“Brian’s a cat.” “So?” “So, this is a dog show.” “Nowhere in the rule books does it state that we have to enter a dog.” “I think because it’s alluded to in the title ‘dog show,’ Gerard.”

Brian might be a bastard, but he’s a beautiful one.”

“Snuggling my Claire-Bear equals a happy Gibsie. Running laps on the treadmill until I puke equals a very unhappy Gibsie.”

Gibsie belonged to the rest of the world. Gerard belonged just to me.

Is that why only she calls him Gerard?

“I swear to Christ, lad, if you put so much as a finger on her, I will legit kill you dead this time.” “On her or in her?”

What’s the word those girls in pink use in the film, babe?” Gerard asked, twirling a finger around aimlessly. “An ugly clit?” “A fugly slut, Gerard,” I corrected with a smile. “But full marks for attempting a Mean Girls reference.”

“I don’t go in your room when your precious Katie is here, so you don’t get to come into mine.” “There’s a big goddamn difference in that equation, Claire,” Hugh shot back. “Katie’s a saint and he’s a whore.”

“I don’t cook fish, Hugh, I bake buns,” Gerard shot back with a wink. “In ovens.”

“Gibs, you’re the definition of a fuckboy,” Hugh argued back. “People look up the word in the dictionary and find your face!”

“I’m as pure as the driven snow.” “Yeah,” Hugh grumbled sarcastically. “The snow outside a whorehouse.”

“Why encourage the crazy?” “Because I love his crazy.”

“Two words, Claire,” he shot back. “Joey and Aoife.” “That’s three words.”

Don't diss the young parents

“Why would I get hurt?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest. “Because he’s fucked in the head.”

I’m not your son, asshole,

Holding hands? At their age. Puke.

“Considering he’s rambling home at seven o’clock in the morning after spending the night at the neighbors like a whoring tomcat.” “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Keith?” I shot back, unable to stop myself. “Whoring around other people’s houses?”

And you need to take a long walk off a short cliff, asshole.

“Still taking my pill a day to keep the voices away.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to him being ungrounded, Sadhbh.” “I don’t remember your name being on my birth certificate.”

Hahaha

Maybe I’ll follow in my good old stepdaddy’s shoes and hook up with a wealthy man’s wife? Because that sure as shit seems to have turned out well for you.

This house didn’t belong to Keith. It didn’t even belong to Mam. Nor did the bakery. The name Gibson was on the deeds of every financial asset in my mother’s possession, not Allen. This was my father’s house.

But I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken a bath. It must have been before that day. I’d definitely been joined by Batman and my Teenage Turtles figurines. Come to think about it, where did Raphael ever go?

Cowa-fucking-bunga.

“It’s all good, though. Some of the best things in life aren’t meant to last forever. That’s why we cherish them when they happen. Like your favorite chocolate in a box. Or shooting stars. We don’t refuse to eat the sweet because once we do, it’ll be gone, or stop looking at the stars after one shoots by. We enjoy the moment because we know it’s worth living in.”

“What’s that saying for the word ‘fine,’ babe?” “Fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional.”

“We can’t all be poster boys for Prozac, Gibs.”

“I have it,” Gerard announced, holding a hand up. “They are fucking with feelings!”

“I fuck myself with feelings all the time,” Gerard offered up. “It’s nice.”