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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…
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.
My daddy got Gerard out of the water. He jumped in and rescued him. With his suit and shoes on. And his socks. My daddy was a hero. That’s what the neighbors said.
“I’m glad it’s not you in the box,” I whispered in his ear, leaning close enough so that only Gerard could hear me. “You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world, and I would swap everyone for you. Even Hugh.”
“I promised God I would do all the good things in the world if he brought you back.” I beamed at him. “And he listened.” “That wasn’t God, Claire,” he whispered, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “That was your dad.” “I don’t care who it was,” I replied. “Just as long as you’re here.”
“That’s okay, Gerard.” I smiled extra hard to make him feel better. “I thought you were the bestest.”
“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,” she laughed before skipping off in the direction of the boys. “Or maybe it’s your shampoo.”
“Hey, Gerard?” “Yeah, Claire?”
“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.”
“You’ve got the hots for me?” My tummy flipped like a pancake again.
“I don’t see anyone.” His lips tipped up in the smallest of smiles before he added, “Except for you.”
“That’s super sad.” “Quit saying the word ‘super’ all the time, Claire.” “I like the word ‘super,’” I protested. “I can even spell it.”
“No, you’re not,” I whispered back, using my free hand to wipe a super big tear off my cheek. “You’ve got Sadhbh, and Keith, and Mark—” “I hate him,” he interrupted with a sharp hiss. “Who? Keith?” He nodded stiffly. “And n-not just him.” “Mark, too?” Sniffling, he swallowed deeply before saying, “I don’t like the way he looks at me.” My eyes widened. “He looks bad at you?” “He looks evil at me,” he explained. “Like he wants to hurt me.” Anger grew in my belly. “Hurt you?” He nodded again. “Maybe even kill me.” “Well, I will kick him in his willy if he hurts you,” I growled. “I know how to do
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“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.” “Wobble?” “Uh-huh.” Nodding eagerly, I snickered when it happened again. “Like jiggly jelly.”
“Yep.” I beamed at him. “You can hold my hand forever.”
No. Please. Stop him from saving me. Because I would never be healed. It’s your fault she’s dead.
Please let me go. It was building up in my chest. I want my dad. Clawing at my throat. Don’t make me let go of his hand.
Thud. Thud. I couldn’t breathe. Yes, you can. You’re breathing just fine, asshole. It was a nightmare. It wasn’t real. But it was.
“It’s me. You’re safe.” My hands were reaching for her. “I’ve got you.” But I couldn’t see a thing. “Shh, baby, I’ve got you.”
Relief.
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.
Only one person who refused to let go of the version of me from the past. The girl with her arms around me. My girl.
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.
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.
After the accident, once I learned how fickle life could be, how quickly a person you loved could be snatched away, it caused the feelings I had for Claire to deepen rapidly, growing wilder and stronger with every day that passed, spreading in intricate, permanent patterns around my heart like ivy.
okay this man is a poet
The girl was everything to me, and that wasn’t me being dramatic. It was a fact. The thought of letting her down made me feel physically sick. The thought of any form of harm coming to her, be it emotional or physical, made me feel homicidal.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
I need this
I would never cause harm to Claire Biggs. She was too important to me. She was everything to me.
just why, like I need a man like Gibsie
I wanted the future I joked about with her. I wanted everything with her. Problem was, I didn’t trust the person I was.
That I could love her the right way. Because I loved this girl. With every fiber of my being. With every beat of my poor defective heart. I loved her fiercely, solely, wholeheartedly. I had so many physical urges directed solely toward her, but there were no guarantees in life, and I couldn’t risk it.
“It was like you were trying to fight me and run to me all in one breath.”
“Night, Gerard… Love you.” “I love you, too,” I whispered, feeling the familiar jolt of adrenaline rocket through my veins when those words spilled from her lips.
If I knew nothing else in this world, then I knew that I loved Claire Biggs. More than she could ever know. More than one lousy four-letter word could ever depict.
“Snuggling my Claire-Bear equals a happy Gibsie. Running laps on the treadmill until I puke equals a very unhappy Gibsie.” The feel of his big body pressed to mine set loose what felt like a cage of wild butterflies in my chest. “It’s all about priorities, babe.” “And I’m yours?” I teased. “Always,” he confirmed sleepily, tightening his hold on my waist.
“Stay with me,” in my ear. Oh god.
Finding Gerard in my bed wasn’t a new thing for us. In fact, in the past decade there was only a handful of nights he hadn’t slept over.
Gibsie belonged to the rest of the world. Gerard belonged just to me.
“Clearly,” came Hugh’s sarcastic response. “You two are just friends and Bella’s the Virgin Mary.” “Bella’s a… 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.” “Fugly slut,” he chuckled, repeating the word to himself. “I love it.”
“See you later, baby daddy.”
“Yeah, but you’re not just friends with Gibs,” he argued. “You’re in love with him.” “So?”
But his warning would fall on deaf ears because I had a Gerard Gibson–sized blind spot on my heart.
“I’ve already paid for that, Keith.” “I don’t remember agreeing to him being ungrounded, Sadhbh.” “I don’t remember your name being on my birth certificate.”
“Little Shannon, huh?” I grinned. “What a number she did on your heart, lad.” “Tell me about it.”
The sky was blue outside. The birds were out. The sun was shining. It was another blissful morning. And I wanted to scream.
I didn’t know the correct terminology for such feminine creations, but having messed around in her room enough times, I knew it to be a tricky bastard, with a surprisingly forceful sting if it clamped your skin.
“You are fantastic.” “You’re a dope.”
“You ruined her petunias,” Claire reminded me with a mischievous grin. My mouth fell open in outrage. “That was you!” “Nuh-uh.” She patted my thigh. “Not according to our parents.”
“I only have eyes for one blond.”
“This is entirely inappropriate behavior.” “Duly noted. Should we continue?” “Of course.”
