Taming 7 (Boys of Tommen, #5)

by Chloe Walsh

An orb of pure sunshine.

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.

I didn’t like Mark. I didn’t like his mean eyes, or his big hands, or how he was always scowling at us.

my bestest friend in the whole world. Gerard.

“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 don’t think my family thinks like that,” he said, turning back to look at the ground as we walked. “I think they wanted your dad to save Bethany.” “I didn’t,” I admitted honestly. “I wanted to keep you most of all.”

“I looked stupid.” “When?” “At mass.” “Why?” “Because I couldn’t read it,” he said quietly. “The prayer?” I asked, thinking back to the prayer Gerard read at the altar during mass. “I thought you were great.” “I couldn’t fucking read the words, Claire,” he choked out, tearful gray eyes locked on mine. “I made it up.”

“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.”

She was excellent. Lizzie was so excellent she could even spell the word excellent. She always got the super-work stars from Teacher in class.

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

“I’m really sorry about your dad, Gibsie,” Lizzie said when she reached their huddle. Not stopping until she was kneeling on the footpath in front of him, she wrapped her

arms around our friend and squeezed him tight. “And your sister, too.” “Thanks, Liz,” Gerard sniffled, hugging her back. “Oh, I brought this for you,” she added, reaching into the pocket of her skirt. “Sorry, it got bent in my pocket.” She placed a broken daisy on his lap before settling down on the footpath next to my brother. “It’s for the grave.”

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.

“But you play with Lizzie, too, Patrick,” I added. “So, does that mean you have the hots for her, too?” “I don’t know. Maybe sometimes,”

“I love you most of all.” I beamed up at him. “Even more than Hugh?”

“You can’t be my sister, Claire.” “Why not?”

“Because you can’t have the hots for your sister.” “You’ve got the hots for me?”

Sadhbh dumped Joe for Keith, and everyone knows it.” “Even Gerard?” “Especially Gibs.” “He never told me.” “Because he treats you like you’re made of glass.” “He does?” “Yup.” “Oh.”

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.”

“It makes my tummy wobble.” “Wobble?”

holding your hand makes me feel better.” “It does?” “Yeah.” He watched me cautiously. “Is that okay?” “Yep.” I beamed at him. “You can hold my hand forever.” “You promise?”

I’m drowning, Mam.

Make him stop.

No. Please. Stop him from saving me.

Because I would never be healed. It’s your fault she’s dead. I could feel his hands on my body.

Keep your eyes on ...

You deserve to be punished. “Keep trying, dammit!”

You deserve to be hurt. “One, two, three, four, five!” You deserve to be ruined. “Stand clear.” From the inside out.

“Open your eyes, Gerard.” Her touch was crushing my soul. “Come back to me…”

Relief. It flooded my body with such force that it eradicated every ounce of adrenaline that had been thrashing around inside of me, leaving me a broken mess in her arms. “Claire.” “I’ve got you.” When she put

I didn’t have to open my eyes to know that I had somehow managed to sleepwalk into her bedroom. Again. It was the only place my legs ever took me. It was the only place I could breathe.

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.

I’d slept in her bed almost every night since I was seven.

I was a firm believer in faking it until you made it. After all, I would be dead without the sentiment.

Unlike Lizzie, I had found a way to cope, and grieve, and protect myself without tearing strips out of others.

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 hu...

My mouth spurted shit at the expense of my own character, like a cloak of self-sabotaging protection. Nothing I said was for venomous or boasting purposes. It was for sheer protection. It was my safety net.

There was only one person in my life that still saw me as, well, me. 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.

“Come on, Gerard. Tell me what’s happening in that head of yours.” I couldn’t talk to her. I couldn’t talk to anyone.

The ugly side of life I had been exposed to was something I would take to the grave with me.

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.

In a weird way, that’s why I helped Aoife Molloy all those months ago. I would have helped her anyway, but the utter helplessness I saw in her eyes that night as she stared down the gun of love and pain, I knew there was something in her that I could relate to. I knew what it felt like to be that helpless, and I never wanted anyone to experience it. I saw

the look in her eyes. I knew that look. I only wished that someone could have stepped in and saved me from that pain. But money couldn’t soothe the pain of my past. From feeling that level of devastation and weakness. If giving the girl a ...

Christ, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to do all the things lads did with their girls. 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?