“You get me what he owes, and we’ll talk,” Shane replied, eyes dancing with amusement.
I knew I was being played.
I knew these men had no intention of following my wishes, but what could I do? Walk away knowing what they had planned for my boyfriend?
Never.
Trembling when I reached my car, I sank into the driver’s seat and locked all the doors, while I waited for my recently acquired pal to pick up.
“You rang, Mrs. Joey the hurler?”
“Gibsie?” Pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead, I exhaled a ragged breath. “I need a favor.”
A little while later, a silver Ford Focus parked up behind my car. With bated breath, I watched from the rearview mirror as Gibsie climbed out of his car and walked to the passenger side of mine.
“I know I have no right to ask you for anything,” I blurted out the minute he climbed into the passenger seat beside me. “We barely know each other, and you’re probably thinking that I’m some sort of crazy person for showing up on your doorstep earlier, and for phoning you, but I’m so damn desperate and he’s—”
“You said six hundred?” Gibsie cut me off by asking, as he retrieved a wad of cash from his coat pocket and placed it on my lap. “It’s all there.”
“Thank you.” Shoulders slumping in both guilt and relief, I nodded wearily. “Seriously, thank you so damn much, Gibsie. I know it was a lot to ask of you, and I promise you that I will pay you back every cent. It might take me a while, but I will get it all back to you with interest—”
“Relax, I don’t care about the money,” he cut me off and said, turning in his seat to face me. “It’s yours. No strings attached.”
“No, I can’t,” I hurried to protest. “I’ll pay you back, I swear.”
“You can try, but I won’t take it,” he replied calmly. “The fact that you needed it badly enough to come to me in the first place is the scary part.” He stared at me for a long moment before saying, “Lynchy’s in deep, isn’t he?”
I debated lying to him, but how the hell could I?
Whether he realized it or not, this boy had unintentionally spared my boyfriend another hospitalization.
Or worse, an early grave.
“So deep, Gibs,” I squeezed out, heart racing wildly. “And I’m trying…” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’m trying so hard to save him, but it’s just getting harder and harder.”
“How bad are we talking?”
“It’s heroin,” I choked out, quickly batting a rogue tear from my cheek. “And oxy, and coke, and pretty much anything he can snort up his nose or inject in his veins.”
“And the money?”
“For his dealer,” I admitted, pressing my temples. “If I don’t pay up, he’ll make Joe work it off or worse.”
Gibsie blew out a harsh breath. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, demoralized and weary. “He’s also really unwell. Like, physically unwell. Everyone is looking at Shannon and I get it, I do, but what about Joe?” Shaking my head, I bit back a sob. “He could have died in the kitchen that day, too.”
“I didn’t know that,” Gibsie replied quietly.
“Because his entire family treats him like an afterthought,” I choked out. “And no, I don’t mean Shan and the little ones. I mean his mother and his brother and his…” Breaking off before I had a nervous breakdown, I sucked in several calming breaths before trying again. “I just need him to be okay, Gibs. I just… I need that boy.”
“Because you’ve got a bun in the oven?”
“What?” I stilled, frowning. “How did you—”
“Don’t worry, I can keep secrets, too,” he surprised me by saying. “Word of advice, though. I would start doubling up on those oversized hoodies if you don’t want people catching on, because, and I mean this in the kindest of ways, you’re blooming.”
“Oh fuck.”
“I’m guessing Shannon doesn’t know?” he mused. “Which means Johnny doesn’t know, because if Johnny knew, I would know.”
“No, and you can’t tell them yet because—”
“Like I said, I can keep a secret,” he offered with a wink. “I’ve got your back, Mrs. Joey the hurler.”
MRS. KAVANAGH
JOEY
I wasn’t sure how I made it back to Johnny’s house in the dark, but I must have, because when I woke up the following morning, it was to the sight of the rim of a porcelain toilet bowl. There was also the sound of a woman losing her shit on the other side of the door.
Feeling a small bit more together than I had the day before, I climbed to my feet and quickly checked the bathroom for damage. Relieved to find none, I decided to bite the bullet and step outside, needing to get my ass out of Mister Rugby’s manor and back to the mother of my child without delay.
Disgust didn’t come close to explain how I was feeling about myself.
Hatred wasn’t a strong enough word, either.
What I’d done.
My behavior.
How I’d left her.
I couldn’t allow myself to think about it, because thinking about it made me want to die.
Wincing when pain ricocheted through my temple, a direct reaction to the sunlight pouring through the window, I opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway. I had a perfect view of who I presumed was Kavanagh’s mother, giving her son a piece of his mind. With her hands on her hips, and her back to me, the low-size blonde stood in the doorway of yet another room in their fortress of fortune.
The sound of my sister chiming in, “I’ll go. Right now, I promise,” instantly had my back up.
Fucked in the head or not, I knew that voice.
Her panic beckoned me like a siren.
Falling back into the habit of a lifetime and taking the heat off my sister, I called out, “Thanks for the bed, Kavanagh, can I borrow a hoodie?”
Because I could take whatever this lady might throw at us for intruding on her home.
Her disdain.
Her outrage.
Her accusations.
She couldn’t hurt me because none of it mattered to me like it did to Shannon.
Kavanagh’s mother cast a brief glance in my direction before turning back to her son and resuming her ranting.
Fair enough.
I couldn’t exactly blame the woman for her reaction.
When she was finished giving her son a piece of her mind and turned her attention back to me, I braced myself for battle, but it wasn’t anger I saw in her eyes.
It wasn’t fear, either.
It was sadness.
And fuck, somehow that made it worse.
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“What’s your name, love?”
“Joey.” Eyeing her warily as she walked towards me, I stepped out of her way, backing up against the bathroom door. “Lynch.”
“Joey Lynch,” she repeated, not stopping until she was standing directly in front of me. “I’m Edel.” She held her hand out to me. “Edel Kavanagh.”
“Okay.” I replied, eyeing her outstretched hand.
I didn’t move.
Instead, I watched and waited.