It wasn’t.
None of this was okay.
But this boy needed something to cling to.
“I just…” Breathing hard and fast, he reached for my hand and let his shoulders slump in defeat. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“I know.” Taking his hands in mine, I led him out of her room and closed the door behind us. “Listen to me,” I coaxed, moving for the bathroom. “I’m going to go downstairs and sort the boys, and you’re going to take a shower.”
Pain and confusion flashed in his eyes. “But I—”
“Just breathe, Joe,” I instructed, ushering him into the bathroom. “Take a minute, okay? Shower and change out of your work clothes. I’ll hang with the boys for a bit.”
“I can’t do this, Molloy,” he repeated, sounding as broken as he looked. “I can’t.”
My heart seized with a horrible concoction of fear and dread.
“You’ve got one more night in you,” I replied, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “I promise.”
"I don’t want to let it go."
"What?" was all I managed to croak out.
"Us," he replied. "I'm not letting it go. I can't do this without you.”
The words escaped his lips like a torn admission.
Like it pained him to say this.
Like he was only registering the impact of his words as they spilled from his lips.
“And I don’t want to,” he whispered, dropping his head. “I don’t want a life without you in it.”
Broken in half from his admission, I could do nothing but wrap my arms around his lean frame and pull him close. “I’m still here, Joe.”
“Don’t go downstairs,” he mumbled, snaking an arm around my back and pulling me flush against him. “Be with me.”
“Joe…”
“Just be with me,” he begged, dropping his head on my shoulder. “You don’t have do anything with me, I promise. I just…” He exhaled a ragged breath and said, “Just hold onto me, Molloy.”
“Okay,” was all I could say in response, while my heart well and truly split down the center. “I’ll be with you, Joe.”
Always.
After coaxing Joey into the shower, I popped downstairs to check on the boys to find them still arguing over the remote. Settling grudges and doling out snacks, I then returned to Joey’s room to find him fresh from a shower. With a towel wrapped around his narrow hips, he sat on the edge of his bed, with his shoulders slumped, and his head in his hands.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, closing his bedroom door behind me. “You look sad, Joe,” I noted, moving to stand in front of him. “You look devastated, if truth be told.”
“It just ah…” Shaking his head, he forced himself to look at me when he said, “I thought you left.”
My poor heart slammed violently against my ribcage. “Nope. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the evening.”
He blew out another shaky breath, and then his hands her on my hips, tugging me closer until my belly was touching his nose. “Good.”
“Joe.”
Without a word, he reached for the hem of my hoodie and pulled it up to reveal my bump. “I love ya.” He pressed a lingering kiss to my belly. “Both of ye.”
My breath hitched in my throat, and I couldn’t stop my hands from knotting in his hair. “We love you too, Joe.”
“I’ll sort this,” he continued to whisper, as he peppered kisses over my stomach. “I promise, I’ll fix everything.”
And that was all it took.
Just a glimpse of the boy I’d fallen in love with was all it took to rid me of my clothes and have me on my back beneath him.
Trembling when his lips moved over my skin, as he buried his face between my thighs, I clutched at the bedsheets, and blinked my tears away, feeling too much for this boy than was good for me.
“Joe,” I whispered hoarsely when he moved between my legs. “I need you to wear a condom, remember?”
He stilled for a moment, and I could see the devastation washing over him in waves before he nodded in shame and reached for the drawer of his nightstand to retrieve a foil wrapper.
Ironically, it was during pregnancy that we had finally decided to use protection. I could count on one hand the number of times we’d been intimate since his father’s attack, and I had been careful to protect myself each time.
“I know you haven’t been with anyone else,” I hurried to soothe, watching as he clumsily rolled a condom on his shaft with trembling hands. “I’m just…you remember the doctor said that I need to protect myself and the baby in case.”
“It’s okay,” he replied, voice cracking, hands resting on his thighs. “I understand.”
“Joe.” Pulling myself up on one elbow, I hooked an arm around his neck and drew him down to me. “It’s okay. Just be with me.”
“I’m sorry,” he strangled out, pushing himself deep inside of me. “You’ll never know how much.”
PART NINE
YOU CALL AND I COME RUNNING
JOEY
Allergic.
It was the only word to describe how I was feeling when I walked through the front doors of BCS on Monday morning.
An epic showdown between Mam and Shannon over Kavanagh picking her up for school, followed by a shit-show of a shouting match between myself and Darren was the reason I was late. When I walked into class, ten minutes after the bell, and my eyes landed on Molloy sitting at our desk, I felt every muscle in my body coil tight in dreaded anticipation.
Would today be the day she had enough?
Would today be the day she finally told me to go fuck myself?
Because, let’s face it, we both knew I was on borrowed time with her. Being with her on Saturday night had done something to me, though. It had sparked a fire inside of me that resulted in my holding out yesterday. Somehow, and I wasn’t too fucking sure how, I had managed to steer clear of Shane and survive on a couple of joints.
My head was in bits and my body was in worse shape, but I could see clearly, and I was thinking a little more rationally.
It was nothing to sing home about, but it was a start.
I had to start somewhere.
And that girl was my everywhere.
“Time management, Joseph,” Miss Lane snapped, giving me the evil-eyed glare that she reserved especially for me, as I waited for her to fill in my red book. “Last warning.”
Like I gave a fuck.
I was here for two reasons.
The blonde at my desk and the baby in her belly.
Ignoring Podge and Alec who were trying to grab my attention, I moved straight for my desk, not stopping until I was in the seat next to hers with our knees brushing. “Molloy.”
“Joe,” she replied, keeping her gaze trained on the copybook laying open on the desk in front of her.
Without a word, I retrieved the earphone waiting for me and popped it in.
Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car filled my ears and fuck if it didn’t pour salt in my already gaping wounds. Like always, she reached under the desk and took my hand in hers, but when I entwined our fingers and squeezed back, she turned in surprise to look at me. “Hey, stud.”
“Hey, queen.”