“I still want in, too,” he replied gruffly. “I just…” He blew out a ragged breath. “You mean the world to me,” he confessed, voice pained. “I know I have a fucked-up way of expressing myself, and I don’t show it like I should. But it’s true. I don’t want to do anything to hurt you, yet most of the time, that’s exactly what I end up doing.”
His words, his touch, his scent, it was all too much in the moment. “Joe.”
"I'll love you the right way this time," he whispered, and his breath fanned my cheek. "If you show me how.”
My hand shot out of its own accord, knotting in the front of his shirt and pulling him closer when I needed to push him away. “Joe.”
“What I did at Christmas? How far I went? It scared the shit out of me, and all I could think about was if I didn’t get you away from me, I would end up destroying my world, because that’s what you are to me, Aoif. You’re my whole goddamn world wrapped up in one girl. So, yeah, maybe I’ve gone about it entirely the wrong way, but all I’ve ever tried to do is protect you.”
“See, that’s a huge part of our problem right there, Joe, because I’ve never needed your protection,” I croaked out. “I’m not your mother or your sister. I’m not another girl who needs something from you. I’m the girl who wholeheartedly wants you. I’m the girl who wholeheartedly loves you. The hurler. The mechanic. The boy. The protector. The asshole. The lover. The addict.” Sniffling, I added, “All of your versions. All of your shapes and colors. I accept them all. So, I don’t care how fucked up in the head you get, or how bad of an idea you decide you are for me. If you can’t be with me, warts and all, then walk away now, because I won’t go through this again with you.”
“I hear you, Molloy,” he replied, tone strained, as he rested both hands on my waist.
“Do you?” I implored him with my eyes to be honest. “Do you really hear me, Joe?”
He nodded slowly. “I hear you, baby.”
“Good.” Trembling, I clenched my eyes shut, losing the battle with both my emotions and my pride, as I dropped my forehead to rest against his chest. “Because you can’t take it back this time, Joe. Do you hear me? You don’t get to walk away again for any other reason than you don’t want to be with me, and trust that I will do the same.”
“Okay.” His hands slid from my waist to my shoulders, and then moved to cup my face, hands tangling in my hair, evoking a shiver of pleasure from my body that only he could. “I can do that.”
Illicit sensations and feelings roared to the surface when he stroked his nose against mine, nuzzling me with the kind of affection I knew he held only for me. It was empowering and terrifying all in one breath. “I love you.”
He said it so easily now that it sounded foreign to my ears.
A shaky breath escaped my parted lips.
“I love you,” he repeated slowly, leaning in to give me an innocent, sweet, soul-destroying kiss.
“No more walls, Joe.” My arms came around his waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, as I clung to him like a prayer. “No more secrets and coverups, okay? We’re way past those. Because I’ve never been your enemy,” I squeezed out. “I’ve always been your teammate.”
He stilled for a moment before releasing a heavy sigh. “Then in the spirit of full disclosure, I should probably tell you that I didn’t just come here because I was invited.”
“Okay…” I narrowed my eyes, instantly suspicious. “What did you do?”
Shaking his head, he caught ahold of my hand and led me outside to a quiet part of the garden. “Don’t flip out.”
I folded my hands across my chest and glared up at him. “Don’t give me a reason to flip out and I won’t.”
He scrunched his nose up before muttering, “I sold Biggs an eighth.”
“Of joy?”
He squirmed in discomfort. “Of weed.”
“Jesus, Joey!”
“I didn’t go to Shane,” he was quick to offer up. “I haven’t gone near him since that night.”
“Then where’d you get it?” I demanded. “Your personal stash?”
He offered me a sheepish shrug.
“Jesus.” I shook my head. “What am I saying? Of course you have a personal stash.”
“That’s all I have, I swear.”
“Don’t lie to me—”
“I’m not,” he interrupted. “That’s all I had. That’s it, Molloy. I swear.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why’d you do something as incredibly stupid as selling weed to a bunch of private school kids?”
He eyed me warily, but didn’t answer.
“Why?” I repeated, not backing down.
“Because they asked me to?”
I gave him a look that said wrong answer.
He released a frustrated growl and tried again. “Because I needed the money.”
Now we were getting somewhere. “For?”
“My family.”
“Because?”
He looked up to the sky and shook his head before saying, “Because my old man blew every penny my mother had, and when he was finished spending her money, she handed him mine.”
“Are you serious?”
“It’s my own fault,” he replied in a resigned tone. “I always give her half of my wages at the end of the week to help with the bills, and a few extra quid at Christmas to get what she needs for the kids.” Frowning, he added, “Your father gave me an extra couple of hundred in my wage packet for Christmas this year, and I was either too stupid or too high to consider the repercussions when I handed it over to her.”
“You gave her all of your money?”
“Every cent,” he admitted before quickly backpedaling with a frown. “I got those slouch boots you wanted for Christmas first. They’re under my bed.”
My heart squeezed in my chest. “Joe.”
“I’ve been staying out of trouble, Molloy, really, I have,” he urged. “Hughie Biggs approached me. He and his friends were looking for a smoke and throwing around more cash than sense.” He shrugged before adding, “I took the opportunity with both hands, and I won’t apologize for it. I needed that cash for my sister and the boys. For the baby. I couldn’t see Seany go without.” He shook his head, eyes awfully full of regret for a guy who refused to apologize. “I’m not a dealer, Molloy – you know I’m not. But I couldn’t turn my nose up at a one-time offer like that. I couldn’t afford to.”
“Why?” Curiosity got the better of me and I asked, “How much did they offer you?”
“Two hundred euro for a bag that cost me sixty.”
“Are you serious?” My mouth fell open. “Do you know how many hours I have to work at the pub to make that kind of money?”
“I know.” He nodded, wide-eyed. “It’s the same for me at the garage. That’s exactly what I thought. See? This is why I love you. You get it.”
“Yeah, I get it, but that’s not the point,” I hurried to add, giving him a warning stare. “That shit stops.” Narrowing my eyes, I said, “Never again, do you hear me? If you so much as consider—”