Breathing hard and fast, he used the hem of his jersey to wipe his face and the move gave me a glorious glimpse of his toned stomach, while his teammates celebrated the win.
The moment he noticed me watching him, a slow smile spread across his face.
Cupping my hands around my mouth, I called out, “Nice abs.”
“Nice legs,” he called back with a wink, and just like that, I was ruined.
“What am I saying?” Casey declared with a resigned laugh. “Of course you’re going to get swallowed up in him again.”
SAME SHIT, DIFFERENT SCHOOL
JOEY
My day had consisted of seven hours at school, followed by a match, followed by a further four hours at the garage.
By the time I walked through the door a little after eleven that night, I was bone weary, and in dire need of a mattress to collapse onto.
However, the look on my mother’s face assured me that sleep was the last thing I would be getting.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, dropping my school bag, gear bag, hurley and helmet in the hallway before making a beeline for the kitchen. “Mam?”
“It happened again,” she choked out, tears streaming down her face, as she dropped her head in her hands. “Shannon’s in hospital.”
My heart sank. “No.”
Mam nodded in confirmation and I thought I might explode from the sudden rush of blood to the head.
“Why?” My breath caught in my throat. “What happened?”
“She has a concussion,” she explained, slumped in her usual chair. “They’re keeping her overnight for observation.”
“A concussion?” I gaped. “How? Where? What the fuck?”
“Some boy in one of the senior classes hit her with a rugby ball during practice, and she took a terrible fall at school.” Sniffling, she reached for the torn fabric in front of her and held it up. “Ripped her skirt in the process, apparently. I can’t remember his name,” she strangled out. “But he was an older boy around the same age as you.”
“On purpose?” Fury roared to life inside of me. “Mam, did he do it on purpose?”
“He swore blind to the principal that he didn’t mean to hurt her,” she replied, tone dripping with disdain. “He brought her inside when she collapsed and was sitting with her outside of the office when I arrived, but you know what they’re like,” Mam sobbed. “I thought this time would be different for her. Better. She needs better, Joey. She needed a fresh start and it’s ruined.”
“What’s Shannon saying about it?”
“She swears it was an accident, too,” Mam replied wearily. “But you know how she lies.”
“Well then, maybe it was,” I offered, allowing myself to be hopeful for once in my life. “If he took her to the office after it happened and stayed with her until you came.”
“I expect that kind of naivety from your brothers and sister, but not you,” Mam snapped. “You know better.”
Yeah, I did, but for once, I didn’t want to.
For once in my life, I wanted my mother to show me the same consideration that she so willingly showed the rest of my siblings.
It wouldn’t happen, of course.
Because my feelings weren’t meant to be spared.
They were meant to be bulletproof.
Or nonexistent.
“What’s Dad saying?”
Her shoulders slumped, but she didn’t reply.
“What’s he saying about it, Mam?” I pushed.
“That it serves her right for thinking she was better than the rest of you.”
“Prick,” I muttered, rubbing my jaw. “He doesn’t have a goddamn—”
“Please don’t start,” she cut me off with a sob. “I’ve already heard all that I can handle tonight from your father.”
“Mam,” I began to say, but she shook her head, silencing me with her dismissal.
With a sniffle, she rose from the table, pressed a hand to her growing stomach, and walked straight past me, with scorn and disappointment wafting from her in waves.
The kitchen door closed behind me, and I felt that familiar swell of frustrated desperation rise up inside of me. It was the same feeling that was never sated until I forced it away with whatever I could get my hands on.
Helpless, I stood in the kitchen, with my hands hanging limply at my sides, as I absorbed the horrible fucking sensations and feelings rushing through me.
Unwilling to unlock my muscles out of fear of what I was capable of doing, and even more unwilling to detonate the self-destruct button on the life I had barely managed to get back on track, I bowed my head and breathed in deep and slow.
It doesn’t matter, I tried to soothe myself by mentally chanting, none of this matters, because you don’t care, remember?
You don’t care.
You don’t care.
You don’t fucking care!
THE NIGHT VISIT
AOIFE
It was a little after midnight when I was roused to the sound of my bedroom window creaking open and then closing shut.
My heart accelerated in my chest when muffled footsteps followed, and then I felt the mattress dip beside me.
Remaining silent, I rolled onto my back, and turned my head to look at my boyfriend.
Because I just knew that it was Joey.
Fully clothed and body rigid, he lay on top of my covers, with his hood up, and his hands resting on his stomach, as he glared up at my bedroom ceiling.
He was breathing in excessively deep and slow, letting me know that he was dealing with something in his mind, and instead of running to Shane, he had come here.
To me.
In the darkness, with only the hue of the moon shining through my window to illuminate us, we laid side by side. My body cloaked in warmth, and his in coldness.
Mirroring our lives.
Without speaking a word, I reached out and took one of his big hands in mine and lifted it to my mouth.
He needed to process.
He needed to make the next move for himself.
I couldn’t do that for him.
Pressing four soft kisses to each of his scarred knuckles, I cradled his hand to my chest and waited.
After what felt like an eternity, he exhaled a pained breath and entwined my fingers with his.
He turned his head to look at me, so I did the same.
“I needed Tommen to be better for her.”
“Shannon?”
He nodded stiffly.
Heart sinking, I covered our joined hands with my free one.
“She looked at me like it was my fault.”
“Your mam?”
Another stiff nod.
My heart squeezed.
I knew that he didn’t need me to bombard him with questions, much less did he want my pity or comfort, so I just stared at him, watching as his clear, green eyes focused on my mine.
“She hates me,” he finally came out with, his words a pained admission. “You should see the way she looks at me.”
Pain encompassed me and I rolled onto my side, facing him. “What do you see when I look at you?”
He flinched. “That’s not the—”
“What do you see, Joe?”
“You,” he whispered brokenly. “I see you, Molloy.”
“You see love,” I corrected softly, releasing his hand to cup his stubbly cheek. “You see acceptance.”
He swallowed deeply, but didn’t reply.