“Yeah,” I snorted. “Only because I persuaded her to swallow her pride and let us do it.”
“You did?”
“Yeah,” I replied flatly. “Dad had fucked off with all of our money, she wasn’t getting paid for another fortnight, and her precious Darren was too busy studying for his exams to get a job.” Shrugging, I added, “We needed something to get us by. Ollie needed nappies, and there wasn’t a scrap of food in the press when he left.”
“Really?” Shannon squeezed out. “So, that’s why you got that job with Tony Molloy that Christmas? Because we didn’t have any money?”
I shrugged. “Pretty much.”
“Wow.” She blew out a breath. “I never knew that.”
“There’s a lot you never knew, Shan,” I muttered, taking another sip of tea. “Be glad.”
“I am,” she hurried to assure me. “I am glad, Joe – and grateful. Darren might have been the academic son, but you’re the survivor.” She reached across the couch and squeezed my shoulder with her small hand. “Which is how I know that you are going to be okay.” She gave me a meaningful look and whispered the words, “I promise.”
A small knock sounded on the front door then, and I quickly sprang to my feet, thankful for the break in conversation.
It was getting too deep, and I couldn’t handle heavy right now.
“Who is it?” Shannon called after me, when I had barely made it to the hallway.
“Maybe if you give me a chance to answer it, I can tell you,” I replied dryly, as I turned the key in the lock and swung the door inwards.
The minute my eyes landed on her face, I felt like the air that been knocked clean out of my lungs.
Fuck.
With her arms wrapped around herself protectively, Molloy stood at my front door, looking more broken and more beautiful than I’d ever seen her look in the six years I’d known her.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi.” Ignoring my sister as she called out from the sitting room, I managed to string enough words together to ask, “Are you okay?”
The dark circles under her puffy eyes assured me that she wasn’t.
With her teeth chattering, I watched as she started to nod before abruptly stopping and shaking her head instead. “Can we talk?”
Fuck.
With my heart hammering violently in my chest, I stepped outside and pulled the front door out behind me, knowing that whatever she had to say was going to hurt, but complying without protest because I deserved everything that she could throw at me and more.
I’M NOT OKAY
DECEMBER 31ST 2004
AOIFE
When I knocked on the Lynch’s front door late on New Year’s Eve, the very last person I had been expecting to see standing in the doorway was Joey.
But when the door swung inwards, that’s exactly who I found staring back at me.
Of course, he was who I had come to see, but in my heart of hearts, I honestly thought that it would be a fruitless trip.
The minute my eyes landed on his, the pain in my chest that I had been walking around with amplified. To the point where I had to physically press my hand against my chest bone to soothe the ache.
My breath hitched. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He gripped the door tighter. “Are you okay?”
No. “Can we talk?”
He nodded and I exhaled a shaky breath when he stepped outside and quietly closed the door out behind him.
The grey sweatpants he was wearing hung low on his narrow hips, revealing a hint of the black boxer shorts he had on underneath. The plain white t-shirt he had on revealed his tattooed arms and fitted him in such a way that I could see the hint of black ink on his chest.
It hurt.
It fucking scorched me.
Unable to stop myself, I drank in the sight of him, as my body heated, and my heart cracked under the insurmountable effort that it took for me to stand here and face him.
“I, ah…” Letting my voice trail off, I studied his face, feeling more confused with every second that passed. “You’re here.” You’re sober.
“Yeah.” Joey nodded slowly, jaw ticking. “I am.”
“Why?” I demanded, tone hoarse and broken. “Why are you here?”
“Should I not be?”
“It’s New Year’s Eve.”
“Yeah, I’m aware of the date.”
“Answer me.”
He blew out a pained breath when he said, “I’m sort of trying to turn over a new leaf.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Why?”
He gave me a hard look. “Why do you think?”
“Why?” I repeated, unrelenting. “Why, Joe, why?”
“Because I fucked up!”
“So?” Tears pooled my eyes, and I carefully kept them open, not daring to blink. I knew if I did, the dam would burst. Blinking tears away never worked for me, I had to stare them back to hell. “You’ve fucked up before and it hasn’t stopped you from doing it again.” Over and over again…
“Yeah, well, maybe this time when I fucked up, it cost me more than I was willing to lose.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know what it means,” he replied, running a hand through his hair.
“Say it,” I demanded, as we stood less than two feet apart, with him towering over me. “Give me the words.”
His green eyes blazed with heat when he came right out and said, “it cost me you.”
“Me?”
“You.”
“No.” His words knocked me for six, and I shook my head. “Don’t say that.”
“You asked,” he bit out. “I answered.”
“But you…” Shaking my head, I glared up at him, feeling hopeful and hopeless all in one conflicted breath. “You did this, Joey.”
“I know.”
“No, no, no.” I held up a shaky hand, as I mentally batted away the pitiful hope rising up inside of me. “You broke up with me.”
“I know, Molloy.” His eyes blazed with heat when he growled, “I know.”
“Then don’t feed me anymore bullshit,” I hissed, unable to get a handle on my frazzled emotions. “You were more than willing to lose me when you walked out on me.” Tears burned my eyes as I stared up at him. “I was there, remember? I watched you leave.”
“Because I was trying to do the right thing,” he snarled, losing his cool right back with me. “Fuck!”
“For who?” I screamed, throwing my hands up.
“For you!” he roared back, chest heaving, as he mirrored my actions, throwing his hands up wildly. “For you, Molloy. For fucking you. Always you!” Frustrated, he clenched his hands at his sides and spat, “I was willing to walk away because I knew that it was the best thing that I could do for you, not because I don’t love you!”
“Love me?” I choked out a pained, humorless laugh. “So now you give me the word? When it’s over?” I shook my head, incredulous, as devastation ricocheted through me. “That’s just fucking priceless.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m giving you the truth.”
“You know about my parents’ relationship,” I accused, delirious with grief, and desperate for him to hear my pain. For him to know just how deep the knife he put in my back had cut me. It was wedged in the bone, and I was slowly dying inside. “You know why I have issues with trusting men.”