“No, she’s not staying,” Joey answered instead, as he inclined his head towards the front door, never taking his eyes off me. “A word.”
“I, ah, better…” my voice trailed off as I watched the front door swing open and Joey stalk outside. “Go,” I finished, offering his mother a small smile before stepping around her and moving for the door.
“Thank you for bringing his bag home,” she called after me. “It really was very good of you.”
“No problem.” Offering her a hasty wave, I followed her son out of the house. “Bye.”
The minute I had stepped outside and closed the front door behind me, Joey was on me.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he demanded in a hushed tone, clearly livid, as he paced around like a mad man. "Coming to my home like this?" His green eyes blazed with a mask of anger, but I could see the absolute panic underneath, as his attention kept slipping to the front door behind me. “What were you thinking showing up here?”
“I was thinking that you forgot your bag and might need it,” I tossed back before reaching a hand up to touch his face. “Did he do that to your eye?“
"Stay out of it," he bit out, snatching my hand up before I could touch him. “I mean it, Molloy.” Once again masking his fear with his temper, he met my eyes with a look of pure fury and pushed my hand away. "Stay out of my face and stay out of my fucking life!"
“Listen to me.” Closing the space he’d put between us, I reached for his hand, willing him to open up to me. “I know, okay? I get what’s happening here. Your dad’s a drunk, right?” With my thumb, I gestured behind me. “Gets a little handsy after a few too many glasses of Jameson?” I reached out to touch his shoulder. “Your back? Those scars—”
“You need to leave, Molloy,” Joey seethed, chest heaving, as he quickly stepped out of my reach again. “Now. I’m not fucking around here.” His gaze flicked to the house again and I could see the anxiety in his eyes. “You need to go,” he snarled, stalking down the driveway. “You need to go now, Molloy,” he added when he reached the garden wall. “Just fucking go. Please.”
"I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me," I argued, not giving him an inch, as I stalked towards him and reclaimed the space that he had put between us.
The rain was pouring down on both of us, but I wasn’t walking away.
Not now that I knew.
Not ever again.
I had a decent life, and a relatively stable home life. Sure, my father had a roaming eye, which mean that my parents’ relationship was off more times than it was on, but neither he nor Mam were abusive to each other or to myself and Kev.
We didn’t have a whole pile of money behind us, and we depended on social housing like most of the families on our estate, but we weren’t lacking anything, and definitely not love. It was given unconditionally and came from an unlimited supply source.
Most importantly, they didn’t beat us or starve us, and we weren’t woken in the dead of the night to the sound of glass shattering or flesh pummeling flesh.
We weren’t afraid to speak our minds or launch an opinion for fear of physical retaliation like his mother and siblings so obviously were.
"It’s okay, Joe,” I urged, imploring him to hear me, as I pushed my damp hair off my face. “I get it now.”
And I did.
Suddenly all of the aggression and mood swings began to make sense.
The drugs.
The fighting.
The vicious way he attacked both Paul and Kevin when he thought I was under threat.
It was like a raincloud had lifted in front of my eyes.
He wasn’t violent by nature.
He was violent because he wasn’t nurtured at home.
“I understand what’s happening here, and I'm on your side."
"You don’t know shit about what’s happening here," Joey warned, backing up another step when I reached up and touched the darkening bruise on his cheek. "Don't touch me."
"Why not?" I closed the space between us once more, pinning him to the garden wall. I reached up and let my fingers graze over the cut on his brow. "Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you?"
"No," he strangled out, shaking from head to toe, as he physically strained his body away from me. "I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
His words threw us both.
“Hurt me?” I repeated and quickly shook my head. “All you’ve ever done is look out for me, Joey Lynch. You would never hurt me.”
“I could,” he argued back, running a hand through his soaked hair. “I might.”
Wide-eyed and chest heaving, he watched me warily, waiting for my reaction.
Waiting for my rejection, I quickly realized.
“That’s not going to happen.” With my eyes locked on his, and my heart hammering wildly in my chest, I forced myself not to flinch. Not to turn away at the sight of his bruised face, or the dark circles under his eyes, as I whispered, "Because you're not him."
Joey stiffened. "You don’t know that, Molloy. You don’t know me. I break everything I care about. That’s what I do. I fuck it all up.”
My heart skipped about three dozen beats.
“It’s okay to let yourself care about me, Joe,” I whispered, knowing that I was treading on some very dangerous territory right now, but not having the self-control to fall back and retreat to safer surroundings.
Not when the only place I ever wanted to be seemed to be in the middle of one of his breakdowns.
"Don’t do that.” His voice was gruff, green eyes full of dangerous heat. “Don’t look at me like I’m that guy, Molloy. Don’t look for hidden meanings in the things I say. I’m not the guy for you.” He shook his head and blew out a pained breath “I will break this…” he paused to gesture between us, before adding, “Whatever this is; this warped little friendship we’ve formed over the years? I will fuck it up.”
“But will you mean it?” I pushed, refusing to back off. “That’s the important part.”
“No.” His green eyes narrowed on me, studying me with a sharpness that was entirely unnerving and exhilarating all in one breath. “I won’t mean it, of course I won’t fucking mean it, but that won’t stop it from happening—“
His words broke off when I kissed him.
That’s right, I lost my head right there in the middle of his street, threw caution to the wind, and slammed my lips to his.
His entire frame froze for a long moment, stiff and unmoving, and I briefly wondered if I had made a terrible mistake, but then he was kissing me back, twisting our bodies around so that I was the one with my back to his garden wall, as his lips moved against mine with an air of expertise that was truly rattling.
My breath came hard and fast, leaving me feeling almost faint, as I swayed against his tall frame.
He wasn’t overly big or hugely muscular, even though I knew from watching enough of his fights that he was ridiculously strong.
Instead, he was lean, with muscles that were defined beneath his taut, tanned skin.
Reaching up, I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on to this boy for dear life, as I kissed him back with everything I had inside of me.