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“This is the part where you run,” I told my asshole ex. “Fast.”
My brother opened his mouth to speak, but Joey got there first. “You should listen to your sister.”
It was almost comical how quickly both boys took off, bolting off in opposite directions.
“Yeah, you should run,” I called after my brother, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort as I leaned against my boyfriend’s chest. “You little bitch.”
“I’m so fucking sorry I’m late,” Joey muttered when they were out of earshot. “I overslept.”
“I’m just glad you’re here,” I replied, turning in his arms. “I didn’t think you were going to show… What the hell happened to your face?”
My mouth fell open and I gaped at the horrific bruising and swelling on the left side of his face.
“Jesus Christ, Joe.” I reached up to touch him. “Your cheek.”
“Yeah, I think it’s broken,” he muttered, gently batting my hand away as he reached for his bag and hurley. “Don’t touch it, okay? It’s tender as fuck.”
“Broken?” I swallowed the lump in my throat as my heart cracked clean open.
He’d taken another beating from his father.
Another broken bone.
Another chip of his heart that would never be pieced back together.
“He did this to you.” My voice cracked. “Because of me? Because of the baby?”
“No, not because of the baby,” he replied in a soft tone. “Because he’s a prick.” He opened the classroom door and gestured to me to go first. “This isn’t on you.”
“And what time do you call this?” Mr. Dineen demanded when we walked into class.
“Sorry we’re late, sir,” I declared before the teacher could go in on my boyfriend like he usually would. “We’re having a bit of a crisis.”
“A crisis?”
“Morning sickness,” some asshole fake-coughed from the back of the class, evoking a chorus of wolf whistles and ooohs.
“Right, well, I’ll let you off just this once,” our teacher replied, cheeks reddening as he gestured for us to take our seats.
Hurrying to the back of the class, I took my seat in the back row and watched as Joey waited at Mr. Dineen’s desk for him to sign his red book.
On his way back to our desk, his movements were stiff and rigid, and I knew all too well that the marks on his face weren’t the only ones his father put on his body.
My heart cracked at the thought.
“Joe,” I whispered when he carefully lowered himself onto the seat beside mine.
“It’s all good, Molloy.” He tossed his hurley and helmet on the floor at his feet before turning to give me his full attention. “I’m fine.” His green eyes were warm and full of affection when he leaned in close and whispered, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah?” He slipped his hand under the desk and squeezed my thigh. “Well, you look good, baby.”
How he could be so good to me, so considerate and caring of my feelings, when he was going through hell was beyond me.
“I love you,” I whispered, covering his hand with mine. “So much.”
“I know.” Blowing out a pained breath, he entwined his fingers with mine. “I know, Molloy.”
