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“I hear you,” he tried to coax, holding his hands up. “And I want to help you. I swear, I do. But—”
“Eight days,” I choked out, not bothering to lie or hide my emotions. If Gibsie saw Joey today, then he knew what I was dealing with. “I haven’t seen him in eight damn days.”
“He’s safe,” he replied, tone taking on a sincere note. “I promise, okay? Kav’s got this. Your boy is sleeping it off at his gaff. Shannon’s there with him. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“You don’t get it,” I bit out, repressing the urge to scream. “I need to see him.”
“I’m not going to lie to you. Your lad is in a real bad fucking way,” Gibsie came right out and told me. “But he’s safe. If you go over there and wake him up, fuck knows what he’ll do or where he’ll go.” He shook his head and gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m not trying to get in your business here, but I really, really think you should let him sleep it—”
“Hi,” a familiar voice interrupted, moments before a blond head of curls peeked out from under Gibsie’s arm. “It’s Aoife, right? From our nineties party?” Clad in an oversized rugby jersey and a pair of fluffy pink pajamas bottoms and matching bunny slippers, she beamed at me. “You remember me, don’t you? I’m Claire Biggs.”
“Yeah, hi, I remem—” Before I had a chance to finish, she snaked her hand out and caught ahold of mine.
“Come on inside before you freeze to death on the doorstep.” She slapped her pal’s chest. “Honestly, Gerard,” she scolded as she pulled me inside and led me down the hallway, through a dimly lit kitchen, and into a spacious conservatory. “Where are your manners? You don’t leave girls on the doorstep at night.”
“I didn’t,” Gibsie was quick to protest as he ambled along behind us. “I was holding the door for her like a gentleman.”
“Are you hungry?” Claire continued, leading me over to a cardboard box on the glass coffee table in the center of the room. “Thirsty?”
“No, I’m fine,” I replied, prying my hand free. “I just really need to… What the hell is that?” My mouth fell open and I watched as she dropped to her knees in front of the table, awwing and cooing at the contents of the box. “Is that a rat?”
“What? No,” Claire replied, retrieving the gardening glove next to the box and pulling it on before reaching inside and retrieving the prickly creature. “We found him in the middle of the road on the way back from Johnny’s place. He was all alone in the dark, and we couldn’t leave him there in case he got driven over, so we brought him home.” Smiling dotingly at the “thing” in her hand, she cooed, “Isn’t he the most adorable ball of cuteness you’ve ever seen?”
“I, ah…” Shaking my head, I tried to come up with something logical to say when it felt like I had entered the twilight zone. “Guys, that’s a hedgehog.”
“His name is Reginald Gibson-Biggs,” Gibsie corrected, sitting cross-legged on the plush rug next to his gal pal. “Come on, Claire-Bear. Don’t be greedy. It’s my turn.” Setting a pillow on his lap, he patted it and cooed, “Come to Daddy, Reggie.”
“Careful, Gerard, he’s really skinny.”
“I know what I’m doing, Claire-Bear.”
“I know you do, but he’s just so itty-bitty.”
“That’s because he’s just come out of hibernation. Poor baby is starving.”
“Should we get him some worms?”
“Do hedgehogs eat worms?” His brow furrowed. “I thought they ate grass.”
“I think I remember learning about a hedgehog’s diet in nature class.”
“Shit, I didn’t take nature class.”
“Everyone in Ireland takes nature class in primary school, Gerard.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“When?”
“Remember being taken out on long walks with your teacher and class?”
“Yeah?”
“Those were nature walks,” she explained. “For nature class.”
“Well, shit.” He chuckled. “I thought they were movement breaks.”
