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“Don’t worry,” he was quick to interject. “I’ve made the mistake of handing over my wages to a bum for the last time.”
That was a lie. The minute his next wage packet landed in his hands, Joey would go right ahead and hand it over to his mother again. It was one of the reasons I loved him so much. And a huge reason why I despised his mother.
“So, I’m sort of freezing out here,” I told him, gesturing around us.
“Shit, yeah,” he muttered, reaching for the hem of his hoodie, only to realize that this was one of the rare occasions when he wasn’t wearing one. “Do you have a coat?” he asked, pulling me in close and splaying his big hand across my bare back.
“No, but I don’t need one,” I replied, just about done with all of the heavy. “Because I have an unlimited supply of free alcohol to warm my belly and this asshole guy I’m sort of in love with to warm everywhere else.”
He smirked. “Is that so?”
“Uh-huh. Come on, Tony Soprano.” Wrapping my arm around his waist, I slid my hand into his back pocket and leaned in to his warm side. “This time, you can look after me.”
11
No More Walls
JOEY
Molloy laid her cards on the table, gave me her ultimatum, and I’d never been more grateful. I’d never been the kind of person that took being cornered or told what to do lying down, but I didn’t feel the usual need to fight her on it.
It had taken years to happen, but my body and mind didn’t automatically slip into attack mode when she called me out on my bullshit anymore. I didn’t shift into defense mode either, because something deep inside of me recognized her as an ally.
My teammate.
It had never happened before.
Not with a single other human on this planet.
Not even my sister.
But something about this girl settled something deep inside of me.
I couldn’t understand it, much less explain it, but when I was with her, I felt like I was drowning and breathing at once. I felt like I was riding this thrilling wave, and it didn’t matter if I fell or not because I could only land on softness.
I wasn’t going to get hurt this time.
Because Aoife Molloy was not going to harm me. It had taken me six long years to accept that. When she told me that she loved me, she meant it, and it was as unsettling as it was addictive, because if she only felt a fifth for me of what I felt for her, then I was one lucky son of a bitch.
______________________
“Do you know what yesterday was?” Molloy asked several hours and countless drinks later. We were still at the party, still in the same position we’d been in for the past hour, with my back pressed to the living room wall and her body pressed flush against mine.
“What was yesterday, Molloy?” I indulged her by asking, keeping one hand clamped on her hip while I took a swig from my bottle with the other.
She was loaded, while I had somehow managed to remain in control of my impulsive nature. After nine bottles, I was mildly buzzed, but I had built up a tolerance level that could rival a horse. Unlike my lightweight drinking buddy, it would take a lot more than a few beers to take me down.
“Yesterday was the seventh.”
“The seventh?”
“Uh-huh. Our anniversary,” she announced, cheeks stained in that adorable pink shade that always came out when she was drunk. “One year ago yesterday we had our first kiss.”
Well, shit. “I didn’t know that.”
“Yep,” she breathed, leaning heavily against me. “Exactly one year ago yesterday, you stuck your tongue down my throat.”
“That’s a little fumble with the truth,” I teased, grinning down at her. “If my memory serves me correctly, it was your tongue that entered my mouth first.”
