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Nodding grimly, he glared down at me. “My parents aren’t your parents, Molloy. They won’t welcome you with a hug and a roast dinner.” A visible shiver racked through his tall frame, and then he was moving, turning away from his house, and doing his very best to take me with him. “Fuck it. Forget it. Let’s just go back to your place.”
“I’m doing this, Joey,” I warned, digging my heels into the gravel. “It’s been almost nine months. I’m meeting them whether you take me inside there or I go in alone.”
“For fuck’s sake!” He blew out a harsh breath. “Why is this such a big deal for you?”
I didn’t flinch or shy away when I said, “Because I want to look that bastard in the eyes and show him that you have someone ready and willing to go to war bothwithyou andforyou.”
“Jesus.” Running a hand through his hair, he muttered, “Now you’re definitely not going inside that house.”
“You won’t talk about what happens inside of that house, and I don’t push,” I stated calmly. “Ineverpush you, Joe, even when I see the bruises, even when you keep me completely in the dark, and especially when every fiber of my being demands that I do something to protect you.”
His eyes flashed with fear. “You swore—”
“I know and I won’t call them,” I hurried to assure him, remembering the epic fight we had the last time he showed up to school with a bloody lip and I made the mistake of asking if we should call the Gards. “I told you I wouldn’t, and I won’t.”
Releasing a shaky breath, he whispered, “Okay.”
“But Iwillstand beside you,” I told him, reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck. “I will do that, Joey, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop me.”
He stared back at me for the longest time before relenting with a frustrated growl.
“It doesn’t matter what they say, or how they react,” I whispered, reaching up to press a kiss to the curve of his jaw. “I won’t run.”
“He might be home,” he warned, tone thick now. “He might…“
“Iwon’trun,” I vowed, stretching up to kiss him. “I’m not leaving you, and there’s nothing he can say or do to change that.”
“Don’t make me do this, Aoif,” he whispered then, tone begging.
His plea hurt because he used my first name, and that meant that he was reaching out to tell me just how serious he was.
“It’s going to happen someday,” I whispered back, stroking his nose with mine, desperate to give him comfort. “It might as well be this day.”
After a long moment, the imploring look in his green eyes morphed into reluctant acceptance. “Stay with me,” he told me, as he kept a death grip on my hand. “I’ll keep you safe.”
Fear washed over me.
Jesus, what the hell was he living with?
Sucking in a steadying breath, I followed Joey inside, not stopping until he had walked us past the outdated living room, through the small, run-down hallway, and into the kitchen.
“Is he here?” were the first words he greeted his mother with.
Daydreaming at the kitchen table, his mother’s head snapped up, and she stared wild-eyed for a moment before schooling her features. “Who?”
“Dad,” came Joey’s flat voice.
“No,” his mother replied softly. “He’s, not back yet.”
I wasn’t sure if the shudder that racked through Joey’s frame was one of relief or fearful anticipation, but I didn’t have much time to think about it, because he quickly pulled me forward.
“Mam, this is Aoife Molloy,” he announced, keeping a tight hold on my hand. “Aoife, this is my mam; Marie Lynch.”
“Uh, hey?” I offered a small wave with my free hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Lynch.”
“I remember you.” Recognition flashed in her big blue eyes. “You were the girl with Joey’s school bag.”
“Yeah.” Nodding, I smiled. “That’s me.”
