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Mam placed her hand on the small swell of her stomach, and I wanted to die. “We’re having another baby, Joey.”
No.
“I’m due in November.”
No.
“The doctors reckon it’s another boy.”
Please God fucking no.
“It’ll be different this time, Joey,” Mam hurried to add, almost jumping out of her skin when Dad wrapped his arm around her. “You father is off the drink. For good, this time. We’re working through everything—“ her breath hitched, and she cleared her throat before whispering, “This baby is our fresh start.”
Liar.
Liar.
Liar.
Babies weren’t supposed to be made in order to plaster over cracks in marriages, but that’s what this one would be. That’s what each one of us were, temporary plasters to cover the cracks in our parents’ dysfunctional relationship.
Numb, I stared at my mother’s face, as a new level of devastation washed over me. “You planned this?”
Mam opened her mouth to reply, but he got there first.
“We both did,” Dad snapped. “Now, aren’t you going to say anything to your mother and me?”
“Congratulations,” I replied in a dead tone – a lot like how I felt in that moment. Shaking my head, I stepped around them and moved for the door, grabbing my training bag as I moved. “I’m working until half six, and I’ve a match after, so I’ll be late home.”
“It will be different this time, Joe,” Mam called after me, voice thick with emotion. “I promise.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, before closing the front door behind me. Because this time, I had no intention of remembering any of it.
Not a damn second.
* * *
By the timeI had made the walk to work, my mood had darkened to the point where I honestly didn’t think I could handle another ounce of bullshit.
However, that’s exactly what I got the second I walked into the garage and locked eyes on none other than Molloy, hand in hand, with her lapdog of a boyfriend.
Wonderful.
Just fuckingwonderful.
“Hey, Joe,” Molloy said with a beamer of a smile, noticing me the second I walked into the building.
I nodded stiffly. “Molloy.”
“Joey, lad,” Tony said with a warm smile. “How are you?”
“Grand, Tony. Sorry I’m late,” I muttered, stalking past them to store my hurley, helmet, and gear bag in the office.
I was in no mood to play a match tonight, but sometimes the matches I wasn’t in the form to play ended up being the best ones.
I was certainly riled up enough for it.
Returning to her conversation, Molloy laughed and chatted to her father, while Paul the prick stood alongside her like a, well, like a spare prick.
