Redeeming 6: Boys of Tommen #4
Redeeming 6: Part 4 – Chapter 50

AOIFE

“OKAY, IT’S BEEN THREE WEEKS,” Casey declared on Tuesday morning during French, when our teacher, Mr. Brady, left the room. Snapping her book shut, she twisted in her seat to face me. “Tell me that today’s the day.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, knees bopping restlessly under the table, as I kept my eyes glued to my boyfriend’s back. “Today’s the day.”

He was sitting two rows ahead of me with Neasa Murphy, slumped in his chair, looking mildly amused at whatever she was saying to him.

“Would you stop glaring at her like she pissed in your cornflakes?” Casey whisper-hissed, dragging my attention back to her, as she peeled my fingers off the pencil I was squeezing. “He has to sit with her. It’s assigned seating, babe.”

“He was with her before.”

“So? That was a million years ago.”

“I hate her.”

“No, you don’t,” she scoffed. “That’s your hormones talking.”

“No, I really do.” I turned to look at my best friend. “I hate everyone he’s been with.”

“Then you hate a lot of females in this classroom,” Casey laughed.

“Funny.”

“So, you’re really going to tell him?”

Ignoring the anxiety clawing at my throat, I nodded. “Tonight. When he comes over after work.”

“Oh, my Jesus, talk about a squeaky bum moment,” she strangled out. “Do you have a speech planned?”

“It’s more of a ‘My birth control failed, you’re going to be a daddy, please don’t leave me’ rambling plea than a speech.”

“Aoif.” She placed her hand on my arm. “He’s not going to leave you.”

“Yeah?” I blew out an anxious breath. “I really hope you’re right, Case.”

We were interrupted then by Charlie, who leaned over his desk behind us and tapped Casey’s shoulder. “Mack wants to know what’s happening with Alec.”

“Huh?”

“Alec,” he repeated. “Are you with him or something?”

Casey and I looked at each other in confusion before turning back to Charlie. “I’m not—’

“Why does Mack want to know?” I quickly clamped a hand over my best friend’s mouth and asked. “What’s it to him who Casey’s seeing?”

“Why do ya think?” Charlie winked. “He’s clearly still bananas about her.”

“Is that so?” I eyeballed her. “Did you hear that, Case? Cha says that old Mackie boy is still bananas about you.”

“Yeah, well, you can tell Mack that I’m seeing someone,” Casey replied, peeling my fingers off her face. “So, he can take his banana back to his side of town.”

“Alec?”

“Nope.”

“Then who are you seeing?” Charlie asked, leaning in close.

“That’s for me to know and you to replace out,” she replied, tapping her nose.

“No, seriously.” I frowned. “Who are you seeing?”

She gave me a look that said get with the program before rolling her eyes. “Now, off you go.” Waving him away from us, she turned back in her seat, taking me with her. “I’m not seeing anyone, but he doesn’t need to know that.”

“But you like Mack.”

“Meh.”

“And Alec?”

She shrugged. “So many boys, so little of sixth year left.”

“You’re terrible,” I laughed.

Another tap came, but this time it was on my shoulder.

“You rang,” I said, mimicking Lurch’s voice, as I turned in my seat to replace Charlie looking at me expectantly. “What’s up, Cha?”

“I have a friend who heard a rumor that you and Lynchy were on the outs.” Smirking, he added, “And my friend wants to know if there was any truth to it.”

“Oh, really.” I grinned. “And why would your friend want to know that?”

“Because my friend thinks you are hands down the best-looking girl at school.”

“Does your friend have a death wish?” Casey laughed. “Because my friend’s boyfriend will kill you dead, Cha. Dead, I tell you.”

“So, he’s still your—’

“You can tell your friend that I’m flattered, but I’m still very much taken.”

“And you can also tell your friend that his friend has an impressive set of balls on him to attempt a steal on Joey’s Lynch’s girlfriend,” Casey snickered. “I mean, seriously.”

Charlie shrugged sheepishly. “It was worth a shot.”

“God loves a trier,” Casey agreed, eyes dancing with mischief. “But Aoife loves Joey.”

Taking my sweet time returning to my last class of the day, after being excused to use the toilet, I dawdled outside the girls bathroom, admiring the latest aesthetic offering of art on display in the main hall, courtesy of the leaving cert art class.

Reluctant to return to my business class, because I had a handle on ABQ’s like I had a handle on my life, I dragged my heels, pausing every couple of moments to inspect a picture hanging on the walls, or pretending to read the latest newsletter.

When I passed the boys bathroom, and heard the sound of coughing, I felt myself halt in my tracks again, but this time, I wasn’t lingering without purpose.

No, because I recognized that cough.

Filled with mischief, I slipped inside the bathroom, tiptoeing past the row of empty cubicles. Ignoring the stench of urine coming from the disgustingly yellow-stained urinals, I reached the cubicle at the end, the one with access to the window. The door was slightly ajar, and I ever so gently pushed it inwards until I had just enough of a view to see Joey. However, any notions I had of mischief quickly died when my eyes took in the sight before me.

With one knee resting on the closed toilet lid, Joey leaned in close to the windowsill, and, with the rolled-up fiver in his hands, snorted a line of white powder up his nose.

Frozen in horror, and unable to make a single sound, I watched as he rested his elbows on the window, and dropped his head in his heads, sniffing and twitching his nose, as he exhaled a sigh of what sounded an awful lot like relief.

Minutes ticked by where I just stood there, watching as the tension in his shoulders slowly loosened and his body began to sway.

A small groan escaped his lips then, and he heaved himself closer to the window, resting his weight heavily against it now.

As his high took over and his body grew limp, I felt my heart shrivel up and die in my chest.

I couldn’t go through this with him again.

Not now there was a baby involved.

My hand moved to the slight swell of my stomach, and, for the first time since realizing the mess I was in, I felt a surge of something peculiar rise up inside of me.

Something that felt an awful lot like protectiveness for the baby growing inside of me.

Something that felt an awful lot like love.

Something that grew hotter and fiercer with every breath I took.

The protective feeling was so strong, so dominant and potent, that it felt almost carnal in nature, as it eclipsed the fear that had kept me burying my head in the sand these past few weeks.

I’m pregnant, I suddenly realized, as if it genuinely only registered in my brain at this very moment that I was, in fact, having a baby.

His baby, my mind chorused, as my eyes looked on in horror at the boy bombed out in the cubicle, you’re having his baby.

Look at him.

Look at what you’ve attached yourself to.

Taking a minute to regain my composure, to absorb the multitude of feelings rushing through me, I cleared my throat and pushed the door in enough to let him know that I was there.

Swaying against the windowsill, Joey turned his head to look at me.

“Molloy,” Joey slurred, mashing his lips together, as he squinted and strained to focus on my face.

“I’m not doing this with you again.”

His brows slowly furrowed and he tilted his head to one side, clearly trying to make sense of my words in the fog of his mind. It took him longer than usual to register what I had said before he slowly shook his head. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh yeah, because I’ve clearly read the room all wrong,” I choked out, gesturing wildly to where he was slumped. “I can’t.” I shook my head, feeling the threat of my emotions brimming to the surface, desperate to explode out of me. “I can’t go through this with you again.”

“Then keep walking,” he mumbled, still swaying unsteadily, as he tried to straighten himself up, only to fail miserably and land on the closed toilet. “Because I am what I am.”

His words were like a slap across the face and I flinched. “You are what you are?”

“Yeah.” Shaking his head, he tried to climb to his feet again, and this time, he was successful. “So just walk the fuck away, Molloy.”

Ouch.

“You’re telling me to walk away when you can’t even walk a straight line.” I narrowed my eyes in disgust. “Look at the state of you.”

“You said that you can’t do this with me again,” he slurred, as he half-walked, half- staggered out of the cubicle, reaching for the wall to steady himself when his balance went. “But it’s the same for me.” Brows furrowed, he shook his head again, looking completely spaced out, as he tried and failed to focus on my face. “I can’t do this with you, either.”

Forget being slapped by his words; I was being stabbed by them. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I should have stayed the fuck away when we ended it at Christmas,” he slurred, aiming his words at my heart like bullets. “Instead of dragging this bullshit out for another three months.”

“And I presume this bullshit you’re referring to is me?” I swallowed down the lump in my throat before hissing, “Well, fuck you, Joey Lynch.”

I turned around to leave then, only to halt in my tracks when his arm came around my waist, pulling me back against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He exhaled a heavy breath and tightened his arm around my body. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did,” I squeezed out, trembling all over, as I resisted the urge to sag against him, because, let’s face it, he could barely hold himself up in this moment. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

“I know.” A pained groan escaped him and he dropped his head to rest on my shoulder. “I know, baby.”

“You’re hurting me.”

He groaned in pain. “Shh, stop saying that.”

“This hurts me, Joey.”

Another pained groan escaped his lips. “No, no, no, I would never hurt you.”

“You hurt yourself and that’s the same thing,” I choked out. “Because when you hurt, I hurt. When you burn, I go down in flames with you. We’re entwined, Joe. We’re mirrors. Don’t you get that by now?”

“Ah fuck.” Trembling violently, he pulled me closer. “I’m sorry for hurting ya, Molloy.”

“Listen to me, Joe; I really need you to sort your shit out, okay?” Shivering when I felt his lips brush against my ear, I clenched my eyes shut and tried to steady my nerves. “Because remember when I said I didn’t need you before?” I clenched my eyes shut and squeezed out, “Well, I definitely need you now, okay?”

“No, you don’t,” he mumbled, as his hand moved to splay over my stomach, causing everything inside of me to twist up in knots. “I’m the bullshit, Molloy. I’m the fucking bullshit in this relationship. You bring all the good, and I bring all the bad.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“Regardless,” I croaked out. “I need you to draw a line under whatever the hell this is, and come back to me, okay? Because I’m, ah…” Exhaling a ragged breath, I let my head fall back and stared up at the ceiling as I tried to replace the words. “I’m having a – I mean we’re having…” Ugh. Shivering violently, I practically spat the words, “a baby,” out of my mouth in a breathy rush.

”A baby,” he repeated slowly, voice slurred. “Where’s the baby?”

“In here,” I croaked out, reaching down to cover the hand he had splayed over my belly.

“In you?”

With my entire body rigid with tension, I forced a small nod.

“What’s it doing in there?”

“You put it there, Joe.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.” I blew out a shaky breath. “You did.”

“Well shit,” he slurred, nuzzling my neck with his nose. “I’m sorry, Molloy. I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you mad?”

“Hm?”

“Mad, Joe,” I repeated, swallowing down a surge of hysteria. “Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not mad,” he murmured drowsily.

“Are you hearing me?”

“Hm?”

“Joe?”

“Hm?”

“You’ll remember this, right?” Turning around to face him, I cupped his face between my hands, and forced him to look at me. “This conversation.” I reiterated when he didn’t respond. When his black eyes stared straight through me. “Me?”

“Sure.” Hooking an arm around my waist, he, once again, buried his face in my neck and released a sigh of contentment. “You smell like home.”

This was pointless.

He wasn’t here.

At least, his mind wasn’t present.

“Come on,” I cleared my throat and said, “I’ll take you somewhere to sleep it off.”

“I thought you were done with me,” he replied, pressing the softest of kisses to my neck. “I thought he took you away from me.” Exhaling a pained groan, he buried his face in my neck. “I’ve fucked it again, Molloy.”

“I’m not done with you, Joe,” I squeezed out, shivering. “And it’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

“So will you, Molloy.” His arms tightened around my body, and even in his altered state of mind, he somehow managed to say the right thing. “Because I’ll look after the both of you.”

My breath hitched. “You promise?”

He nodded. “I promise.”

Moments later, Joey’s legs gave out beneath him, and he went crashing to the floor.