JOEY

AFTER SPENDING a grand total of seven minutes in front of the judge, John Kavanagh not only had my case thrown out, but had somehow managed to coerce a judge – a fucking judge – to take pity on me enough to apologize to me.

If I wasn’t drowning in the unbearable pain of my latest comedown, I would have been seriously impressed with the man’s powers of persuasion.

Completely fucking reeling, I sat in the passenger seat of his high-end Mercedes after court, too overwhelmed to argue when he took me back to the manor.

I needed something. Anything to take the edge off.

The adrenalin that had been pumping through my veins earlier had long since deserted me, leaving my body cold to the bone and every muscle attached to me aching. It didn’t seem to matter how fiercely my mind protested or my heart resisted; the physical pain from withdrawals was too goddamn much for me to handle.

I hated myself for not being strong enough to push it down anymore, but it was too big for me.

It was too big of a fight. I couldn’t win.

“Sit down, Joey love,” Edel instructed when I walked into her kitchen a

little while later. Feeling like an intruder I wanted to be just about anywhere else. “How are you feeling? How’s your face? How did court go? Oh, you poor love, you’re all battered and bruised.”

“Give the boy some breathing space, sweetheart,” John said, following me over to the island. “Sit down, Joey. We can talk.”

I didn’t want to sit down. I wanted to talk even less.

But I owed the man my freedom.

If a conversation was all he wanted as payment for keeping my ass out of prison, then I would gladly give it to him.

Slumping down on a stool at the island, I had to resist the urge to lash out and react when his wife literally put her hands on my head.

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the donkey,” she strangled out, investigating my scalp like a mother would check their child’s hair for lice. “What happened to your skull?” she demanded, pushing clumps of my hair aside, as she trailed her fingers over my head.

My father happened.

“Edel,” John said in a slightly sterner tone. “He’s not Johnny, sweetheart.

You can’t touch the boy like that.” “But he’s—”

“Sweetheart.”

“Right, right.” Thankfully, she removed her hands and took a step back, giving me some personal space. “Sorry, Joey love.”

“It’s grand,” I said trying to appease her and wanting them to know that I was grateful for their weird intrusion on my life. Even if I couldn’t stop the full body shudder that rolled through me. “I’m ah, I just…I’m not a hugger.”

“Not a hugger,” she repeated, sounding like she was storing that piece of information safely away. “Got it, love. No hugs.”

“Relax,” John coaxed, giving his wife a wink. “Just be yourself, sweetheart.”

“I’m trying,” she replied, as she buzzed around the kitchen like a tiny blonde whirlwind, fetching cups and saucers. “I’m just nervous.”

“Why?” I asked, instantly on edge. My gaze flicked to John. “What’s going on?”

“Remember earlier, when I said that we would talk after court?” John answered, tone eerily calming.

I nodded stiffly, hackles rising.

“Well,” he continued to coax. “My wife and I have been doing a lot of talking lately, and we wanted to speak to you about the possibility of—”

“We want to keep you!” his wife blurted out, causing John to drop his head in his hands and groan. “All five of you,” she continued, hurrying over to the island and catching ahold of my hand. “Especially you.” She smiled down at me. “I think I want you the most.”

“The fuck?” I choked out, yanking my hand out from under hers. “What are you…” Shaking my head, I practically fell off the stool in my bid to get

away from this strange woman and her hands-on nature. “You want to keep me?”

“Tact, sweetheart,” John groaned, biting down on his fist. “Where’s the tact we talked about?”

“I forgot,” she argued before turning her attention back to me. “That didn’t come out right, Joey love.”

“Listen.” I held a hand up to warn her off. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Keeping my back to the kitchen cupboards, I stepped sideways in my bid to escape the second coming of Mother Teresa. “And how good you’ve been to my sister, but I’m not interested in anything else, okay? I don’t need anyone… keeping me. So, I’m going to go home now.”

“She means fostering,” John explained with a sigh. “Edel, would you back up, sweetheart, and give the boy space. You can’t crowd him, remember? Baby steps.”

“Oh Jesus, yes,” she mumbled, hurrying to her husband’s side. “Of course, I’m sorry, Joey love.”

“Fostering.” I stared blankly at them. “The fuck?”

“We’re already approved,” Edel blurted out. “We’ve been foster parents before. It’s not our first time, love. And we can offer you stability and safety and—”

“No!” I choked out, practically climbing the wall backwards in my bid to escape. “Jesus Christ, no.” Panic stricken, I looked around uncertainly before locking eyes on John. “I want to leave.”

“You can leave any time,” he assured me, keeping a firm hand on his wife’s shoulder, who looked like she was seconds away from springing

towards me. “Right now, if you wish.”

“Good.” Blowing out a shaky breath, I cagily walked to the utility room door that led to the back door, only to hesitate when I reached for the door handle.

No, wait.

Hear them out.

Think of the kids.

Jesus Christ, what was I doing?

Run, lad.

Get the fuck out of this place.

“When you say you want to foster us.” Turning around, I eyed them warily. “Are you offering my siblings a home?” I looked around. “Here?”

“We’re offering all of you a home,” John replied. “Sean, Ollie, Tadhg, Shannon, and you, Joey.”

“I don’t…” Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I quickly shook my head. “No.”

I could see the devastation flash across his wife’s face, and I felt like a prick.

“I don’t want to be fostered,” I said slowly, trying to find the words I needed to make sense of this madness. “But I think…” Jesus Christ, why was this so fucking hard? Why couldn’t I just think clearly? “My brothers and sister might…would…need… fuck, I can’t get it out!”

“Take your time, love,” Edel said in a soothing tone. “Take all the time in the world.”

“I don’t know you,” I bit out, pinching the bridge of my nose, as I forced down a wave of nausea. “And you don’t know me.”

“We’d like to get to know you, Joey,” John said calmly. “No.” I shook my head. “Not me. I’m off the table.” Edel shook her head. “But—”

“Let the boy speak,” John cut in, giving her hand a supportive squeeze. “I’m listening, Joey.”

“I’m fucked up,” I admitted, shrugging helplessly. “And I mean I’m really fucked up in the head.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I am.” “That’s okay, love.”

“No, it’s not,” I protested with a shake of my head. “You don’t want me

in your family. Trust me. But Shannon and the boys?” I shrugged again, filled with desperation. The prospect of getting my siblings out of the shitstorm of a life we’d been born into was dangling in front of me like a gold nugget. God knows I didn’t know these people, and I wasn’t even sure if I trusted them, but right then, in the state we were in, they could offer the kids a hell of a lot more than Mam could. “They deserve a better life than the one they’ve been dealt.” Swallowing deeply, I forced myself to say, “They deserve to have parents.”

“From what I can tell, they’ve always had one,” John said, giving me a meaningful look. “You’ve been one hell of a father, Joey Lynch.”

“Except that I’m not,” I croaked out. “I’m not their father, and I’m fucking tired of having to be.” There it was. Admitted out loud. For what I

thought might be the first time ever. “I can’t do it anymore,” I continued to spill my confessions, too weary and broken in the head to cover it up. “I can’t keep raising them in that environment. If someone doesn’t get them out of that house, they’re going to die or worse, turn into me.”

“When you say die?”

“I mean die,” I confirmed, feeling weirdly liberated having adults finally listen to my worries and take me seriously. “Our father’s not done with us and our mother’s not stable enough to protect us. If they stay in that house, they’re fucked, and I don’t want that for them. So, if…fuck, I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but if you’re serious about fostering Shannon and the boys, then I won’t stand in your way.” I paused for a moment, trying to clear my thoughts, before warning, “But Darren will.”

“Ah yes,” John sighed, drumming his fingers against the marble island. “Darren.”

“He’s not in this for the long haul,” I decided to throw them a bone by saying. “He couldn’t stick it out before, so he’s even less likely to do it now that he’s had the taste of freedom. But he’s our mother’s blue-eyed prince, and his word is golden. Those two are thick as thieves, so he’ll take you on to retain his spot as mammy’s righthand man.” Folding my arms across my chest, I gave them a hard look, trying to take their measure before throwing my two cents into the mix. “The way I see it, the younger kids are crying out for change. They don’t want to be in that house with our mother any more than I do. Problem is they’ve never been offered a safer alternative.” Until now. “All four of them will fold like a deck of cards,” I added. “If they’re told they can.”

“By someone they look up to,” John filled in knowingly. “By someone they trust. By someone like you.”

“You want me to go out on a limb for you and your wife. You’re asking me to do something I’ve never been able to do before. Something I’ve been programed to never do.” Returning to the stool I’d abandoned, I sank back down and dropped my head in my hands, elbows resting on the marble countertop, as I fought my fears and tried to do the right thing. The real right thing. Not the fabricated version that had been drilled into my mind since childhood. “I want to help.”

“You do?”

With my brother’s voice inside of my head screaming no, no, no, I forced myself to nod stiffly and bit down on my fist.

Do this for them. You can save them. Get them out.

Trust these people.

“I’ll support your case. I’ll back you up with the social workers. I’ll give an honest statement to the authorities. I’ll lay all of my parents shit bare, and expose them for the neglectful pieces of shit that they are, if it means those kids don’t end up like me, but if you fuck me over? If you hurt them…” Exhaling a shaky breath, I turned my glare on John Kavanagh. “If you even think about putting your hands on my siblings, it won’t matter how much money you have, or what fancy law degrees line the walls of your office, I will come for you, and Jesus Christ himself won’t be able to save you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” John replied calmly, not taking my threat to heart. “I’m not going to promise you with words, because it’s clear to me that you’re a man of action.”

I nodded, appreciating the fact that he didn’t try to bullshit me or fob me off with empty promises.

The shrill sound of a mobile phone piercing filled the air and John quickly stood. “That’ll be the school,” he said, moving for the hallway. “Please excuse me.”

“When did it happen?” Edel asked once her husband had left the room. “When did what happen?”

“When did you lose yourself?”

“The day I was born.”

Sadness filled her eyes. “And the drugs?” I stiffened.

“I’m not blind, love,” she said in a gentle tone, inclining her head to

where I had my sleeve rolled up to my elbows. “I’m don’t come from a sheltered home, either, which means that I know track marks when I see them.”

Ashamed, I pushed my sleeves down and stared at the counter. “How long has it been since you last shot up?”

I remained silent, knowing there was no right answer to this question.

“A day? Two at the most?” Her voice was gentle and full of understanding when she asked, “Does your skin itch so bad you want to tear yourself open? Has the cold gotten into your bones so deep you feel like

you’ll never be warm again? What about the cold sweats and the nausea? Have you reached the stage where you would rather die than go without?”

“I have it under control.”

“Do you?” she sighed heavily. “Or does it have control of you?” “You don’t know me.”

“What did it start with, love? Cannabis? Prescription medication? Benzos? Uppers? Hmm? How long did those keep you sated until you moved onto something stronger like coke or fentanyl? When did you take the plunge?”

“What fucking difference does it make to you?” I spat, feeling my hackles rise, as I tried to defend the inexcusable. “I’m not hurting anyone.”

“Joey love, you deserve a good life, too,” she pushed. “Everything I want for your Shannon and your brothers, I want for you as well.”

“I’m eighteen.”

“Love, it wouldn’t matter to me if you were eighty,” she said. “We would still want that for you.”

“Well, I don’t want that for me,” I argued. “I don’t want to be mothered, and I don’t need a father figure. I’m too old for that shit.”

“You’re never too old to be loved, Joey.” “My childhood ended a long time ago.” “It doesn’t have to be like that.“

“It’s too late for me.” “It’s never too late, Joey.”

“Aoife’s pregnant,” I decided to throw out there, deciding I had nothing to lose. “I’m about three and half months away from becoming a father myself, so I appreciate the offer, but the only family I’m interested in being a part of is the one I’ve made with her.”

“Pregnant?” Edel’s eyes widened. “You don’t do things by halves, do you, Joey love?”

I shrugged in response because, in all fairness, what the fuck else could I

do?

“And where does this little habit of yours fit in with your girlfriend and

baby?”

“It clearly doesn’t,” I bit out, hating that she hit the nail on the head. “I’ll fix it.”

“Look at you,” she said, with tears filling her eyes. “Look at how articulated you are. How smart. How brave.” She smiled sadly. “You know that this is too big for you, love.” She reached across the counter and covered my hand with hers. “Let me help you.”

“No.” Jaw clenched, I shook my head. “I don’t need your help.” “Joey, love—”

“No,” I repeated, yanking my hand away. “Don’t talk about this, okay?

It’s a hard fucking limit for me.”

“Because you know you’re in trouble, love.”

“Because it doesn’t matter to you,” I snapped. “It doesn’t matter, okay?

So just drop it.”

“I think is does matter, Joey, and I think you matter, too.”

“You’re wrong,” I bit out, needing this woman to just back off. “So, just give up.”

“You’ve been traveling down a very long road, love. Maybe it’s time to rest those feet and let someone else carry the load for you?” She implored me with her eyes to listen. “Let me help you. Let me save you, Joey.”

“You can’t.” What part of that didn’t she get? “There’s nothing left to save, Mrs. Kavanagh, so please just stop.”

When her son strode into the kitchen a moment later, I could have kissed the fucking ground at his feet.

“Oh, love, you’re home.” Springing to her feet, Edel rushed for her son, thankfully taking her hugs and cuddles with her. “How was training?”

“Grand,” Kavanagh replied, accepting his mother’s kiss on the cheek. “What’s going on?”

“Are you hungry, Johnny? I’ve made roast beef with pepper sauce.”

“Jesus.” Sinking down on the stool his father had vacated, he let out a whistle and pointed to my face. “Cormac got you good.”

No, my girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend’s father got me good.

“Yeah, and I got you good,” I said instead, feeling like a piece of shit for clocking him earlier. “Sorry about that,” I offered with a shrug. “Poor communication skills.” Understatement of the century.

“So, what’s happening now?”

“I’m in a fair bit of shit,” I deadpanned. “That’s what’s happening now.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much,” he replied evenly, sounding eerily similar to his father in this moment. “Are you being charged?”

“He’s not going to be charged with anything,” his mother answered for me as she fussed at him and ruffled his hair. “Your father has made sure of that.”

Kavanagh’s brows shot up. “You’re off the hook?” “Apparently.” I shrugged again. “According to your parents.”

“Where’s your ma?” Jesus Christ, he was as nosey as his mother. “Did she go down to the station for you?”

Did she fuck.

“She’s working,” I deadpanned, knowing that a fella with parents like his could never in a million years understand my situation. He could try. He could sympathize. He could listen to all of my sister’s tales of woe. But he could never truly get it. No one could. Not unless they lived through it. “Couldn’t get through to her phone.”

“That was principal Twomey,” John announced, returning to the kitchen, phone in hand. “The school board held an emergency meeting tonight.”

“And?”

“And Bella will not be returning to Tommen to finish out the school year.”

“Thank Christ for that,” I muttered, thankful that at least something good had come from a very unproductive day. One of my sister’s bullies was gone. Permanently. I considered that to be worth the hassle. Knowing that Shannon would have one less tormentor made the whole ordeal worthwhile.

“She will be allowed to sit her leaving cert in one of the local schools, but she will not be welcome back at Tommen. Her locker has been cleared out, her phone has been confiscated, and all images she took of Shannon have

been erased,” John continued to reel off in that no-nonsense lawyer voice of his. “Natasha O Sullivan and Kelly Dunne have both been given a week’s suspension for their roles in the incident. Due to Shannon’s statements, though, and following a lot of discussion, it has been decided by the board that both girls will return to Tommen after their suspension and will be permitted to sit their exams there.”

“That’s bullshit,” we both chorused in unison.

“Pick your battles, boys. This is a good result.” Accepting the cup of coffee his wife held out for him, John kissed her before turning his attention back to us. “Take emotion out of the equation and look at the result for what it is: a win.”

“And Cormac?” Johnny pressed. “How’d you manage to pull that one off? He was hell bent on pressing charges earlier.”

“With a great deal of persuasion.”

“Well shite.” Leaning back in his chair, he let out another whistle. “Remind me to never go against you.”

“It’s not all good news. You’ve been expelled from Ballylaggin Community,” John added, turning his attention back to me. “Apparently, you were on your final warning, following seven suspensions this year alone and countless others tracing all the way back to your first week of first year.” A flicker of guilt flashed in his blue eyes when he said, “I did what I could, Joey, but they’re not budging. Committing an act of violence against another school while wearing your BCS uniform is against their policy and punishable by immediate expulsion.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, too numb to give a damn. Nyhan and Lane had been chomping at the bit for years to get me out of BCS. They finally had their

excuse. I wanted to care about it, but I just… couldn’t.

“Okay?” Kavanagh looked at me like I’d grown an extra head. “But you’re supposed to sit your leaving cert next month.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, it does,” he argued, tone passionate for a fella whose future this didn’t affect. “It does fucking matter.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere anyway, so it’s all the same to me,” I replied, which was mostly true. I never planned on college. I never planned on leaving Ballylaggin. I couldn’t, so why worry about it?

“What the hell, Joey? This is important,” my sister’s boyfriend argued. Turning back to his father, he asked, “ Is there anything you can do for him?”

“My hands are tied, son. Joey here has a record for violence that makes Gibsie look like a saint.” John sighed heavily. “They’re unwilling to negotiate having him return to school – not even to sit his exams.”

Of course they weren’t.

Those fuckers had wanted me out since first year.

“What about Tommen, love?” Edel asked, worrying her lip. “Tommen is private, sweetheart.”

“Another public school then?” their son suggested, running a hand

through his dark hair in obvious frustration, which puzzled me because why the fuck did he care?

“Not in the area,” John explained evenly. “Nothing public, at least.”

Meaning the only way that I was stepping foot inside of a school to sit my leaving cert was if I had the cash to bribe my way through the door.

“The city then?” Kavanagh, ever the optimist, suggested.

“No school will touch me with a ten-foot barge pole,” I interrupted, just about done with the whole conversation. I wasn’t his pet project. He didn’t need to find solutions to my problems. All he needed to do was treat my sister well and we were golden. “Your dad’s right, Kavanagh. My record is shocking. No one’s going to want me, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because I don’t care. So, don’t waste your breath talking about it.”

“Jaysus.” Sounding thoroughly deflated, he sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. “What a disaster.”

Yeah, this was all getting a bit too fucking chummy for me. A little too family-meeting-ish for my liking.

“Can I use your bathroom?” I asked, standing up. “Please.”

“Of course you can, Joey,” Edel replied, waving me off. “You don’t have to ask, love.”

“Thank you.” Feeling like a dick for doing what I was about to do but knowing that I honestly couldn’t handle another minute, I stopped in the kitchen doorway and added, “For everything.”

“No problem, Joey,” John called after me. “Remember what we said,” he added in a meaningful tone. “The offer’s on the table and it has no expiration date.”

“Yeah.” I nodded stiffly. “I’ll think about it.” And then I got the hell out of dodge.