Feeling faint, I hung limply over Peter Biggs’ shoulder, knowing there was a huge chance he was carrying me to my death, but not having the ability to run away either way. Not only was the man who was rescuing me my godfather, but he was my girlfriend’s father. The same girlfriend whose virginity was smeared all over my dick.
Don’t look, lad.
Don’t look.
“Are you going to kill me, Pete?”
“I haven’t decided yet, Gibs.”
“Okay, well, if you decide you are, can you give me a ten-second head start to get away.”
“You’ll be lucky if you get five.”
“I can work with five.”
“If your father was alive to see this, he would have a field day.”
“Gerard!” Claire cried out when her father set me down on the back lawn. “You’re alive!” Making a beeline for me, she dropped to her knees next to me and peppered my cheek with kisses. “It’s a miracle – oh, your poor head.” Her kisses were swiftly refocused on the huge lump that had sprouted out of my forehead. “My poor baby.”
The look our mothers were giving us as they stood side by side, with their arms crossed, assured me that I would need another miracle to make it out of here in one piece.
“Bet you wish I killed you first,” Peter muttered under his breath before walking back inside.
“Inside, Claire Biggs,” Sinead ordered before storming into the house.
“Right now, Gerard Gibson,” Mam added before stalking after her.
Ah shit.
“First and foremost, how are you feeling, Gerard?” Sinead asked, as she peeled the icepack off my forehead and winced. “Oh dear, that definitely needs more ice. Let’s just keep that on for another while.”
Yeah, I bet it did. I’d almost decapitated myself with the roof of the treehouse and was sporting a horn-shaped bump for my troubles.
While the fact that I currently looked like one of my girlfriend’s unicorn stuffed animals was disturbing, it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the two women in front of me.
“Drink up, Gerard,” my partner in crime said. Readjusting the blanket our mothers had wrapped around my shoulders after my rescue, Claire pushed the glass of 7UP I was holding to my lips. “Sugar is good for shock.”
“So, which one of you brainboxes decided it was a good idea to take off your clothes and fiddle around in the treehouse in the month of November?” Mam demanded, hands on her hips. “Well? Come on. Fess up.”
I pointed at Claire as inconspicuously as I could at the same time that she not so secretly pointed at me.
My mouth fell open. “It was your idea.”
“No.” Claire eyeballed me. “The treehouse was your idea.”
“Fair enough,” I conceded. “But the whole ladder in the bush idea was all you!”
“Ew, say tree, Gerard.”
“Tree.”
“Ladder in the tree?” Sinead questioned.
“Sex,” Claire and I groaned in unison. “It means sex!”
“Oh Jesus,” Mam groaned, covering her face with her hand. “Well, I hope you used protection, because the last thing our families need is a repeat of the Cherub and Brian fiasco!”
“We did, Sadhbh,” Claire croaked out. “And we’re both very sorry.” She elbowed my side before adding, “Aren’t we, Gerard?”
“Oh, yes.” I nodded solemnly. “We’re both very sorry and we’ll never do it again.”
“Ever,” Claire chimed in, joining me in “nodding-dog” mode. “We promise.”
“Do you think we were born yesterday?” Sinead arched a disbelieving brow. “You’ll be back at it the minute our backs are turned.”
“Exactly,” Mam agreed. “Do you know how to tell when a teenager’s lying?”
“When their lips are moving,” Sinead answered for her. “Which begs the question: what are we supposed to do with the pair of you now, hm?”
“You clearly can’t be trusted to be left alone together.”
“Which means sleepovers are certainly out of the question.”
“And you can both forget ever stepping foot in that treehouse again.”
“That’s right, Sadhbh. Over my dead body.”
“And mine, Sinead.”
“Ah Jesus,” I choked out, reaching for Claire’s hand. “They sound like they want us to get a divorce.”
“Well, that’s never going to happen,” Claire replied, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Gerard and I are life partners. You can’t break us up.”
“Yeah,” I agreed with a defensive huff, gesturing to Claire. “What she said.”
“I’ll give you life partners,” Mam grumbled, clipping me over the back of the head. “You better hope your swimmers were contained, Gerard Gibson, because if you make us grandmothers before you both come of age, I’ll take you to the same vet as Brian and have you chemically castrated.”
Being demoted to Hugh’s room was a bust but I couldn’t argue with Sinead’s reasoning. In all honesty, I was lucky to be let through the front door again, never mind being given a place to sleep at night.
Tossing and turning like a deranged lunatic, I couldn’t close an eye.
Not because of nightmares tonight.
No, because I was wired.
I knew I could go home if I wanted to.
Mark was gone, my mother had told me as much tonight. An unforeseen emergency on his wife’s side of the family was the lie he fed Mam and Keith before he slithered off like the snake he was.
A part of me was furious with myself for letting him walk away for the second time, but an even bigger part of me was so overwhelmed with relief that it took the sting off.
Because at the end of the day, I had been carrying this cross for ten long years, and I had coped fabulously. I would continue to go on coping just fine once that monster was on the other side of the world from me.
The way I saw it, I was making the best of a bad situation. The worst had already happened to me, and I’d survived.
I had built myself up from the bottom and I would rather die than let that bastard get the better of me again. I would never let him beat me again. He won the battle against the child version of me, but he would never win the war against the grown-man version of me.
The only way I could see it worsen, or him truly defeat me, was if people knew about it. That was the hill I didn’t think I could climb, and he knew that. My shame was his power hold over me and had been for a decade.
Regardless of his abrupt departure, I wasn’t ready to go back in my room. Knowing that he had been there again, touching my stuff, tainting the air … It made it hard to function.
Besides, I felt comfortable in the Biggs’ house. I always had. This house was my home from home and the girl sleeping in the room next to the one I was currently residing in made it impossible for me to leave.
Climbing out of my makeshift bed, I padded out of the room, only to make the rookie mistake of stepping on the creaky floorboard in the landing by the staircase. Within seconds, the matriarch of the house was out of bed and patrolling the landing. “Back to bed, young man.”
Like a criminal caught in the act, I raised my hand and froze on the top step of the stairs. “I was just getting a drink, I swear.”
Nodding in approval, Sinead gestured for me to continue. “No pitstops on your way back up. Straight to bed, you hear?”
“Okay.”
“I mean it, Gibs. I’ll know.”
Oh, Jesus Christ.
Climbing off the last step, I scooped up a wandering Dick. “How’s my boy?” I cooed, cuddling him to my chest. “Jesus, you even smell like her,” I mused when I dropped a kiss to his head on my way to the kitchen. “I could eat you up.”
When I flicked the kitchen light on, and the room was bathed in a dull yellow hue, I almost dropped my pussy with fright. “Jesus Christ!”
Hugh was slumped at the kitchen table with his elbows resting on it and his head in his hands.
“Where the hell did you come from?” I whisper-hissed. “I thought you were gone out when your bed was empty.” Frowning, I asked, “Where have you been, lad?”
“Around.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m grand.”
“Hugh, you’re sitting in the kitchen at three o’clock in the morning, looking like someone died.” Concern grew inside of me. “You’re clearly not okay, lad.”
“I’ve just … ” Cutting himself off, my friend blew out a breath and shook his head. “It’s grand. I’ll fix it.”
“Fix what?”
Silence.
“Fix what?” I repeated, taking a seat at the table.
“I’m in trouble, Gibs,” he whispered, head down.
“Trouble?” Setting Dick back down on the kitchen floor, I gave my oldest friend my full attention. “What kind of trouble, lad?”
“The bad kind.”
“The Joey Lynch kind?” I asked, feeling bad that my thoughts immediately shifted to Lynchy. “Is it drugs?”
“No, it’s not drugs, Gibs.”
“Then what is it, lad?”
When he didn’t respond, I stood up and repositioned myself on the chair next to his. “Hugh.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t.”
“Come on, lad, it’s me.” I gave his shoulder another squeeze. “You can tell me anything.”
He opened his mouth to respond, only to pause and then drop his head in his hands again. “Fuck it, it doesn’t matter, lad.”
“It clearly does.”
“I can’t talk about it,” he admitted, looking like a broken man. Having said that, he pushed his chair back and stood up. “I can’t even think about it.”
Without another word, he walked out of the kitchen, leaving me with nothing but unanswered questions and my pussy for company.
