I turned and unlocked my front door, and then he was suddenly in front of me and racing through the house while I stood stupidly in the doorway.
“Yer good. Lock de door and don’t leave de house until I come back for ye,” he told me with a quick kiss to my forehead. He started down the steps before turning to face me. “And close yer fuckin’ window!” Then he was gone.
I’d been so eager to get home when I’d woken up, but suddenly I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I locked the door behind him and stood in the middle of the living room, looking around as if I’d never seen any of the contents before. I felt like I should take a shower or something, but I couldn’t make myself move away from the front door.
What if he came back? What if he needed me? What if Peg needed me and I couldn’t hear the door? The questions were asinine. I knew Patrick was fully capable of taking care of things on his own, but that didn’t seem to slow my racing heart.
I wasn’t sure what I’d witnessed at Peg’s, but I knew it was bad. Peg hadn’t seen her husband in years, and she’d told me that she preferred it that way. I’d gathered from small comments she’d made that the life he lived wasn’t one she wanted to share.
So why was he there?
My mind wandered back to the look on Patrick’s face when Robbie walked through the door, and all of a sudden I was reminded of the way he’d looked at the man he’d found me with the day before. I shuffled to the side and dropped inelegantly to the couch, raising my hand to my mouth as I thought of the many emotions I’d seen on Patrick’s face in such a short amount of time.
Holy God, how had this become my life? My memory flashed from waking up to Patrick yelling at me, his bare chest, the way he’d teased me on our way to Peg’s, the man who’d shown up the day before on some sordid errand for my parents, Patrick stepping into my house like some sort of avenging angel and making the guy leave… and finally the way he’d lifted my fingers to his mouth and slid them inside.
My stomach clenched at the memory.
Chapter 9
Amy
I’d long ago showered and was sitting on the couch reading when I finally heard a knock on the front door. It had to be close to three in the afternoon already, my parents had called to say they wouldn’t be home for dinner¸ and I’d been pacing the house like a caged animal for hours. Part of me was infuriated that Patrick and Peg had kicked me out and ordered me to stay home, but another part—a small voice in the back of my head—was telling me that I needed to stay far away from the Gallaghers. Something was going on with them that was way bigger than the odd sort of friendship we’d formed, and I had enough of my own problems to deal with.
I hurried to the door and slid the lock back, but before I do anything else, it was being pushed open from the other side and there was Patrick. His t-shirt was stretched to hell at the neck, and his arms were crossed at his chest, causing the muscles to bulge. He looked… messy, unkempt.
When my eyes finally met his, I swallowed harshly. He was angry. Really angry, and I had no idea why. But before I could say a word, his hands were wrapped around my waist and he was pushing me roughly into the house. He kicked the door closed behind him right before my back slammed against the wall.
“What de fuck are ye doin’ answerin’ de door before ye know who’s out dere?” he scolded before reaching up to grasp my jaw. “I coulda been anyone! Bad shite happens when ye aren’t fuckin’ careful Amy! Yer not livin’ in America anymore. Yer in Ireland, yeah? Dere ain’t no safe place in Ireland.”
His voice quieted to a whisper on the last words, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he was in pain. I knew things in Ireland were bad and getting worse. I saw things on the news and in the papers all the time… but it hadn’t really touched my life. I was an American teenage girl who rarely left the house, so it didn’t really have anything to do with me. What the hell was going on? My throat grew tight as I watched him try to pull himself together, and without conscious thought, I reached up to cup my palm over his cheek.
His eyes opened and his mouth hit mine just seconds later, my breath hitching as his tongue licked into my surprised mouth. He tasted like peppermint candy and his breath was hot against the lower half of my face as he pulled back slightly and bit my lower lip.
“Touch me.” He groaned frantically, leaning his forehead against mine as he let go of my body so he could pull my hand off his face and under the neck of his t-shirt.
I wasn’t sure what I should be doing, but the aggression in his kiss had flipped some sort of switch in my brain, because without any conscious thought, I’d fisted one of my hands in his hair while the other wrapped around his back and dug in. His hands swept up and down my sides, eventually running down my ass and squeezing it gently as we kissed. I wasn’t sure whether I should be embarrassed at where his hands were or climb him like a monkey, so I picked somewhere in between and slipped my hand under his shirt and scratched my nails up his back.
As Patrick moaned against my mouth and pressed his hips against mine, we heard the front door open once again and the sound of someone clearing their throat. I ripped my face away to glance toward the intruder and my face grew hot.
“Trick,” Kevie called as Patrick dropped his forehead to my shoulder and relaxed his hands against me, sliding them to the top of my jeans.
“Get de fuck outta here,” he mumbled toward my chest, causing my nipples to bead. Great, now my nipples were poking through my shirt, and right in front of a priest, no less.