Unmarked: Sean's Story (Chosen #4) (11 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Sean

By the end of that week, we were both dragging. I had to work Friday night and she called to see if I would be picking her up. I wanted to go down. I really did but I was so damn tired. Throughout the entire week, I had only slept eight hours total. I was worthless at work on Tuesday and I honestly didn’t know how I would draw a straight line on paper, let alone work on a tattoo. Aoife was really disappointed but I almost feared for the life of others driving on the road with me and told her I just couldn’t.

When I got to The Ink Shop, I asked about the weekend openings and there weren’t very many for some reason. I hadn’t taken a vacation since I had opened the damn place almost five years earlier, so I told them that I would give out my clients to a few of the artists that were solid and rearrange the longer projects for later on. I needed a week of sleep. And that’s what I intended to do. I showed up at The Ink Shop around six o’clock and left after one client and dealing with Clove to rearrange the rest. Everyone was happy. The boss man wouldn’t be around, some of the smokes would get extra cash, and I would have a solid week of sleeping with my babe.

I didn’t call her as I headed straight to her after I left work. It was late and even if she had decided to go out, she had given me a key during the week. I just wanted our bed in our room in our apartment in the city. It felt more like my room than my actual room felt. I was a total sucker for sleeping with her. Those few hours we did rest, Aoife fit so perfect underneath my armpit and I always put my chin on top of her head so that every part of our body was touching. We were fucking beautiful together. I didn’t know what my life was like before I had met her and well… what was to come? Yeah, I knew I was screwed. I didn’t care. She was here now and I was driving to her.

I found a regular parking spot and nearly crawled to the door. It was open and I heard someone yelling. I poked my head in and noticed that Aoife’s front door was also open and I quickly moved into her apartment. She was yelling. No, she wasn’t yelling, she was screeching. Her words were slurred and she sounded like someone had just insulted her in the worst way. She was verbally bitch-slapping whoever was on the receiving end. I rounded the corner discreetly. Her face was in her palm as she sat at the card table I had brought over. She was on her cell phone and I could hear a man’s voice coming through the other end.

“No, Da. You tell them that I am not there and I won’t be back for weeks. You tell them that you will have the money in a few days and bloody hell, Da - you aren’t to use the money for the whisky this time. I can’t have ya out on the street. You wouldn’t like it. Please, Da,” she stopped talking and it looked like it was physically painful to listen. She started squeezing her stomach, then tracing lines over her stomach where I knew her scars were.

For some reason, that motion she made with her hands broke me. I must have made some kind of noise because her watery, unfocused eyes found mine and her jaw dropped at my pained face that I felt. She clicked the phone off almost immediately.

“Who was that?” I demanded.

“You know who it was.”

“Why does he need money, Aoife?” Still demanding, still pissed at seeing her squeeze her stomach.

“To live, Sean. They all – we all – need the money to live. If not, we die. We need money for our drink and our food and for our lives. If you don’t have money, your mam can’t get help for her disease and she dies.”

I shook my head. “Who is coming for the money, Aoife?”

She stood up, swaying a bit and shook her fists as she put the phone down on the breakfast nook with gentle precision. She might be loaded but she was still very conscious of what she was doing.

“There are boys in my neighborhood that sometimes bet on things with my da. He does a lot of really bad things.”

I nodded and then flicked my eyes at the half bottle of whisky laid out on the card table. I hadn’t even noticed that.

“Did you drink all that yourself?” I asked. Her head flipped around and nodded as she looked back at me.

“Ye. Do you want a drink?”

I nodded slowly, not knowing what the hell to do or think. I was too tired. I came here to snuggle with my sweet Irish Aoife. I got a pissed off and drunk daughter that could hardly walk.

She poured me a half a glass full and my eyes widened as she kept pouring.

“Okay, that’s good to start with, sweetheart,” I said as I pulled the bottle from the cup and out of her hands.

“See, you call me sweetheart and that is just so nice. You are an American man, sweet and fucking gorgeous. You are amazing in bed and God, you have the most beautiful cock, but I can’t have you,” she squeezed her eyes together as she tried to grip at something in the air.

I took a swill from the cup and holy fuck – that was some strong shit.

“Baby, you can have me as long as you want me. I took a week off from work. I want you. I can sleep with you every night, if
you
want me.”

“You are here for me? To stay?” She started getting a little whiny. “I don’t need your money because I make a lot of money here in Boston, in America.”

I tried to wrap my brain around that statement but came up empty. Yeah, she was friggin’ wasted. I just smiled at her. She was adorable even when inebriated.

“And you like me even though, I have these,” she whined as she stripped her white tee shirt off and reveal not only scars across her stomach but pieces of skin on her chest that looked like it had been bitten off or…cut…out? Holy mother of all that was holy in this entire world.

I abruptly stood, knocking the cup of whisky over and went to her. She had a blank look on her face as she watched my movements. I held up my hands in surrender.

“Aoife. I want to hold you, baby. Can I please hold you?” I asked – a tremor at the end of each word. She closed her eyes and one tear fell over her cheek.

I couldn’t move. All I saw was the purple discoloration of those pieces of skin and that one cut between her breasts that looked so deep and never cared for. She rubbed at that one as I watched her and I couldn’t fucking take it anymore.

I knelt down in front of her and started on the small cuts. With every kiss I made to one, another choking sound came out of her throat. It almost sounded like she was gagging as she let me love on her hate. Lick her ugly. She wasn’t ugly. She wasn’t hateful. She was… cut into pieces and left to heal in the only way she knew how. Alone. Hidden.

Why had she uncovered herself for me? Would I have done this so soon? She was so brave. Maybe so drunk, but so damn brave. I picked her up after soothing every inch of her belly and took her to our bed.

“Can we go to sleep now, sweetheart?” I grinned down at her mess of a face, looking scared and vulnerable, like a child that had lost their mother forever.

She wrapped her thin arms around my neck and nodded into my neck. “I think I might be in love with you,” she whispered.

“I think I might be in love with you, too,” I stated. I wanted her to hear it. It wasn’t a whisper. It was a bold declaration.

She looked at me wide-eyed while I lay her down on her side of the bed. I took off her pants and underwear in one sweep. I was undressed by the time I made it to the other side of the bed where I got underneath and immediately drew her naked body against mine. I kissed her shoulders – I kissed her chest, scars and all. I intertwined our fingers together and let her head fall on my chest. Within minutes, her heavy breathing became a small snore and that’s how I found out that not only was I really in love for the first time ever in my life but that I was in love with a victim of emotional and physical abuse.

I was way in over my head. I was scared for myself but I wouldn’t leave. Life wasn’t tranquil and uncomplicated. It got messy and unclear at times. This was one of those times. Life handed out genuine consequences for reckless choices. Fair trade to the common person, yes, but to those still in the mix, fair wasn’t a word spoken without a negative inference. We, as family members, were the byproduct of their choices and we suffered just as greatly. Aoife suffered the most and she never got to choose. She was either one big problem or one absolute solution for her family.

My cell phone buzzed from my jeans on the floor and I turned to see if I could grab at them. Aoife turned over to face the other side and that’s when I saw the other half of her marks. All up and down and across were slash marks, scarred over and over again. I couldn’t figure out what the weapon was as I traced each one with my fingers but it was something small. It had to have hurt when they did it to her. There was no fucking way she could have cut herself on her back.

“I want to learn how to kick a guy in the balls,”
I remembered her saying as we walked to Maverick’s every day we went this week. She was all business while I, the biggest dumbass in world history, got my rocks off on watching her little ass wiggle in those yoga pants.

My cell phone buzzed again, indicating there was a voicemail. I grabbed it and saw that Lizzie had called and left a message. Lizzie. This had to be what she was talking about. Had Freddie ever seen her scars? A person only had to see one to know that something wasn’t right.

I bypassed the message and got out of bed. I left the bedroom as the phone started ringing.

“Sean?” Lizzie answer was pleasant. She didn’t sound mad or hurt. Same old Lizzie O’Malley. Tough as nails.

“Hey, Lizzie,” I said on an exhale. For some reason, it felt good to talk to my friend.

“Did she tell you about her father?” she asked. I could tell she was holding her breath. But she knew I knew in the way I answered her call.

“Basically,” I said.

“It’s really messed up, Sean. It isn’t a good scene.”

“Yeah. I know. But Lizzie, I have feelings for her. Like, I think she might be the one.” I chewed on my thumb as I waited for her advice. She was always willing to dish it and so I waited. And waited.

Nothing.

“You have absolutely nothing to say, Lizzie? Come on! Think of all the God damn times I was there for you,” I basically growled into the phone.

“Yeah, no. I am here. I am trying to process what you said. It’s a little hard to hear. It sort of feels like I am reliving the whole Teagan thing. I fell hard just so he could leave, you know? She has to go home, Sean. She doesn’t live in this country.”

There was a lot of silence again. It was comfortable though. We were both trying to find a solution for me to be with Aoife? For me to be happy? Fuck, I wasn’t happy now – just learning what I did about the damage to her body. I would kill that motherfucker with my own hands.

“How about we do a double date tomorrow night? I will get the kids to do sleepovers and the four of us can go to the North End for pasta and cannolis, like old times.” She offered, sounding hopeful.

One day at a time thinking? Or did she want to bear witness to the disaster that was Sean and Aoife?

“Yeah, sure. I am sure Aoife will be cool with it,” I answered. “We will meet you at your place at seven. Have your millionaire boy toy get a good reservation.”

Lizzie busted out laughing. “I wish. Do you know what marriage does to boys?”

I shook my head. Did I want to know?

“Tomorrow at seven,” I stated.

“Just take it easy, Sean. You guys have plenty of time to figure it out, okay? We will see you guys tomorrow.”

We clicked off and I hung my head. I threw my phone on the table next to the whisky bottle and headed back to bed where I tucked every part of Irish’s body into mine.

Sometime later that night, I woke up to a stifled sob. A whimper and then a clear hit to my groin as Aoife’s whole body writhed in pain. It was unnatural and as I tried to grab on to what was happening, I shot straight up in obvious pain. She hadn’t gotten a full on good knee jab in but it physically impaired me for a few lasting minutes. I took ragged breaths to calm the pain and looked over to find Aoife was still twisting and turning. The perspiration coming off her skin smelled of flowers and whisky. Her short curls stuck to the back of her neck as she tried to grip at the covers, the pillow, anything that she could.

“Sean, baby. I love you. I miss you, love. It is me and you for always,” she whimpered out. She repeated those sentiments over and over as I sat there stunned, just watching her. Her dream, no, her nightmare was ripping her apart and I was the ass face that was just watching.

A lump formed in my throat as I thought about the night we had just shared and what she had showed me. Did she think I would leave because of her welts and scars? No fucking way. I was mystified and grabbed on to that fast acting bond she and I had. Obviously, it was affecting her because she was subconsciously thinking of it in nightmares. I wanted to be happy that she felt the same way but I just couldn’t. She was acting like it was a traumatic event, a relationship that was meant to be broken. My chest ached.

I pulled her close to me with all of my strength. I put my lips right into her ear.

“Baby. Aoife. I love you, too. You are okay. You and I are together now. Please don’t be sad. I have no regrets. No regrets.”

Her body went limp against mine and her breath returned to a normal resting sleep pattern.

“No regrets,” I soothed to her over and over again as I, too, fell back into a deep sleep.