Covet

When I woke up the next morning, my hangover was as bad as I thought it’d be. I was upset to begin with, but even more as I remembered that I was supposed to go over to Paddy’s house again that day.

I dragged my ass out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen, my socks making it easy to slide across the hard word floor so I didn’t have to muster up the energy to legitimately walk. I was still wearing the same clothes from the night before; my black button down shirt was twisted slightly on my torso and I didn't even want to know how horrendous my bed hair was.

When I made it into the kitchen Tommy was still there, leaning against the counter.

“Good morning,” I croaked, my dry throat protesting against the action. I grabbed the hairband on my wrist and put my hair into a bun that was more likely to resemble some crazy form of a blonde nest on top of my head than anything else.

He nodded once. “You look lovely this morning.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm, Tommy,” I countered sharply.

He chuckled and pushed against the counter to walk over to me. “Can I make you some coffee?” he offered, making me raise my eyebrows and frown.

“You’re awfully chipper,” I pointed out. I walked over to the counter and put my hands on it, lifting myself up to sit down on it.

“You look like you’re going to die,” he shrugged. “Are you afforded the luxury of staying home today?”

I shook my head lightly and sighed. “Nah, I wish.” My eyes squinted as I looked up to the clock: 11 a.m. I lowered myself from the counter and looked up at him. “I should walk you back to Brendon’s.”

“That’s a long walk just to drop me off…” he trailed off.

“I told Paddy I’d go back over today,” I explained. I walked over to the coffee table and slipped my same shoes on from yesterday.

When I turned around, I saw a sour expression on Tommy’s face. He didn’t say anything; he just walked out my front door and began making his way down the staircase. I quickly grabbed my purse and chased after him, catching up with him on the sidewalk.

“The fuck was that?” I asked, causing him to shrug and stuff his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Was it because I brought up your dad?”

He was silent for a minute, but he had a thoughtful expression on his face. He was choosing his words carefully.

“I just really do not understand why you waste your time. He goes around with his sob stories and his ‘I’ve changed’ bullshit, but he’s still rotten,” he spat. “Girl like you shouldn’t bother.”

“Girl like me?” I repeated. “Tommy, I swear, from what I’ve seen, he really isn’t a bad guy. I mean, I obviously have no idea what you know about him that I don’t-”

“That’s exactly it,” he cut me off. “You don’t fucking know. Ask him. Ask him what he’s done to me. No, to Brendon, and Ma, and my whole family. He’s a monster,” he fumed, anger seeming to radiate in waves off his body.

From the time he said that to the time we reached Brendon’s house, I still didn’t know what to say to him. As we approached the driveway, Tommy began walking away from me, toward the house.

“Hey, wait!” I called out, running forward a few steps to grab his arm. He turned to look at me, and even though he had an angered expression, I swear his eyes looked hurt. “I’m sorry about whatever he did to you, Tommy,” I told him sincerely, still holding onto his elbow. It was when he looked down to my hand that I finally removed it.

“Last night, you asked me how he was.”

“Am I not allowed to be curious?” he countered, catching me off guard.

“Well yeah, you are, but there has to be more reasoning than simple curiosity-”

“That’s all it was, I can assure you,” he interrupted again before turning around and walking inside, leaving me to stand there confused with a headache worse than before.

*

Paddy greeted me at his door with a warm hug.

“Hailey, how are you?” he asked as he let me inside. I looked around and it appeared as though he had made some cleaning progress on his own.

“Hey, did you…?”

He stood beside me and grinned widely. “Dusted off the furniture and picture frames,” he boasted, making me laugh.

“Good going, Paddy,” I patted his arm gently and went to sit down on the couch, feeling slightly lightheaded from the long walk.

“You feeling okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” I assured halfheartedly. “I just went to that bar on 57th with Tommy and-” I stopped myself. “I went out last night,” I restarted, rubbing my eyes and yawning. “My head’s not feeling too good.” I managed a hard laugh, though, and looked up at him.

He knew where I was going with my sentence. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to know how his own son was doing, and in the mere few days Tommy had been in the Burg, I was already placed in the middle of their relationship- or lack there of.

The second afternoon in a row was spent cleaning Paddy’s place, but it was far more silent than the first one. I so desperately yearned to know what Tommy knew, to know what he’s seen and heard. At the same time, I could tell that Paddy yearned to talk to his son again for reasons other than some stupid fighting tournament. It always hurt to see damaged relationships in front of me; it made me feel helpless and hurt during a time when all I wanted was to help the two others who were hurt.

Tommy put on this façade that he didn’t care; that he was tough and didn’t give interest about much except for his brother and whatever was back home in Texas, but I saw through it. I knew that whatever Paddy did to him hurt more deeply than I could ever grasp, and it’s made him into who he currently was.

I think what I hated most was that while I was in the process of unintentionally wedging myself between Tommy and Paddy, and I suppose the whole Conlon family in general, I had an opportunity to at least attempt to fix things; to make them better, bearable even. I just knew I’d never take that opportunity.

I’d keep my nose down and my mouth shut, because even though there was a side of me that ached to help, it was none of my damn business.