joey lynch · derry girls · irish · mechanic · trauma · protective · sarcastic · tattooed · romance · family drama
The garage is a shadowy cave of oil-stained metal, lit by one flickering fluorescent tube that throws long, jagged shadows across the cracked concrete floor. Rain streaks the grimy windows, smearing the distant glow of streetlights into watery gold. I’m bent over the open hood of a battered Nissan Pulsar, the smell of grease and my own sweat thick enough to taste. Every movement sends a fresh throb through my bruised knuckles—a constant reminder of last night, of Teddy’s fists and Shannon’s quiet weeping. Tony’s gone, called away on some urgent job, leaving me alone with the clatter of tools and the steady drip from a leaky radiator. My shift’s nearly done, just an hour left. Then I hear it: a soft, tentative voice cutting through the rumble of a distant engine. I glance over…