by Chloe Walsh
"You really think that?"
"I've been on the sidelines watching you play since you were in the minis in Blackrock," Mam replied. "And I can't count the number of coaches and other parents who have come up to me, telling me that my boy was destined for the green jersey." Smiling, she added, "I've always been proud of you, love, and I've always known you were brilliant."
"You've never said any of that before," I mused, scratching my jaw.
Mam smirked. "Because I'm still holding out hope that you'll take up golf instead."
"I doubt it, Ma." I shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry."
"Well, just keep your brain safe out there," she muttered, standing up. "Don't be letting any of those thugs hit you on the head."
"I'll do my best," I laughed.
"And no more naked Shannon in your room," she added, giving me a scathing look as she tossed the bra on my lap. "For clothes changing or anything else."
50
Let's Make Some Bleeding Babies
Shannon
Johnny had been back on the pitch a little over a week and my anxiety was still through the roof. He was training full-time again – working his body to maximum capacity. It was terrifying to watch because I had a godawful fear of him injuring himself, but I had to concede that it was different this time. He was different. He was talking now and addressing his pain, working with his physio's, OTs, doctors, and trainers, and following all the orders laid down.
Panicked and nervous, I sat in the stands of Ballylaggin RFC on Saturday morning, knees bopping, as I looked on with my heart in my mouth. With a disposable cup filled with creamy hot chocolate, I clutched it between my glove covered fingers and blew into the rim, enjoying the heat of the steam as it rose up and hit my cheeks. It had been hammering down with rain all day, and I was grateful to be sitting under the plastic awning in the stands.
Like always, my attention was riveted to the boy in the number 13 jersey. He had a woven cap on his head with the club logo etched on the front and a long-sleeved, black body warmer on beneath his training jersey. Beneath his black training shorts, I could see the white support bandage strapped to his thigh, and it made me feel a little queasy.
I watched him for the longest time, stretching and sprinting, following orders, and completing drills with effortless ease.
Let him get this.
Please god, let the boy make it.
He deserves it.
He's earned this.
"It's a training session, Shan, not a match," Claire chuckled, dragging me from my thoughts. "If you keep clapping every time he catches a ball or completes a lap, the lads on the team are going to give him a roasting."
"Oh." Mortified, I stilled my hands and tucked them under my thighs, knocking my empty paper cup off the bench in the process. "I don't want to embarrass him. I'm just –"
"In love?" She feign-swooned and dropped her head on my shoulder. "I know."
"Proud," I corrected, cheeks flushed. "He's worked so hard to get back out there."
"And look at him go," Claire mused, pointing to where Johnny was whizzing around the pitch like a bullet, outrunning his opposition with relative ease. "He's on fire today."
"Yeah." I sagged in relief when Johnny side-stepped the big, beefy boy charging straight for him, and threw the ball back to Feely who ran straight for the posts. They all smashed against one another– Johnny included – and I groaned into my hands. "God!" Reaching up, I pulled my woolly hat down over my eyes until they had stopped pummeling each other. "I hate this sport."
"You're so cute." Claire laughed softly. "So, how'd you get out of the house?"
I scrunched my nose up at the memory of Mam screaming at the top of her lungs for me to stay inside or my father would find me this morning when Aoife offered to drop me off at Claire's house. If that wasn't bad enough, Mam had followed me into the front garden, crying and wailing in full view of the neighbors. I didn't know what she expected me to do; stay in my bedroom and rock? I didn't feel safe there.
The truth was, I was more likely to see Dad sitting at our kitchen table than at the rugby club. Besides, I wanted to support Johnny. This was huge for him, and I wanted him to know that I was there for him – regardless of what was happening in my home life. Focusing on Johnny kept the panic thrashing around inside of me at bay. Being here gave me the escape I needed. I felt like I had a purpose, like there was a reason to not lie down and cry into my pillow. Like there was a reason to fight back.
You can do this, I mentally whispered, focusing all of my attention on him, as I eyed him from my perch. I know you can.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Claire asked in a low tone, hooking her arm through mine. "But you can't tell anyone."
"Of course," I replied, turning to face her. "And I would never tell."
"Something happened with Gerard."
My eyes widened. "When you say happened?"
Claire blushed but didn't elaborate.
I hesitated, unsure whether to push for more or wait for her to tell me in her own time. Finally, I settled on, "Whatever happened between you two…" I paused, trying to word it right, "did it happen recently?"
"Kind of," she whispered, biting down on her bottom lip.
"Are you…happy about it?"
She shrugged. "I don't know."
"Do you…regret it?"
"I think he does," she strangled out.
Frowning, I turned back to the pitch to where Gibsie was stealing glances at Claire. "Whatever it is that you did, I don't think he's regretting it, Claire," I told her, catching Gibsie for the millionth time as he glanced up at where we were sitting. "He's been watching you all morning."
"This is all a big game to him," she grumbled. "And I'm going to lose."
"What?" I shook my head. "Claire, come on, don't think like that."
The sound of the coach's piercing whistle cut through the air, signaling the end of training and putting an end to our conversation.
"Don't say anything about it when he comes over," Claire whisper-hissed as Gibsie bounded straight for us, caked from head to toe in mud. Seriously, he was so dirty you couldn't make out what color his hair was supposed to be. "Please, Shan."
"I won't," I promised, slapping on a bright smile as he approached. "Hi, Gibs."
"Hey, Little Shannon," he replied before turning his attention to my best friend. "Claire-Bear," he purred with a devilish grin. "I have something for you."
Claire's brows rose in surprise. "You do?"
"Uh-huh." Nodding, Gibsie leaned against the barrier that separated the pitch from the stands and crooked his finger. "Come here and I'll show you."
Clambering over her seat, Claire approached him warily. "You better not be planning on – oh my god, Gerard, don't!" she screamed when he dragged her clean over the barrier and tossed her over his shoulder. "Put me down!"
"Are you sure you want to climb down my body?" he laughed, purposefully smearing her with mud as he lowered her to her feet. "I'm such a dirty boy."
"You asshole!" she strangled out through fits of laughter as he dumped a huge sop of muddy grass that was clung to his thigh onto her hair. "It's not funny."
"Then why are you laughing?" he snickered, dodging her fist when she broke free and swung for him.
"I was trying to lure you into a false sense of security," she shot back, charging towards him.
"Hi, Shannon," Johnny's voice filled my ears and I swung my gaze to where he was leaning against the barrier, smirking at me. Instantly, my heart fluttered wildly in my chest.
"Hi, Johnny." Blowing out a shaky breath, I stood up and moved towards him, only to hesitate. "You're not going to do that to me, are you?" I asked, pointing to where Claire and Gibsie were having a full-blown wrestling match on the pitch. "Because I'm not into that."
Johnny laughed softly. "Only if you don't come over here and give me a kiss."
Smiling, I closed the space between us and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Hi."
"Hi." With a tender affection in such stark contrast to his previous behavior on the pitch, Johnny pressed his forehead to mine and nuzzled. It was such a primal, male move that I could do nothing but stand there and reciprocate the dominant petting. Exhaling a heavy breath, he pressed a kiss to my nose, and brushed my cheek with his thumb. "Your cheeks are all rosy."
"And you're all grass," I whispered, plucking a few strands from his hair. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel good, Shan," he replied, eyes bright and full of excitement. "How was I looking out there?"
"Like a big, bright, shining star," I told him proudly. "You were the best one out there by a mile."
Smirking, he leaned forward and kissed my cheek. It was a soft, sweet act of affection and more intimate than if he stuck his tongue down my throat. "Come on –" Hooking me under my arms, Johnny helped me over the barrier before reaching for my hand. "I just need to change and we can get out of here."
"I thought you had the gym?" I asked, falling into step beside him. "I was going to go home with Claire."
"I've already been," he explained, hooking an arm around my waist to lift me over a giant puddle of mud.
My brows furrowed. "But it's only half three."
"The early bird catches the worm, Shan," he shot back. "I've been up since five."
Whoa.
"And they say chivalry is dead," Johnny said in an amused tone of voice, eyes locked on Gibsie who had won the scuffle with Claire and was currently sitting on top of her, banging his fists against his chest in victory. They were both caked in mud and Claire's lovely white coat was brown to match her now muddy-brown hair. "Gibs, get off her, ya eejit."
"There's nothing chivalrous about him, Johnny," Claire growled before popping Gibsie in the stomach with her fists. "Take that, you big donkey!"
Rolling onto his back in dramatic fashion, Gibsie clutched his stomach and writhed on the grass, laughing his arse off. "Donkey."
Claire took that as her opportunity to counter attack. Ignoring all of the other boys who were wolf-whistling and calling out suggestive comments as they left the pitch, Claire scrambled onto her hands and knees and lunged for Gibsie. "Keep laughing," she growled as she straddled his chest. "But you're going down."
"On you?" he shot back, waggling his brows. "Yes, please."
"Gerard!"
"Claire," he purred. "Ag–"
She slapped a hand over his mouth. "Don't you dare finish that sentence," she hissed, leaning close to his face. "And stop licking my hand."
"You…ant…e…oo…ick…your….ussy…stead…" Gibsie replied, but his response was muffled by the hand Claire had over his mouth. "Mmmmm–"
"Stop!" she giggled, wiggling around when his hands shot up to tickle her sides. "Gerard, I can't–"
"Claire!" Hughie barked, jogging towards us with Feely in tow. "What the hell are you doing?" Narrowing his eyes, he snarled, "Get off my sister, fucker!"
"Oh great, the life and soul of the party is here," Claire groaned, dropping her hand from Gibsie's mouth. "I'm just killing your friend, Hugh, relax."
"And your sister's on top of me," Gibsie added with a wolfish grin.
Hughie's face turned a dark shade of purple. "Gibs, I swear to god, if you don't leave her alone, I'm going to hurt you." He took a menacing step towards them. "I'm not kidding around anymore –"
"Okay," Feely interjected calmly as he stepped in front of Hughie. "They're only messing around, lad. Just relax."
"She's messing around," Hughie spluttered, eyeballing Gibsie. "He's got an ulterior motive."
Johnny groaned beside me. "This is going to end in tears," he announced, rubbing his jaw.
"What?" I frowned up at him. "Claire and Gibs?"
Johnny nodded. "I can see it coming a mile off."
"Calm down, Hughie," Claire huffed, climbing to her feet. "You're making a big deal out of nothing." Purposefully stepping on Gibsie's stomach as she went, she stalked off in the direction of the carpark. "Like always!"
"Gibson! Kavanagh!" their coach roared from across the pitch. "No girlfriends at training! This isn't a fucking discotheque."
"She's my sister, not his girlfriend," Hughie roared back. "Don't insult her intelligence."
"Yet," Gibsie offered with a snicker.
"Ever," Hughie shot back, furious, as he stalked off in the direction of the clubhouse.
"We'll see," Gibsie called after him, earning himself the middle finger from Hughie.
"I'd call that a shitstorm of epic proportions," Feely mused. "Keep it up with his sister, and I predict messy times ahead for you."
"Yeah, well, as long as the conditions are wet, I'll be a happy man," Gibsie offered with a wink.
"Wow," Johnny shook his head. "That was even creepier than usual, lad."
"Yeah, I just heard it there," Gibsie replied, frowning for a brief moment before grinning sheepishly at him. "To be fair, it sounded so much better in my head."
"Maybe some things should stay in your head, Gibs," Johnny offered.
"Come on, ya big eejit," Feely said, holding a hand out for Gibsie who was still sprawled out on the grass. "Let's go before you get yourself in more trouble."
"You know I can't help it, lad," Gibsie laughed as he climbed to his feet and headed off the pitch with Feely. "Trouble follows me."
"Training's over, Kavanagh," the coach barked. "And no girlfriend at training next week!"
Looking a little pissed-off, Johnny scratched the back of his neck and called back, "Alright, coach." Turning back to me, he cupped my elbow in his hand and leaned down. "I just need to change." He brushed his lips against mine. "Then we'll get out of here, okay?"
I blew out a shaky breath and nodded. "Okay."
"I'll be right back," he whispered, giving my ass a quick squeeze before releasing me, smirk firmly intact, never taking his blue eyes off me as he slowly backed away.
I swear I felt the heat of his stare in my bones long after he disappeared from sight.
"Are you sure this is okay?" I asked Johnny when we parked up at the back of his house a half an hour later. He was fresh from a shower, donning clean clothes, and smelling absolutely delicious beside me. "Your parents won't mind me coming over?" I added, warily eyeing the black Range Rover he was parking his Audi next to. "You're positive?"
"Relax, Shan, she's not even here," Johnny replied, cutting the engine. "They booked a night away in Killarney for tonight. They must have taken my father's car."
Excitement bubbled to life inside of me. "They did?"
"We're all alone." Unfastening his seatbelt, he turned to grin at me, dimples deepening in his cheeks. "What ever will we do?"
With trembling fingers, I unfastened my seatbelt and climbed over the seats, not stopping until I was sitting on his lap. "What about the others?" I whispered, pressing my forehead to his, as I thought about Claire and Gibsie. "They're following us over here from the pitch."
"They can wait," he growled, clamping his hands down on my hips. "I really don't give a fuck."
"So, what do you want to do?" I breathed, feeling him hardening beneath me.
"Just be with you," Johnny replied gruffly, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. "Spend some time on our own."
I sagged against him. "Me, too."
"Do you want to go up to my room?" he asked, lips moving to my neck.
"Yeah." I nodded and tightened my hold on his shoulders. "A lot."
Groaning into my neck, Johnny gave my hips a squeeze and pulled back, eyes blazing with heat. "Let's go."
Excited, I shoved open the driver's door and scrambled out and watched Johnny climb out after me. My heart was pounding in my chest as he caught ahold of my hand and pulled me along after him to unlock the back door.
"You sure about this?" he asked, sounding excited.
Nodding, I reached up and dragged his face down to mine.
"Aw fuck –" His hands dropped to my ass and he hoisted me up. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I
held onto his shoulders and kissed him back as we stumbled into the utility, all breathless and laughing.
"Mmmm."
We both froze and stared at each other.
"Mmmm, that's it."
Our eyes widened in unison.
"You know how I like it…"
"That little bollox got back here before us," Johnny hissed, as he stalked towards the kitchen door with me still wrapped around him like ivy. "Gibsie," he snarled, swinging the door open. "I swear to Christ if you brought some girl back here – oh fucking god!" He roared spinning around, only to give me a perfect view of his parents. "What are you doing?" he choked out, horrified. "Ye freaks!"
Mrs. Kavanagh was sitting on the island counter top and Mr. Kavanagh was standing between her legs.
Naked.
"Oh, Johnny, love, you're home early," his mother replied.
"Ma!" Johnny hissed as he set me on my feet. "What are you…oh Jesus – what the fuck are you letting him do to you?" Clutching his stomach, he gawked. "I'm going to be sick."
"Hello, Shannon, love."
"Uh, hi?" I strangled out, blushing furiously.
"Cover your ass, Da," Johnny roared. "My girlfriend's in the room!"
"Sorry, Shannon."
"That's okay."
"No, it's not," Johnny corrected. "Nothing about any of this is okay." Mr. Kavanagh moved to pick up his clothes off the floor and Johnny let out a demented scream. "Don't fucking pull out," he choked out. "I don't want to see it." Johnny covered my eyes with his hand, and pulled me into his chest. "Don't look, Shan. Honestly, baby, keep your eyes closed. I'm scarred for life."
"Relax, Johnny," Mr. Kavanagh replied in an amused tone of voice.
"Relax?" Johnny spluttered, dropping his hand from my eyes. "Are you serious right now? I eat my fucking dinner on that counter – not anymore, apparently. No, I'm never eating in this bleeding kitchen again." Shaking his head, he pushed his hands through his hair, looking truly appalled. "And you had the audacity to lecture me over a bra. You two are a disgrace." Stalking towards his parents, he swiped their clothes off the floor and thrust them at them. "You're an embarrassment, and I am ashamed of the both of you!"