by Chloe Walsh
My heart leapt in my chest. "Shannon?"
Joey nodded and reached for a plate off the countertop. Shoveling several pieces of bacon onto the plate, he added, "She's out in the car."
"Why would you leave her in the car?" I demanded, tone tight. "It's freezing outside."
"Because she wouldn’t come in for me," Joey shot back in what sounded like a 'duh' tone. "You can try and get her to come inside yourself if you want, but she's not budging."
He didn’t need to ask me twice.
Or give me permission once, for that matter.
I was already on my feet and moving for the front door.
34
Mauled by dogs and feelings
Shannon
Feeling shocked, I sat in the back seat of Aoife's car and stared up at the Kavanagh house, debating my options.
Should I go inside?
Should I wait out here?
Should I curl up in a ball and pretend I wasn’t here?
Was his mother inside?
Was his father there?
I was mortified over what happened Friday, and while I had been okay when we were together at the pub and the cinema, I'd spent the last two nights lying awake and drowning in humiliation over throwing up in front of Johnny.
I was thrown off kilter by this boy, and being in his personal space was something I didn’t know how to handle.
I wasn’t sure I could handle my feelings for him.
My thought process was interrupted when two pairs of enormous yellow paws slapped against the window.
Startled, I swung my gaze to find two identical looking dogs with bright pink collars staring back at me, whining loudly, with their mouths open and tongues lolling to one side.
Without thinking twice about it, I slid Joey's seat forward and climbed out of the car.
The second my feet hit the gravel, I was assaulted with kisses and yodels as both dogs tried to climb my body.
"Hi, guys!" I reached down and rubbed them both.
My affection only seemed to rile them up because one of the dogs jumped at me, her paws slapping hard against my chest.
"Whoa."
Losing my balance, I collapsed on my arse with a loud ooof.
The minute I was grounded, they both dove for me, slobbering all over my face and neck.
Laughing, I tried to duck my face, but it was useless, because these dogs were persistent with their loving.
What I failed to notice in the car was that both dogs had clearly rolled in cow dung lately because not only were their coats matted with mud, but they reeked so bad.
After a fruitless battle to stand up, I ended up on the flat of my back on the rain-soaked gravel, as they sniffed and pawed at me and basically licked every inch of exposed skin.
"You're a friendly pair," I snickered, giving up on any attempt to escape. I could feel the damp seeping into my clothes, but I made no move to get up.
I couldn’t if I wanted to.
"Hi," I laughed, grinning up at the one who had decided my stomach was the perfect home for her butt.
She had her paws pressed firmly on my shoulders as she licked at my face.
"You're a lovely girl, aren’t you?" I cooed, as I ducked and dodged a tongue to the mouth.
It was pretty pointless considering the other one was standing by my head, fighting for attention.
"Careful," I warned the one by my head. "My face is tender."
"Bonnie! Cupcake! Get off her," a familiar voice ordered from nearby, but neither dog listened.
Instead, they seemed to up their efforts of loving me into a canine coma.
A few moments later, a pair of hands hooked under my armpits.
Startled by the sudden contact, my limbs locked tight of their own accord as I was lifted clean off the ground.
Johnny set me down on my feet, and then quickly pushed me behind him as the dogs lunged towards us.
"No!" he ordered. Keeping an arm around me, he held out the other in warning. "Bonnie," he growled. "You're a bad girl." His eyes darted to the other dog who was creeping closer. "Cupcake, don’t even think about pulling that shite."
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a tennis ball and waved it in front of the dogs, capturing their attention instantly.
"Yeah, you see that, don’t you?" Johnny coaxed and then flung it across the yard.
It landed somewhere out of sight and the two dogs bolted after it.
I took the opportunity of his momentary distraction to pull my hair tie out and drape my hair over my left shoulder, concealing the side of my face from his view.
"Sorry about them," Johnny said once the dogs were out of sight. Turning to face me, he gave me a quick once over and grimaced. "Jaysus, they destroyed you."
I was so stunned from the sight of him, so completely unsure of what to do or say, that it took me a few moments to clear my head and register that he was speaking – to me. "Huh?"
"Your clothes," he explained, gesturing up and down.
I looked down at myself and bit back a groan.
Yep, he was right.
I was destroyed in a combination of mud, rain, clumps of hair, and dog slobber.
"Oh, ah, yep." Mortified, I attempted to wipe my hands on my navy tracksuit pants, but the drool stuck to my fingers. "Yes, I am," I offered, forcing a small laugh, when all I wanted to do was dive into the back of Aoife's car and vanish.
"Sorry about them," Johnny apologized, looking a little embarrassed. "Those two are feral."
Shaking my head, I exhaled a heavy sigh and said, "No, it's okay. I didn’t mind. Bonnie and Cupcake are very cute."
"Bonnie and Cupcake are very untrained," Johnny corrected with a grimace. Shoving his hands into the pockets of the grey sweatpants he was wearing, he added, "They're my Mam's dogs. She treats them like they're human, so they believe they are."
"Are your parents at home?" I asked, feeling incredibly nervous at the thought of my brother being in close confines with either one of his parents.
Joey shot from the hip and was partial to saying whatever was on his mind.
It was quite possible that he would talk about the concussion incident.
"No, they're above in Dublin," Johnny told me. "My Da's working up there at the moment."
My eyes widened. "You're home alone?"
He smirked. "I'm not four."
"I know that," I replied, blushing.
"My folks travel for work," he explained, taking mercy on me. "I'm usually alone."
For whatever reason, those words bothered me.
I'm usually alone.
That was a sorrowful statement.
Frowning, Johnny reached over and cupped – yes, literally cupped – my chin in his hand.
"What the fuck is that?" he demanded, voice deathly quiet, as his blue eyes blazed with fire.
"What?" I squeezed out, panic-stricken.
Tipping my chin up, he brushed my hair off my shoulder and released a low growl.
"That," he growled, trailing his thumb over my cheekbone. "And that," he added, skimming the curve of my eye.
The contact was so gentle that it caused me to jump from nerves rather than pain.
He dropped his hand from my face but remained exactly where he was standing, so close that I could see the vein ticking in his neck as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.
"Shannon, what happened to your face?"
"Oh, that?" Laughing nervously, I tucked my hair behind my ear.
I immediately regretted the action when I felt the snot-like drool squelch between my fingers and hair.
It wasn’t bad enough to look like a homeless person, I had to go and add drool-soaked hair to the equation.
"Yeah, that," Johnny bit out, glaring at my cheek. "Who did that to you?"
"Nobody. I fell over my brother's Lego tower last night and almost poleaxed myself on the kitchen table," the line I had rehearsed to perfection for school tomorrow spilled from my mouth with the expert precision needed to sound believable.
I had been telling lies for so long about where the cuts and bruises on my body came from, that the lie poured effortlessly from my lips.
"You expect me to believe that?" Johnny stunned me by saying.
I frowned up at him.
That was a good line.
It was a believable line.
Why wasn’t he taking it?
"Yes," I strangled out, flustered by his directness. "Because that's what happened."
He arched a brow. "You're honestly trying to tell me that you gave yourself a black eye?"
I shrugged noncommittedly. "It happens."
"Not usually," he bit out. "You must have been running full speed to smash yourself up like that," he added, eyes locked on mine in disbelief. "Were you running?" he asked. "From something?" He stepped closer. "Or someone?"
Self-preservation roared to life inside of me; my three little brothers' faces the driving force behind my next words. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
"I'm not trying to say anything here, Shannon," he countered hotly. "I'm asking you to tell me the truth."
"I am telling you the truth," I snapped, voice breaking. "Stop pushing me." Tears prickled my eyes and I quickly batted them away. "God!"
I felt terrible for lying to him especially, but I couldn’t exactly turn around and say 'oh yeah, when my dad's full of drink, he likes to beat the shit out of me and throw me around like a ragdoll.'
It was at that exact moment that the skies decided to open above us, delivering an onslaught of pelting March rain, and soaking us both.
Thankful for the downpour, I spun around and hurried back to the car.
"Don’t do that," Johnny called after me. "Don’t go back in the bleeding car."
I shook my head and yanked the door open.
"I'm sorry, okay?" Johnny reached around me and closed the car door again. "I won't push you." Spinning me around to face him, he said, "I won't say another word about it."
He reached out to touch my face but quickly diverted his movements, cupping the back of his neck instead.
"Okay?"
Nodding, I released a ragged breath. "Okay."
Johnny exhaled heavily, expression full of relief. "Now, will you come inside with me?"
"I should probably just wait in the car," I mumbled, hardly able to look him in the eyes. "I don’t want to be intruding – unlike my idiot brother who apparently has no qualms about walking into stranger's houses and eating their food."
"Firstly, I'm not a stranger to you, and you're not intruding on me," Johnny corrected gruffly as rain pelted down on us both. "Secondly, I'm inviting you into my house," he added, running a hand through his now-soaked hair. "You're getting soaked." His gaze traveled over me once more before he inclined his head towards the house. "I want you to come inside."
"Are you sure?" I croaked out.
He nodded slowly. "Absolutely."
"Um, okay," I whispered uncertainly. "If you're sure that you're sure?"
"I'm sure that I'm sure," Johnny quipped. "Come on."
Johnny spun around and hurried over to the front door, only to turn around and jog back to where I was rooted to the ground.
He placed his hands on my shoulders and walked me into the house.
"See?" he coaxed when we were both inside with the huge door closed behind us. "That wasn’t so bad, was it?"
I shook my head.
Johnny shook himself down like a dog would, causing rain drops to splatter everywhere.
"You laughing at me, Shannon like the river?" he teased, noticing my smile.
I shook my head again.
He smiled one of the big, double-dimpled smiles that caused my heart to spazz out before gesturing for me to follow him down the long entrance hall and into a spacious foyer with two huge archways on either side of the room, leading god knows where.
Careful to keep my lips mashed together – and not let my mouth fall open like I wanted to – I took in the enormous staircase that took center stage, with its intricate wooden balusters with the little lion heads carved on top.
My gaze trailed upwards to the top of the staircase where both sides of the landing was clearly visible through the wooden banister rails that eventually joined the wall on either side.
"It's an old house," Johnny said by way of explanation. "Like a hundred and fifty years or something." He looked uncomfortable as he spoke. "My mother didn’t want to change the original design too much when we bought it. We renovated most of the rooms and put in a new kitchen, but Mam wanted to keep some of the original parts." Shrugging, he added, "She says the place has character or some shite like that."
"She's right," I breathed, doing a full 360 turn so I could take in the ridiculously tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers. "I think you could fit my entire house in this hall."
"Johnny!" Gibsie's voice thundered from the archway on the left. "Grub's up.”
"Are you hungry?" Johnny asked as he led me down the long hallway to the door at the end. "Knowing Gibsie, he's after frying the contents of the fridge."
I shook my head, my arms moving to wrap around my body almost protectively, as I trailed after him. "I'm okay."
The moment Johnny pushed the door of the kitchen open, we were bathed in sunlight and the delicious aroma of rashers cooking.
"Hey – it's little Shannon," Gibsie chirped, turning from his position at an impressive looking stove range to smile and wave a spatula at me. "Did Johnny manage to coax you inside, or was it the smell of my fucking amazing cooking that drew you in?"
"It's raining," I mumbled, biting back a shiver as the dampness from my clothes began to seep into my skin.
"You cooked one egg, Gibs, under my supervision," Joey, who was sitting on a stool at the center island, piped up. "You're no Darina Allen."
"Thank fuck for that, Lynchy." With the frying pan in his hand, Gibsie walked over to where my brother was sitting and slapped an egg onto his plate. "I like my man parts."
Reaching across the counter, Joey retrieved the tea-cozy covered teapot and poured two cups of tea before swinging the pot in our direction. "Shan, Kavs, tea?"
Gibs?
Lynchy?
Kavs?
This was typical Joey – sparking up a friendship as easily as he could snap his fingers.
A sudden jolt of jealousy burned inside of me, the unfairness of how easy life was for my brother making me feel hard done by.
That tinge of jealously was quickly doused out by the huge tsunami of guilt that enveloped me.
Joey didn’t have anything easy.
He made the best of every situation.
He was just trying to survive like the rest of us.
"Can I get you a towel or something?" Johnny offered in a low tone, gaze trailing over me. Frowning, he added, "You're soaked."
"Holy shit," Joey barked then, startling me. "What in the name of Jesus happened to you?"
Setting the teapot down, he stood up and stalked towards me.
Leaning closer, Joey took a whiff of me and then quickly backed away.
"Jesus Christ, Shannon," he gagged. "What did you roll in – dog shit?"
Wow, tactful, big brother, thanks a lot…
"No!" I balked and then tried to sniff myself inconspicuously. "I don’t smell."
"You don’t smell?" Joey shot back mockingly. "You're so ripe my eyes are watering."
God, Joey!
"My dogs mauled her," Johnny quickly interjected, running another hand through his hair. Droplets of water continued to drip from his broad shoulders to the tiles on the floor as he spoke. "They knocked her down outside and rolled all over her."
"Huh," my brother bit out. "Funny how my sister always seems to get mauled and knocked around when you're near her, Kavanagh."
Johnny's jaw ticked, but he didn’t respond.
Turning his attention to me, Joey said, "You need to get out of those wet clothes, Shan, before you get pneumonia."
I opened my mouth to respond, but
my brother continued without giving me a chance.
"Do you have something she can throw on?" Joey asked, looking to Johnny. "Or some bleach to mask that god-awful smell?"
Johnny nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can find something –"
"Or we can just leave?" I offered, glaring at my brother, praying he would take the hint. "We should go home, Joey."
"You're not getting into my girlfriend's car smelling like that," Joey shot back.
"Don’t be a dickhead," I growled. "Take me home."
"You guys can't go home yet. We haven't had tea and chats," Gibsie piped up. "And I have scones baking in the oven."
"You baked scones?" I asked, momentarily distracted. "You?"
"Yes, me," Gibsie shot back, looking slightly wounded. "I'll have you know that I'm a wonderful baker."
"Sorry," I quickly replied, not wanting to offend him. "You just don’t strike me as a baker."
"Relax, I'm totally fucking with you," he laughed. "I have no idea what I'm doing." He pointed to the stove and said, "For all I know, those scones could be killers."
"Killer scones?" I scrunched my nose up at the concept. "Then I hope you won't mind if I pass."
Gibsie chuckled. "I like you." He looked over my head and said, "I like her," before returning his attention to me. "But not the smell." He pegged his nose with his fingers and added, "Your brother's right – you need to change."
"That's okay, I'm going home –" I began to say, but once again, I was interrupted – this time by Gibsie.
"Johnny, she can take a shower here, can't she?"
My eyes bulged. "What?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess," Johnny, who was still standing behind me, replied slowly. "If she wants?"
Joey, who had returned to his perch at the island, nodded his head.
"Good idea, Gibs," he agreed between forkfuls of egg and sausage. "Wash that wet dog smell off ya before we have to drive home in small confines."
"I don’t smell," I muttered.
"You stink," both Gibsie and Joey said in unison.
"Fuck off the pair of you and leave her alone," Johnny piped up, sounding aggravated. "She doesn’t smell bad at all."
"You don’t smell it because you're immune," Gibsie retorted. Turning to Joey, he said, "He lets the mutt sleep on his bed every night."