by Chloe Walsh
"What? Oh no – No!" I blushed an ugly shade of beetroot red. "It's not like that."
"Oh no?" She smirked. "I thought maybe Johnny had gotten himself a little girlfriend while I was away."
"Um, no." I squirmed in discomfort. "We're just –"
"Friends?" Mrs. Kavanagh quipped, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "So I've heard."
Were we friends?
I wasn’t sure.
Maybe he was still trying to make amends.
I nodded and said, "Yeah, we're just friends."
"Ah, that's a shame," she replied after a long pause. "For a moment there, I thought you had managed to do the impossible."
"The impossible?"
"Distract him from rugby."
"Oh." I clasped my hands together, unsure of how to respond to that. "Well, I haven't," was all I came up with, followed with, "We're just friends."
When Mrs. Kavanagh spoke again, her brow was knitted in concern. "I love my son with all my heart, but sometimes, I wish he would remember to be seventeen and let go a little. Have fun. Fall in love. Break the rules. Be a teenager instead of a–"
"Machine?" I offered quietly.
"Yes, " his mother agreed, nodding eagerly. "His food intake, the training, the traveling, the sponsors, all of it… it's scary." She sighed again, brows creasing. "I just want him to let loose every once in a while. I know how that sounds coming from a mother, but he’s so controlled. Every part of his life is completely structured and planned. It’s overwhelming for me as his mother to watch it. I can’t imagine how it feels to be seventeen years old and live that way, day in, day out. But it's all rugby, rugby, and more rugby with Johnny. He eats, sleeps, and breathes the damn sport."
I opened my mouth to say something – anything – but Mrs. Kavanagh continued.
"He wakes up and trains. He goes to school and trains. He comes home and trains. And then he goes to bed and repeats the whole cycle all over again the next day."
"It sounds exhausting," I agreed, feeling a little uncomfortable at the sudden and in-depth insight I was being given into his life.
"It's certainly exhausting watching him." With a small sigh, she touched her forehead and said, "I just wish he could find an outlet for the frustration or anger or whatever it is that’s built up inside of him. I’m afraid that one of these days he’ll explode."
I had no idea what to say in response.
My brain was struggling to register all of the new information about Johnny.
"And I've just realized that I'm rambling," Mrs. Kavanagh said then, chuckling softly. "Sorry. My husband is always rising me about it."
"That's okay," I replied as a small shiver ran through my body. "I don’t mind."
And I didn’t.
I felt oddly at ease listening to her speak.
Johnny's mother was nice and friendly and the complete opposite to the type of parent I would be going home to.
"So, tell me how you and Johnny know each other?" she asked. "Are you in the same class? How did you make friends with each other?"
"Uh, no, I'm in third year," I replied, shifting in my seat.
"Really?" Mrs. Kavanagh's eyes widened. "I thought you were much older."
I beamed at the compliment – at least I was taking it as a compliment.
It wasn’t often someone mistook me for being older than what I was.
"I'm sixteen. I should be in fourth year," I explained, delighted with myself for coming across as older. "But I was held back in primary school."
"So was Johnny," Mrs. Kavanagh told me with warm smile.
"In sixth class," I replied with a small nod. "He wasn’t happy."
"No," she laughed. "He certainly wasn’t." Smiling, she added, "You must know each other well if he gave you the 'my parents ruined my life when they moved me to the sticks' story."
"Not that well," I found myself explaining, "Honestly, Johnny offering to drop me home is probably just another one of his ways of trying to make up for knocking me up on the pitch."
"Excuse me?" Mrs. Kavanagh spluttered, eyes bulging.
"It was an accident," I quickly interjected. "He didn’t mean for it to happen. If anyone's at fault then I am. I shouldn’t have gone there. I distracted him. But he took good care of me afterwards." I blew out a breath before adding, "He was very kind."
"And when did this accident happen?"
"Back in January," I explained, my hand automatically moving to cup the back of my head. "The doctors at the hospital said everything's okay, and the bump's long gone now, but Johnny's been trying to make it up to me since it happened."
"Has he now?"
"I think he still feels responsible for it happening," I said with a shrug. "We both know he didn’t mean for it happen. Neither of us did. It was a complete accident. But it's all sorted now."
"And so he should feel responsible!" Mrs. Kavanagh's face turned a deathly shade of white when she hissed, "I am going to castrate that little shit –"
"Oh my god, no!" I squealed.
Thinking back over my words, I suddenly realized how badly that must have sounded to Mrs. Kavanagh and, desperate to wipe the look of terror off her face, I quickly clarified, "Out. Johnny knocked me out. Not up."
Oh, dear god, let me die.
"Out," I emphasized for the dozenth time. "The bump was on my head."
"How did he hurt you?" his mother asked, looking troubled and yet massively relieved.
I sighed heavily. "With his balls."
"With his balls?" she repeated, looking horrified. "Johnny knocked you out with his balls?"
"Ball," I stressed, squirming in my seat. "Just the one ball –" I stopped speaking, knowing I was making a hash of things.
"Balls? Bumps? Knocking you up?" Mrs. Kavanagh expelled a heavy breath. "Shannon, love, please explain this to me before I have a stroke."
"I'm not pregnant or anything!" I blurted out, feeling the need to make that clear. "I have never been pregnant," I added for clarification. "Not by your son or anyone else."
"That's good to know," his mother replied, tone slightly less pitchy. "Now, tell me what happened."
"Oh, god…" I pressed my hands to my burning cheeks and inhaled a steadying breath before trying again, "I transferred to Tommen after Christmas break. It was my first day and I was late for a class so I cut across the pitch where they were having rugby practice. Johnny kicked the ball and it smacked me in the back of the head. I fell down the bank of the pitch and cracked my head off the ground. I must have hit a rock or something when I landed because I passed out. It's all still pretty fuzzy, but Johnny helped me to the office and waited with me until my mother got to the school. Mam took me to the hospital to get checked over." I blew out a shaky breath and added, "That's it."
Mrs. Kavanagh watched me for a long, uncomfortable moment, obviously taking my measure.
I guessed that she realized that I was telling her the truth because her voice was laced with concern when she finally asked, "And you were alright?"
"Yeah." I nodded, relieved to have cleared the disastrous miscommunication up. "It was just a moderate concussion."
"Oh, Jesus," she gasped. "Shannon, love, I am so sorry."
Reaching across the console, she snatched a designer looking handbag off the floor and clicked it open.
"Your hospital bills," she began to say, tone distracted as she rummaged in her bag. "Do you know how much they are – dammit, I've left my purse on the kitchen counter. I'll need your mother's phone number." She continued to rummage in her gorgeous, designer bag. "Why didn’t the school contact me?"
"What?" I gaped and shook my head. "No, no, Mrs. Kavanagh. It's fine. There was no bill. I have a medical card."
She watched me for several long beats before finally pulling her hand out of her handbag.
I was glad she did because I had a firm grip on the door handle and was two seconds away from bolting out of this jeep – shoe or no shoe.
"Well, I'm very sorry that happened
to you, Shannon," she finally said, setting her handbag back down on the passenger side floor. "But I would still like to talk to your parents to apologize. Maybe I can do that when I drop you home –"
"There's no need," I blurted out, feeling my chest constrict with panic as the blood in my veins turned to ice. "My mother works all the time so she won't be home and my father isn’t…he won't…please don’t call…he isn’t –" My words choked on my tongue and I exhaled a ragged breath and strangled out the words, "It's not necessary."
Mrs. Kavanagh nibbled on her bottom lip uncertainly as she studied my face.
Her brown eyes were full of unspoken concern, her expression matching. "Shannon, love, I don’t –"
It was at this exact moment the front passenger door swung open, startling us both, and causing Mrs. Kavanagh to – thankfully – stop talking.
"Fuck, it's freezing out there!" Johnny announced as he jumped inside and shook himself down, causing water to spray everywhere. "I'd say it's time to batten down the hatches and get the rubber dinghies out, girls. The weather's gone to shite."
"Says the genius running around in a storm for the last half a bleeding hour," his mother quipped. "We're on the orange alert for flooding, you know. Fourth one in a month."
"You know I'm no quitter, Ma," Johnny shot back, holding up my shoe in triumph.
Twisting in his seat to face me, he arched a brow and said, "Tip for next time we do this?" His tone was serious but his eyes danced with mischief, as water dripped from his rain-flattened hair onto his forehead. "Keep your shoes on your feet."
Winking, he tossed my shoe onto my lap before turning back around and reaching for his safety belt.
"Sorry," I mumbled, red-faced.
Picking the slimy shoe off my lap, I reluctantly slipped my foot inside, shuddering at the squelching sensation.
"Thanks for saving my shoe."
"Yeah, well, thank me by learning how to walk in them," Johnny shot back in a teasing tone.
I blushed beetroot red. "Um, yeah, okay."
"Christ, that's some amount of rain for March."
"Watch your language," Mrs. Kavanagh scolded as she started the engine and pulled off. "And what's this I hear about you knocking Shannon out?"
Johnny swung around and stared at me, the expression on his face said really?
I sank back in my seat.
"Well?"
"For fuck's sake, Ma!"
"What have I told you about your language?" Mrs. Kavanagh snapped. "Cool your jets, Johnny."
"Christ." Johnny sagged against the headrest and groaned. "I already got it in the neck from Twomey, Lane, Coach, and Shannon's Ma. Please not you as well."
"Well?" Mrs. Kavanagh asked, casting a quick glance to her son before refocusing on the road. "Did you not think I should have been told?"
"I'm sorry," I squeezed out, clasping my hands together anxiously. "Your mam thought I was your…that we were…that you got me…with your pregnant balls…ugh –" Clearing my throat, I whispered, "I'm sorry."
Johnny turned back to face me and smirked. "My pregnant balls?"
"No, my pregnant and your balls," I spluttered and then cringed at my words. "Never mind."
Ignoring my rambling, Johnny turned to his mother and said, "It was an accident. She was on the pitch during training. I didn’t even see her until the ball cracked her in the head."
"Yes, I know that now. Shannon explained," Mrs. Kavanagh replied. "I hope you apologized to her, Johnny."
"Of course, I fucking apologized to her," Johnny huffed, shoulders rigid.
From my perch in the center of the backseat, I watched as he smoothed his hand over his thigh – his injured thigh.
Shaking his head, Johnny exhaled a frustrated breath and muttered, "I've been apologizing ever since."
"Still, I would have liked to have been told about this when it happened."
"Well, now you know," he bit out. "It was an accident. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and I don’t go around clocking girls over the head for shits and giggles."
"Don’t get so defensive, Johnny," she replied, tone softening. "No one's accusing you of doing it on purpose, love."
"Yeah fucking right," he muttered. "Just drop it, Ma."
He sounded agitated – no, it was more than that.
He sounded like he was in pain.
Which he more than likely was.
My memories of our conversation in his car floated into my mind in glorious colored detail.
It's not healing fast enough.
It's a fucking mess.
I'm sore.
Don’t tell anyone.
Concern sparked to life inside of me and I wondered if his mother knew how much pain he was in.
I doubted it.
Based on my limited interaction with the woman, she didn’t strike me as the type of person who would knowingly allow her son to put himself in harm's way.
"You're going the wrong way," Johnny stated when Mrs. Kavanagh took a left turn at the intersection instead of heading straight onto the motorway. "Shannon lives in Ballylaggin town –the far side."
"Oh, I know, love," Mrs. Kavanagh chirped. "I just thought it might be a nice idea to have Shannon around for tea."
"Tea?" I croaked out.
Johnny sighed heavily. "Ma."
"Do you drink tea, Shannon, love?" Mrs. Kavanagh asked.
"Um…yes?"
"Ma," Johnny hissed in a low tone. "What are you doing?"
"The girls are at the groomers in town and need to be collected at seven," Mrs. Kavanagh explained. "It's almost five now. It doesn’t make sense to drive all the way into Ballylaggin with Shannon, only to drive all the way back again for the dogs."
"Then pick them up now," he hissed, tensing.
"I can't," Mrs. Kavanagh replied breezily. "I've left my purse at home."
"Ma, no," Johnny said in a warning tone as he slowly shook his head. "She wants to go home."
"Shannon doesn’t mind if we pop home for an hour before dropping her home," Mrs. Kavanagh replied.
"You didn’t even ask her," Johnny bit out.
"Shannon?" Mrs. Kavanagh called back to me. "Do you mind, love?"
Say no, Shannon.
Tell her that you do mind.
If he finds out, he'll kill you.
You know this is wrong.
This boy is not safe for you…
"I don’t mind," I strangled out, torn by the fear inside of my heart and the burning curiosity in my body. "It's okay by me."
"See now?" his mother quipped, patting Johnny's cheek. "Shannon doesn’t mind, love."
Johnny turned back and gave me an apologetic look.
I didn’t know what to say or do so I just shrugged and smiled weakly back at him.
He stared at me for a long beat before exhaling a sharp breath and turning back to face the windscreen.
Oh, god.
Oh, lord.
Oh, sweet merciful baby Jesus…
Breathe, Shannon, just breathe…
I remained quiet, watching Johnny and his mother interact, and speaking only when I was asked a direct question.
It was awkward, uncomfortable, and I was achingly aware of his presence the entire time, my body on high-alert.
For what, I had no clue.
But every time I was in close proximities with him, I found it hard to breathe.
After a few minutes of travelling up a narrow secondary road, we pulled up outside the familiar black iron gates.
Mrs. Kavanagh rolled down her window, stretched her arm out, and keyed the code into the pad.
And just like when I came here with Joey a little over a week ago, the huge gates swung inwards.
Concentrating on my breathing, I tried not to focus on how beautiful his home was and how inferior I felt to be, once again, about to enter it.
"Now," Mrs. Kavanagh announced, parking up outside what looked to be an eight-feet tall door. "Bring your friend inside, love, and get her somethi
ng warm and dry to change into."
She cut the engine and unbuckled her seat belt.
"I must make a quick call to work and then I'll make you both something to eat."
"Ma –" Johnny began to say, but Mrs. Kavanagh climbed out of the car and hurried over to unlock the front door.
Stunned, I could do nothing but watch as Mrs. Kavanagh disappeared into the house, leaving us alone in her Range Rover.
"I am so fucking sorry about this," Johnny announced, distracting me from my inner turmoil. He twisted around in his seat to face me. "I have no bleeding clue what she was thinking."
"It's okay," I replied, clasping my hands together tightly. "Your Mam is really nice."
"She's something alright," Johnny muttered under his breath as he stared over his shoulder towards the house. "What about your Ma?"
My brows shot up. "What about her?"
"Do you need to be at home?" he asked, cringing a little in obvious discomfort. "Helping her out or anything?"
"She's at work," I replied quietly.
"Shit, yeah, you said that already," he muttered, running a hand through his drenched hair. "Are you okay?"
I nodded.
"And you already said that, too," he muttered with a shake of his head. "Shite, you told me not to talk about it."
"I know," I whispered.
"It's done," he promised. "I won't bring it up again."
I smiled weakly. "Thank you."
He looked at me for a long moment, as if he was trying to figure something out in his head, before exhaling a heavy sigh. "Right. We better go in."
"I don’t have to," I quickly offered, feeling awkward and unsure. "I can wait out here if you prefer?"
"What –no!" He climbed out and opened my door. "I don’t want that."
"Are you sure?" I whispered, feeling my heart race unsteadily in my chest.
Johnny nodded, but he looked as uncertain as I felt. "I want you to come in, Shannon."
"You do?"
"I do."
Inhaling a deep, steadying breath, I climbed out of the car and stared up at his face, feeling very small and very lost.
I needed him to take the lead here.
This was unfamiliar territory for me.
I didn’t know how to approach this.
"Come on," Johnny finally said, thankfully taking control of the strange situation we had found ourselves in, as he took ahold of my elbow and led us out of the rain.