by Chloe Walsh
"My balls?" I offered sarcastically. "Jesus, Da, I expected this overbearing shite from Ma, but you?" I shook my head and unfastened my seatbelt. "It's getting old real fast."
"I'm overbearing for taking you to your check-up and driving you to school?" His tone was laced with humor. "Wow, that's a new one."
"No, she's overbearing," I shot back. "You're just plain whipped for going along with her."
"She's my wife," he mused. "Your mother can whip me in whatever way she wants –"
"Just stop!" I strangled out, horrified. "You know full well what I'm talking about," I snapped, shoving the car door open. "I want my life back. Do you hear me? I want you and Ma to get off my back and give me some fucking breathing space."
Dad grinned. "Ah, to be young and hormonal again."
"I don't know why you're laughing," I hissed. "I'm being serious here."
"This is about Shannon Lynch," Dad said, sobering his features. "Because your mother and I agree that it's better for you to steer clear of her family."
Of course it was about Shannon Lynch. Everything in my life seemed to be centered around the girl lately. I couldn't get her out of my head, and I couldn't see her because my parents had gotten the fucked-up idea in their heads that they could tell me what to do.
Aside from a few measly text messages sent from my mother's phone when her back was turned, and several more unanswered calls, I hadn't spoken to Shannon since last week, seven days to be exact, and I was going out of my mind.
I felt like a bastard just leaving her there and not coming back, but I couldn't exactly walk the fifteen miles from my house to hers. I couldn't drive either, and I had lost my Gibsie privileges for making him take me over there in the first place.
In other words, I had been stuck in my house for the past week, losing my goddamn mind and drowning in concern. The only time I'd been out of the house was for physio and swimming, but that hadn't been productive because I couldn't concentrate on anything other than the girl I left behind.
"Because you're making decisions for me that aren't your place to make," I argued, dragging myself back to the present.
"We never said you couldn't see the girl," he said calmly. "You're just not allowed to see her over there."
"It's a joke," I spat, feeling as furious now as I did last week when they sat me down to lay down the law. "Her mother might be a headcase, but you and Ma are a close second."
"We're trying to protect our son," he stated calmly. "We have your best interests at heart, and your best interests involve keeping a wide berth of that family." Smirking, he added, "I'm also trying to keep your mother out of a prison cell."
I grimaced at the memory of that horrific fucking turn of events in the Lynch's front garden last week and how Mam had come this close to battering Mrs. Lynch. Shannon's mother threw around some shitty threats and called me a few choice names. That was all it took for Mam to morph into Floyd bleeding Mayweather.
"You know how Mam gets when it comes to you," Dad added. "She's a firecracker, son. Trust me."
"Yeah, well, I don't need anyone to protect me," I grumbled.
"I think you do."
"You're wrong."
"Maybe I am," he offered, driving me crazy with his devil's advocate approach to every fucking conversation. "But the risk is worth the reward in this circumstance."
The risk, in this instance, was my outrage. "And the reward is?"
"You staying out of trouble."
Jesus Christ…
Pissed off, I climbed out of the car and grabbed my school bag. "I can make my own decisions." Tossing my bag over my shoulder, I retrieved my crutch. "And I will."
25
Back to Tommen
Shannon
Over a week had passed since I last saw Johnny.
I honestly didn't blame him for not coming back to my house because even if, by some divine miracle, he still wanted to see me, I doubted his parents would allow him. Mr. and Mrs. Kavanagh had to hate me now. If my son was hanging around a girl whose parents were crazy, I would hate me, too. I would want my son to stay as far away from me as humanly possible.
For the first day, I reread the four messages he had sent me until the battery in his phone went dead. I couldn't charge it because none of us had a compatible phone charger, so I just sat there, thinking about his words until I was blue in the face.
I'm not going anywhere. And I meant it. I promise. x
Just text me when you wake up, let me know you're okay. x
I miss you. x
Can you call me? Can I call you? Are you free to talk? x
It was at the exact moment that the phone started ringing that it died in my hands. The tsunami of devastation that had spread through my chest as I stared at the blank screen and willed it to come back to life was potent.
It hadn't turned back on and I hadn't heard another word from Johnny since.
That was six days ago.
Joey was back at home though, making me feel a little less alone in that house. He even came with me to my hospital checkup, much to Darren's dismay. The boys were happier – well, more content at least. I presumed they felt the same as I did; safer with Joey around. He had stayed, which was both a blessing and a curse because the tension emanating from him was almost too much to bear. To be fair, I was emanating some mighty fine tension of my own, all of it directed towards my mother, who I hadn't spoken a single word to since the night Joey helped her to bed.
I couldn't stand to look at her, if I was being honest. I had so much hatred and frustration festering inside of me that I didn't trust my mouth when I was around her, therefore, I avoided her like the plague for everyone's sake.
"Are you ready for this?" Joey asked as he leaned against my bedroom doorframe in his BCS uniform, watching me battle with the lid on a tube of foundation. "Shan?"
Today was the first day back to school after Easter break. I glanced down at my Tommen uniform and shivered, feeling the familiar swell of anxiety creep across my skin, souring my stomach.
"No." Sighing, I tossed the tube on my bed and then sank down beside it. "I am so unbelievably not ready for this."
Joey watched me carefully for a long beat before exhaling heavily. "Yeah, I know the feeling."
"I'm scared," I admitted. "About what they'll say." I gestured to my face and the poor attempt I'd made to conceal the crusty scar that was still healing over from where Dad had split my cheek against the kitchen table. "About this." I chewed on my lip, hesitating, before blurting, "And about Dad." My voice was small. "They'll all know, Joe."
"Shan –" Shaking his head, Joey walked over to my bed and sank down beside me. "They won't say anything." Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and blew out a harsh breath. "Your face has pretty much healed up and what hasn't healed, you've covered with that war paint."
"War paint?" I arched a brow. "It's called make-up, Joe." Expensive make-up. "Claire gave it to me."
"War paint, make up… Whatever. It's all the fucking same to me," he shot back with an unapologetic shrug. "Your principal knows about what happened, right?"
I nodded, knowing Darren and Mam had met with Mr. Twomey over the break.
"Then you'll be fine," he added, tone reassuring. "I promise."
"I don't know what to say if anyone asks me about Dad," I confessed. "What if a teacher asks me?" I shook my head, feeling panicked. I felt poisoned. Like I was tainted. Going back to school, knowing that there were people that knew about what had happened was a terrifying concept. It was common knowledge around Ballylaggin, and I was freaking out. "I have no clue how to handle this."
"You handle this with the truth," Joey shot back sternly. "Or you just tell them to fuck off and mind their business if you don't want to talk about it, but you don't lie anymore, Shan. You got that? You don't cover for that piece of shit a minute longer because you've done nothing wrong." Straightening his spine, he added, "And if any one of those fuckers opens their mouth and gives you shit,
I'll come down there and sort it."
"The truth's hard," I admitted quietly.
My brother nodded stiffly. "Especially when you've been programmed to forget it."
I thought about his words for a moment. "Hey, Joe?"
"Yeah, Shan?"
"What are you going to say if someone asks you?"
"I'm going to tell them to fuck off and mind their business."
I sighed. "I wish I could do that."
"Do what?"
"Be brave," I whispered, feeling wistful.
"You already are." He turned to look at me then, green eyes full of pain. "So fucking brave."
"Don't feel like it," I mumbled with a shaky breath. "I just feel like running."
"Do you want to?" His tone was hopeful and a little desperate. "We could get on a bus right now and just go."
My heart skipped a beat in my chest and I had to fight down the surge of unease rising up inside of me. "When you say go…" I kept my eyes on his, gauging his reaction. "You mean for the day, right?"
Joey didn't reply right away. Instead, he just sat there, staring back at me.
"Joe?" I whispered, heart racing hard now. "That's what you meant, right?"
He forced a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes – I hadn't seen one of those in a very long time. "Of course."
"Don't leave me," I strangled out, clutching his school jumper in my hand. "You can't go away again."
"I'm here, aren't I?" he replied, tone strained.
"What about Aoife?" I asked, clinging to the one thing I knew could keep him close. "What's happening there?" She's a reason to stay…
"We're fine."
"And Shane Holland and his friends?" My heart buckled wildly. "You're not going to –"
"No," he said, tone harder now. "I'm not."
I don't believe you…
"Joey, your girlfriend's waiting outside in her car for you," Darren's voice filled my ears and I looked up to find him standing in the doorway, shrugging on a jacket. "You better get a move on or you'll make her late, too."
Without saying another word, Joey stood up and stalked out of my room, roughly brushing Darren aside as he went.
"Good morning to you, too," Darren grumbled.
"I'll see ya later, Shan," Joey called back as he disappeared inside his bedroom, returning a moment later with his schoolbag slung over his shoulder and his helmet and hurley in his hand. "Chin up, kid."
"Joey," Darren began to say. "Can we not do the wounded boy act today and just be civilized –"
"Eat shit," Joey sneered, holding his middle finger up as he thundered down the staircase.
"Lovely," Darren muttered, rubbing his jaw. "He's pleasant in the mornings."
"Depends on the company," I reminded him, tone petulant. "He was pleasant to me."
"Jesus, not you, too," Darren grumbled. "I can't handle two hormone ridden teenagers this early in the morning."
Then go back to your life. "Where's Mam?" I asked instead.
"Work. Now, are you ready?" he asked. "The boys are waiting in the car."
"You don't have to drive me," I stated, eyeing the set of car keys dangling from Darren's fingers. "I can get the bus."
"Come on, Shannon," he groaned. "Cut me some slack here. It's my first day on the school run."
"I'm just saying that I could get the bus, like I usually do."
"Yeah, well, sue me for not wanting my sister standing around a bus stop at six o clock in the morning when the drunks are lurking around," he replied. "I'll be driving you to and from school from now on."
"Because of Johnny?" I pushed, jutting my chin out defiantly. "Because you and Mam don't want me catching spins off him?"
"No, Shannon, because our father is still out there and if he's on a bender, you're the first person he'll go looking for," Darren snapped, and I flinched.
"Thanks for the reminder."
"I'm sorry," he said, tone calmer now. "I'm not trying to upset you, but I need you to be aware, and I need you to remember."
"Yeah, well, just so you're aware; I've never had a problem with any of the drunks at the bus stop." I swiped my schoolbag off the floor and gingerly slipped it over my shoulder before brushing past him. "Just the drunks in this house."
"Jesus," Darren groaned, trailing after me. "I'm drowning in mood swings."
26
Boom, Boom, Fucking, Boom, Buddy
Johnny
"Look, it's Mister Boombastic himself," Hughie Biggs called out when I rounded the courtyard and found the lads standing around the front entrance of the main building.
"How's the Vengaboy?" Patrick Feely offered, clapping me on the back. "Congrats on the marriage – you're a dark horse."
"I'll say," Hughie laughed. "Any babies yet, lad? Sail any boats?"
Arching a brow, I turned to Gibsie who was leaning against the wall. He had a cigarette hidden under his sleeve which I thought was pretty fucking pointless given the smoke that was wafting around him. "You told them?"
"I told everyone," Gibsie shot back with an unapologetic grin. He slid his free hand under his school jumper and began to slap his hand against his chest. "Boom, boom, fucking boom, buddy!"
Jesus…
"Is she here yet?" Ignoring their ribbing, I kept my eyes on Gibsie. "Have you seen her?"
Feely frowned. "Who?"
"Shannon Lynch," Hughie filled in, sounding amused. "I'm guessing."
"Are you with her now?"
I turned to look at Patrick. "What?"
"Shannon," he repeated. "Are you with her now?"
"Well, he was with her in Dublin," Gibsie piped up. "And at his house last weekend."
"I heard about what happened," Hughie said, eyes laced with sympathy.
Yeah, I bet he had. The people in this town were un-fucking-believable for gossiping.
"Is she okay?" he pressed.
I don't know because I haven't seen her in a week, I wanted to roar, but held it back. "She's grand."
"He hasn't seen her since Mammy K went to town on her mother," Gibsie laughed.
Feely's brows shot up. "They had a fight?"
"She went for her," Gibsie chuckled. "Kav had to drag her away."
"Christ." Hughie blew out a breath, sounding impressed. "Go Mammy K."
"You're a dirty rat," I growled, narrowing my eyes at my best friend. "After all the shite I keep under wrap for you."
"Calm down, you big vagina," Gibsie laughed. "She'll be here, so just calm your tits." He exhaled a puff of smoke and rolled the butt of his cigarette between his fingers. His brows furrowed and he gave me a peculiar look. "You're acting all…" he paused to wave a hand in front of himself before saying, "needy."
I gaped at him. "Needy?"
"Needy and clingy," Gibsie confirmed solemnly. "You might want to tone it down a tad."
"Cheers for the advice, Gibs," I bit out. "I'll be sure to take it."
"You're welcome," he shot back. "And speaking of appreciation; thank your dad again for me for getting me off the hook with Twomey." Sighing, he added, "It was bad enough last week, I would have been miserable at home without you for another one."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm glad you're not suspended, too, lad."
"Am I allowed home?" he asked. "Can you have me back yet?"
Feely arched a brow. "You've been separated?"
"Temporarily," Gibsie replied, sounding defensive. "It won't last."
Feely chuckled. "What did ye do?"
"The usual." Gibsie shrugged and waved a hand around aimlessly. "Broke the rules, stole a girl, got in some shit."
Feely shook his head. "I don't know about you two. I honestly don't."
"I didn't steal her," I corrected, temper rising. "She came willingly."
"Shannon?"
"Who else?" Gibsie snickered.
"Well, it's good to see you back on your feet, Cap," Hughie said, wisely veering the subject away from Shannon before I had an aneurism. "But you need to get your ass back to traini
ng as soon as possible. Barrettsfield RFC hammered Ballylaggin into the ground at the weekend."
And just like that my bad mood worsened. "Barrettsfield?" My voice was laced with disgust, not masking my horror. "Jesus, lad, they're second division."
"He doesn't need to worry about it," Gibsie interjected, tone serious for once in his life. "It's just a game, lads."
"What can I say," Hughie sighed, ignoring Gibsie's words. "We were lacking in the backline and down a captain."
Guilt filled my body. "Final score?"
Hughie grimaced before saying, "48-26."
"Jesus!" Anxiety churned inside of me. "How was your kicking form?"
"16 points," he replied. "Two conversions and four penalties."
"Fair play, lad." I slapped his shoulder. "You kept them in it."
Hughie smiled. "I tried."
"How did the checkup go?" Feely asked then, holding the door open for me.
"Yeah." Gibsie grinned and took another deep drag of his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Did the good doctor give you your green card?"
"Nope." Too pissed off to give him a lecture on his lungs, I stepped inside. "As predicted."
"Bad luck, lad," Feely said as both he and Hughie followed me into the school.
"Ah, it's not all doom and gloom." Taking one last drag of his smoke, Gibsie tossed the butt away and fell into step beside us. "At least you're down to the one crutch."
"Go me," I bit out, ignoring every smile, wave, and 'Hey, Kav,' and 'How's it going, Johnny' as I stalked through the hallway on my way to my locker.
"Just give yourself time," Feely replied calmly. "Everything will work out."
"Exactly," Hughie added, patting my shoulder. "Rome wasn't built in a day."
"Yeah, well Rome needs to hurry the fuck up, lads," I muttered, leaning heavily on the crutch in my left hand. "Because I'm a little short on time."
"You still have two months, Cap."
"I have forty-six days," I corrected, agitated. "And counting."