Chapter 42: Binding 13: Chapter 42

My last class on Monday was double P.E, and because of the torrential downpour of rain outside, Mr. Mulcahy had taken pity on us and set up a game of soccer in the indoor basketball hall.

Mr. Mulcahy was the school’s rugby coach and it was pretty evident in the way he lounged on a foldup chair on the sideline, eyes focused on the clipboard in his hand, that he wasn’t concerned with our physical education.

Also, I had managed to sneak a peek at said clipboard when I tried and failed to get out of playing, and it was covered in doodles and rugby related plays.

I had ended up being drafted onto the team with Claire, thank god, and a couple of the other girls, while Lizzie had managed to talk her way out of participating and got to go to the library instead.

I wished I was as persuasive as her.

Instead, I was sporting a yellow bib and attempting to run around and not get squashed to death by the boys.

With Lizzie living it up in the library, it left only four girls on the court to play with the eighteen other boys from 3A.

I was by far the worst.

Shelly and Helen, the other two girls in my class, weren’t much better, but I had a feeling that had more to do with their general disinterest in the game rather than lack of ability.

Claire was amazing at sports, the best girl on the court, and the lads treated her with the respect she deserved by passing the ball off to her whenever she managed to get free.

So far, she had scored twice.

To be fair, my teammates had tried that with me earlier on in the game, but after tripping myself up and costing our side a goal, they avoided me.

I thought that might be for the best.

“Are you having fun?” Claire asked, jogging towards me when one of the boys on our team scored again.

She was wearing the same black jersey, white shorts, and yellow bib that I was, but unlike me, her training clothes actually fit her body.

Her long, blonde, curly ponytail swished from side to side as she moved.

Her cheeks were red, her eyes alight with excitement.

She was disgustingly stunning.

“Isn’t this the best way to end the day?”

“Uh, yeah, sure!” I feigned a smile and gave her two enthusiastic thumbs up.

“You hate this, don’t you?” She laughed and rested her elbow on my shoulder. The fact that she could do that with ease only drove home how small I was. “Don’t worry. There’s only another ten minutes left.”

“Soccer isn’t really my –” I paused to duck, narrowly avoiding a ball to the face. “It’s not my thing,” I began to say, but Claire was already chasing after the ball, screaming at our teammates that she was ‘open’.

Moments later, a stampede of teenagers came barreling up the court towards me, hunting down the rogue soccer ball.

So, I did what any sane 5’0 person in my position would do; I ran over to the wall and flattened my back against it.

Narrowly avoiding another trampling, I decided that I had quite enough of P.E for one day. I’d had a horrible, niggling pain in my stomach all day and running around wasn’t helping matters.

My body was in pieces.

I was in so much pain that I could hardly stand it.

To be honest, I had a feeling the stomach ache I was suffering was anxiety induced and father related.

We were finishing up from school on Friday for two whole weeks, and every time I allowed myself to think about all those days stuck in my house with my father, the worse the pain grew.

Most people were looking forward to getting away for the holidays.

Meanwhile, I was a trembling mess.

Exhausted, I pulled my bib off and searched the hall for Mr. Mulcahy, to ask him if I could be dismissed early and sit in the changing room.

My heart jackknifed in my chest when I found him standing in the entrance to the hall, talking to none other than Johnny Kavanagh.

Oh god.

How long had he been standing there?

Certainly long enough to see my pathetic attempt at evading death.

All day, I felt him watching me.

Everywhere I went, I swear I could feel eyes on me.

I knew he wanted to speak to me, which was why I had spent the day ducking and dodging him.

He would have questions about last week.

He would want to know.

And he wouldn’t believe my lies.

That was terrifying.

Because he was too clever for a girl in my position to hang around with.

When I was with him, I forgot about lying and hiding.

I forgot about everything.

Mr. Mulcahy was tapping the clipboard in his hand, deep in conversation with Johnny – whose attention was flickering between whatever was on that clipboard and, well, me.

I was exactly opposite him, with the court between us, but I swear I could feel the heat of his stare right down to my toes.

Every time he switched his attention from the clipboard to me, I was hit with a gaze so heated and full of intensity that I couldn’t figure out what I was seeing.

Was it anger?

Was it frustration?

Was it something else?

I couldn’t tell.

I didn’t have to think about it too much, because a few seconds later, Mr. Mulcahy blew his whistle and instructed our class to leave the court and get packed up.

Coach and Johnny remained in the entrance, deep in discussion, as our class trudged past them to the changing rooms.

Feeling like it was the safest option, I made a beeline for Claire, hooking my arm with hers, and asking her a bazillion pointless questions about the game we’d just played – well, the game she’d just played.

I kept my eyes on her face, listening intently to her responses, when we passed them.

It wasn’t until I was safely tucked away in the girls’ changing room that I released the tremulous breath I’d been holding in.

“Ouch – Shannon, what the hell is wrong with you?” Claire demanded the second the changing room door slammed shut behind us.

“Huh?”

“My arm?” Claire squeezed out. “Are you intentionally trying to cut off my circulation?”

My gaze shot to her arm, more specifically to where my fingers were digging into her skin. “Oh my god!” Releasing her, I slapped a hand over my mouth. “I am so sorry.”

“What’s the matter?” She took a step closer, concern splashed across her features. “You look really freaked out.”

“Nothing,” I quickly replied. “I’m fine. It’s just…” I shook my head and blew out a ragged breath. “I wasn’t expecting him to be out there.”

“Johnny?”

I nodded slowly.

Her eyes widened then. “Oh my god!” Pointing a finger at my face, she whisper-shouted, “You lied to me! Something happened the other week, didn’t it?”

“No.” I shook my head, cheeks flaming. “Nothing happened.”

“He was staring at you back there – like completely eyeballing you,” she hissed, looking a little giddy. “Did something happen? Please tell me something happened…”

“I promise you that nothing happened between us,” I strangled out, regretting ever mentioning it. “And he wasn’t eyeballing me.”

“But you wanted it to?”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but Claire interrupted me.

“Ha! Don’t even lie, I can see right through you,” she snickered. “Even your ears are blushing.”

“Claire, please, you can’t tell anyone!” I blurted out, mortified.

“I already promised you that I wouldn’t.”

I sagged in relief. “Thank you.”

“But you should know that he was looking at you, Shan. Like seriously looking at you.” Claire clapped her hands together, squealing loudly. “Oh god, this makes me so happy.”

“No, he wasn’t –And I don’t –I can’t – I just…” Choking on my words, I inhaled a calming breath and tried again, “We had a fight that night in his car.”

“A fight?” Claire’s brows shot up. “About what?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled, flushing. “And I…”

“You what?”

“He dropped me home again on the Friday before my birthday.”

Her entire face lit up. “Oh my god!

“And then I threw up in front of him,” I glumly admitted. “Possibly on him.”

He was very close to the danger zone.

While he held back my hair.

Claire cringed in sympathy. “In his car?”

“No,” I replied weakly. “In school. At my locker.”

She smiled sadly. “And he dropped you home afterwards?”

“And then I…”

“You what, Shan?”

“I went to the pub with him.”

“The pub?” she screeched. “What pub?”

I thought about it for a moment before I remembered the name. “Biddies, I think?”

“Oh my god,” she gasped. “That’s his pub.”

“What?” My eyes widened. “His family own it?”

It wouldn’t surprise me.

“No, no,” Claire hurried to say. “They don’t own it, but it’s like his pub. His spot. His…his…HQ.”

“What does that even mean?”

“That’s where they all go,” Claire said. “All the boys from the team. Biddies is their hangout.”

“Oh,” I breathed, flustered. “Okay.”

“So,” she mused. “What did you do at the pub?”

“He bought me dinner,” I confessed.

“Wait – why did he take you to Biddies if you were sick?”

I shrugged. “He drove me home, but when we got to my house, he asked me to go for a drive with him.” Frowning, I added, “And he took me to the cinema after Biddies.”

“Shut the front door,” she squeaked.

“And on my birthday, I ended up going to his house.”

“What?” Claire actually screamed. “His house?”

“It was Joey’s fault. But I was there…and I had a shower…and then he cooked for me…and I fell asleep on his – ” I quickly snapped my mouth shut when the door flew open and Shelley and Helen came bursting into the room.

Claire raised her brows at me but didn’t say anything else.

One look at her face, though, and it was clear that this conversation was far from over for her.

I took that as my opportunity to scoop up my uniform off the bench and slip into one of the shower stalls to get changed.

I wasn’t a prude or anything like that, but I was seriously lacking in comparison to these girls.

Saving myself some unnecessary humiliation, I always changed in one of the stalls with a curtain drawn around my A cups.

When I had my uniform back on, and my frazzled nerves under control, I returned to the girls just in time to hear Shelly and Helen’s latest drama.

Shelly was a tall brunette with the kind of curves I could only hope to grow into one day. Helen was the shorter, slightly less curvy, redhaired version of Shelly.

They were massive gossipers and spent their days welded to each other’s sides, whispering and snickering, but I’d met far worse than them.

I actually sort of liked them both in a ‘they’re completely harmless if you don’t tell them your business’ kind of way.

“God, he’s such a ride!” Shelly continued to squeal.

She was standing in her bra and knickers, completely at ease with her body, and making animated hand gestures to her BFF.

“I swear to god, Hells, I would climb that boy like a drainpipe.” She flicked her long ponytail over her shoulder and feign-swooned. “He’d be amazing at it, too.”

“Don’t lie, Shell,” Helen shot back with a snicker. “If he looked at you long enough you’d pass out from shock.”

“I might,” Shelly agreed with a laugh. “But then he could revive me.” Waggling her finely-shaped brows, she added, “with his tongue.”

“Who are we talking about, girls?” Claire interjected with a friendly smile. She was sitting on the bench, buttoning her school shirt back up. “Anyone interesting?”

“Who do you think?” Shelly teased with a huge smile. “Mister sex-on-legs himself.”

“Did you see him watching us?” Helen added excitedly, biting down on her bottom lip. “He was. I saw him. He was totally watching us when we were on the court.”

“I wish.” Shelly sigh/swooned. “God, why can’t the lads in our year look like him?”

“I know,” Helen agreed dreamily. “That boy

“He’s not homegrown,” I heard myself interject. “He’s from Dublin.”

“No…” Helen challenged with a confused expression etched on her face. “He’s from Ballylaggin.”

“If it’s Johnny Kavanagh you guys are talking about, then Shannon’s right,” Claire interjected. “Honestly, girls, if you went and spoke to the boy, you’d know straight away that he’s a Dub.”

“He is not a Dub,” Shelly piped up, looking mildly horrified. “He’s from Cork.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but Johnny is a big, blue Dub,” Claire countered, grinning. “God, girls, the minute he opens his mouth, it’s so obvious.”

“Well, his father is from Cork, so he’s half Corkonian,” Shelly grumbled. “And he lives in Cork.”

“And he was born and raised in Dublin – which makes him a Dub,” Claire snickered. “Ask him what colors he’ll be wearing on All Ireland Final day,” she added. “I can promise you it won’t be red.”

Shelly clearly took the Cork and Dublin sporting rivalry to heart because she looked terribly distraught at the news.

“You don’t know that,” she challenged. “He moved down here when he was little. He probably supports Cork and Munster now.”

“Actually, I do know that,” Claire countered, grinning. “Back in September, Hughie had all the lads from the team over to watch the hurling final, and guess who was the only one wearing blue in a sea of red jerseys?”

“Well, I don’t care,” Helen sighed. “The accent only makes him sexier.”

“Exactly,” Shelly sniffed. “I’d still climb him like a drainpipe.”

“Then you better get a hurry on that climbing, Shell.” Laughing, Claire continued to rub salt in Shelly’s rebel wounds by adding, “Because he’ll be out of here after he leaves school. Once he’s through with The Academy and Irish Heads offer him a contract, mark my words when I tell you that he won’t stay in Cork. He’ll go straight back to Dublin and they’ll welcome him with open arms. Because he’s their ‘homegrown’ not ours.”

“How do you even know all this?” Helen asked, staring at Claire like she had grown two heads.

“Because I spend my time surrounded by boys who play rugby with him,” Claire replied. “I heard Hughie and Gerard talking about how Johnny will only stay in Ireland for a couple of years. The boys reckon he will more than likely play abroad for a few years while their team’s current center fazes out and Johnny gets senior level game experience. My brother’s bet is France – the clubs over there have some serious cash to throw away. Then they’ll bring him home as a world class player with the world of experience under his belt and youth still on his side.”

“God,” I muttered, feeling a little queasy from this conversation. “You make him sound like a piece of meat.”

“Because that’s what he is in their world, Shan,” Claire replied, turning her attention to me. “A big, fat, juicy piece of premium steak.”

“I can’t begin to imagine what it feels like to be under so much pressure,” I whispered, my thoughts immediately rushing back to that night in his car.

No wonder he reacted so badly.

I’d seen the attention people gave him when we were out.

Johnny’s entire life was being played out in front of the country.

Everybody talked about him.

All the time.

I think if I were him, I would crawl under my bed and hide.

A huge swell of sympathy filled my chest, all directed at him.

“Poor guy,” I mumbled, thinking about how desperate he must be feeling to have to hide his injury.

“Poor guy?” Helen scoffed and made a pffft noise. “There’s nothing poor about Johnny Kavanagh, Shannon. The beautiful, beautiful, ride of a boy is going straight to the pros. He’s already being featured on popular rugby blogs and magazines. Does that sound like someone poor to you?”

“You should see the crowds and media at his local games,” Helen added with a dreamlike sigh. “It’s insane.”

I know.

I saw.

Maybe he was off to the pros or maybe he wasn’t.

I didn’t think that it was any of our business to be talking about him like this.

This was his life that was being openly discussed and I wasn’t comfortable.

“You’re awfully quiet there, Shannon,” Shelly stated as her eyes assessed me with keen interest. “Don’t even pretend that he isn’t the most beautiful boy you’ve ever laid eyes on.”

He was, by far, the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen in the flesh.

However, I got the distinct feeling that without the allure of fame and money that was attached to him, these girls wouldn’t be so obsessed.

Then again, maybe they would be.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t care less about what shaped ball he kicked around a field.

Rugby was a sport.

It was a game.

It wasn’t all he was.

It was just one part of him.

The only part that mattered to these girls, apparently.

It was disgusting and I refused to join in on a conversation that reminded me heavily of the conversations I’d overhead girls have about Joey.

“I guess.” I shrugged noncommittally. “He’s a very good player.”

Both girls laughed.

“She’s totally blushing,” Shelly teased. “Look, don’t even bother, Shan.”

I frowned. “Bother with what?”

“Liking him,” she replied. “Johnny doesn’t even look sideways at the girls in his own year, let alone girls in lowly third year.”

“Actually, that’s not true,” Claire tossed back cattily. “He gave her a spin home from school.” She cast me a mischievous grin. “Twice.”

Blushing, I made a mental note to never tell Claire a goddamn thing again.

Both girls swung their gazes towards me.

“You lucky bitch,” Shelly breathed, wide-eyed.

“You were in his car?” Helen demanded.

I shrugged, feeling very exposed in this moment, but didn’t reply.

“And she was in the papers with him,” Claire added. “Hughie showed me. All the lads were talking about it because Johnny never stands in pictures with girls.”

“He’s never in the papers with girls,” Helen accused. “When did this happen?”

“Before she went out to dinner with him at Biddies,” Claire offered with a huge grin. “And the cinema. Oh, and after she spent her birthday at his house.”

“Oh my fucking god!” Both girls gasped at the same time.

“Did you score with him?” Helen asked – actually, it was more of a demand. “Oh my god, did you ride Johnny?”

Claire looked at me with an expectant expression.

“No! God, of course I didn’t,” I choked out, spluttering on my words. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Ah, because he’s Johnny Kavanagh.” Shelly rolled her eyes sarcastically. “And you were in his house. Any girl in her right mind would want to ride him.”

“Not Lizzie,” Claire waved a hand in the air. “She despises rugby players.”

“That’s because Lizzie is fighting with Pierce. She’ll love rugby players again next week when he smooths her over again,” Shelly retorted, then quickly turned her attention back to me. “Oh my god!” Planting her hands on her hips, she squealed, “Did you see his bedroom? What’s it like? Does he have a huge bed? I bet it’s huge. Is he driving you home from school again? Is that why he’s here? Oh my god, are you two a couple?”

“Oh god, Bella is going to be maaaaad,” Helen interjected. “She’ll hit the roof when she finds out you’re after her fella.”

“Johnny’s not Bella’s fella,” Claire snorted. “She, on the other hand, is everyone’s girl.”

“Actually,” Shelly chimed in, holding a finger up. “I heard some of the sixth-year girls in the bathroom the other day talking about Bella being with Cormac Ryan now.” Arching a brow, she added, “Apparently, she’s been shagging him for ages.”

“While she was with Johnny?” Helen gasped.

“Mmm-hmm,” Shelly said. “Stupid girl, huh?”

“Well, Cormac’s a good-looking guy,” Helen replied with a frown. “But he’s no Johnny Kavanagh.”

“I know, right?” Shelly agreed.

Claire took a dramatic half-bow. “And there you have it,” she said. “Everyone’s girl.”

“Still, though.” Helen chewed on her nail, gaze flicking to mine. “Bella won’t be happy about you.”

“She doesn’t own him,” Claire scoffed. “They were never an actual couple, and even if they were, Bella can’t talk. Everyone knows that she’s been riding half the school behind his back for months.”

“Yeah, but he’s her horse in the race,” Helen reasoned. “Operation Bind Thirteen anyone?”

“Ugh, those girls are dopes,” Claire grumbled. “I thought that stupid competition phased out last year.”

“It did,” Shelly said in a sulky tone. “Bella won.”

“Operation Bind what?” I croaked out.

“Binding Thirteen,” Helen repeated, staring at me like I was clueless.

In this instance, I was.

“What does that even mean?”

“The fifth and sixth-year girls had this stupid competition going last year to see who could get with Johnny,” Claire grumbled. “They called it Operation Binding Thirteen because they’re completely sad and unoriginal.” She pulled a face before adding, “Apparently, Bella won.”

“I don’t get it,” I admitted, mortified.

“Johnny’s jersey number is thirteen,” Claire explained, looking thoroughly disgusted. “And binding is a rugby reference for engaging in a scrum – although, I’m pretty sure those girls meant engaging with Johnny in a whole different position.”

“What –why would they do that to him?”

“Because he’s impossibly picky,” Shelly groaned. “And rarely looks at any of the girls around here. He’s a complete snob when it comes to who he’s with.”

“I suppose he can afford to be with the kind of women he’s surrounded by on those tours,” Helen injected.

“True,” Shelly said glumly. “Did you see those girls on their last tour?”

“The model?” Helen asked and gave a resigned nod. “She was like twenty-seven.”

“They were all over the internet,” Shelly sighed.

“Bella won’t be happy with competition,” Helen offered with a grimace. “Shan, you should stay aw

“She’s a bitch,” Shelly agreed. “It doesn’t matter if they’re taking a break right now or not. She’ll go batshit on you.”

“They’re not taking an anything because they were never in a relationship,” Claire grumbled. “They were glorified fuck buddies, guys. It was hardly the romance of the century.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Helen countered. “You know what she’s like, Claire. In Bella’s eyes, she and Johnny are on a break, and she will lose her shit if anyone gets in her way.”

“I wasn’t with him,” I choked out, the fear of having my eyes scratched out by a sixth year making my stomach churn violently. It wouldn’t be the first time, and I still had a faint scar on my right eyelid to prove it. “I swear.”

“Shannon, relax,” Claire interjected, coming to stand beside me. “No one is going to touch you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Helen piped up, looking worried. “Bella can be a right bitch when she wants to be.”

“Oh yeah?” Claire shot back, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Well, so can I.”

“Wh-what?” I whispered, feeling like my stomach was about to fall out of my butt. “But I wasn’t… I’m not…I didn’t do anything –”

The sound of the school bell beeping filled my ears, interrupting me, and instead of trying to explain my way out of this messed up conversation, I grabbed my gear bag and bolted for the door.

“Shannon – wait!” Claire called after me, “Just wait for me!”

I didn’t wait.

Instead, I ran at top speed out of the P.E hall, pushing past the lads coming out of the boys’ changing room and stumbling down the steps in my attempt to get as far away from potential confrontation as possible.

I couldn’t take this.

Not today.

I couldn’t take another argument.

Not with my parents, or Bella Wilkinson, or anyone else.

I just couldn’t do it.

It was too much.

I made it to the laneway leading out of the school, feet still pounding against the concrete, when the heel of my shoe got wedged in a crack in the middle of the road and almost caused me to fall head-first onto the wet asphalt.

Thankfully, I managed to right myself in time to save myself from another concussion.

Aware that several students were openly watching my mini-meltdown, I slowed to a brisk walk.

Hobbling over to the footpath, I waited for a large crowd of boys to pass before falling into step several feet behind them.

Jesus.

Were Helen and Shelly right?

Was Bella going to come after me?

Because Johnny gave me a spin home?

Oh god my heart, my poor, frazzled heart was battering my ribcage.

My stomach was rolling.

I felt like I was going to be sick.

No, rephrase that to I was going to be sick.

Climbing over the low fence that separated the path from a wooded area, I ran into the bushes, dropped my bag on the wet grass, ducked behind the nearest tree, and vomited violently.

There was very little in my stomach, but the apple I’d eaten earlier came up in glorious fashion.

Shuddering in revulsion, I remained in a crouched position, inhaling several calming breaths, while I attempted to calm myself down.

My entire body was trembling violently, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the rain pelting down on me or the sheer terror in my heart.

I suspected both.

Several minutes later, when I was sure I could move again, I stood up gingerly and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

Pressing a hand to my stomach, I exhaled a ragged breath and looked around.

Thankfully, I had managed to position myself out of sight from the lane.

This time.

I reached into my schoolbag for my water bottle only to realize that, in my haste, I had grabbed the wrong bag.

My school bag was back in the P.E hall.

“Crap,” I croaked out.

Shoulders sagging, I slung my gear bag onto my back and made my way back to the road.

I didn’t bother running this time.

I was all out of energy.

I was all out of everything.

If Bella wanted to hurt me, then no amount of running away would change that.

She would find a way.

They always did.

The worrisome thing was I didn’t know what she looked like.

I didn’t know who to watch out for.

Everyone, my brain insisted. Trust nobody.

With the rain pouring down on me, seeping through my clothes, I walked slowly back to the P.E hall with my head down and my flight-mode deactivated.

There was a steady stream of fast flowing water running down the road and the grassy dike to the left of the path was underwater that I was careful to avoid when I crossed over towards the P.E building.

Unlike earlier when I had been running and not taking any notice of the weather, I was achingly aware of my surroundings now – and the shitty Irish weather.

God, if it didn’t stop raining soon, the town would be put under flood alert.

It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Cork in the winter and sometimes early spring.

Hell, it could even flood in the summer in Cork.

Without the protection of the coat I had left in my locker, my clothes were soaked right through.

My feet were wet, my socks drenched from scurrying around trying to find a spot in the woods to vomit. The sensation of my wet uniform clinging to my equally wet skin made me feel both icky and cold.

Everyone was gone when I eventually returned to the hall, the earlier noise and bustle from my classmates noticeably absent.

Grateful for the temporary shelter from the monsoon outside, I went straight for the girls’ changing rooms and breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted my schoolbag on the bench where I had left it.

I was still getting used to my things not being touched in this school.

I walked over to my bag and picked it up, only to notice a torn-out page from a copybook flutter to the floor.

I ignored it.

Soaked to the skin, I grabbed my emergency pouch, trudged into the bathroom and quickly brushed my teeth, gagging when the brush poked the back of my throat.

When I was finished cleaning my mouth, I rinsed off the toothbrush and tucked it back inside the small zip lock bag with the paste and walked back to my get my bag.

Checking my watch, I noted that it was 4:25.

Aside from my shorts and jersey and a clean pair of underwear, something I always carried, I didn’t have a spare change of clothes at school, so I would have to suffer on until I got home.

My bus wasn’t for another hour but I knew I would much rather wait at the bus stop for it to arrive than risk bumping into Bella inside the school.

Even though I didn’t know what Bella looked like, I wasn’t prepared to put myself through that level of worry.

Not even for my coat that was still in my locker.

The rain was worth my peace of mind.

Tucking my emergency pouch back into the front pocket of my schoolbag, I hoisted it onto my back and settled the straps of my bag on my shoulders, before reaching for the note.

Shan,

I should’ve kept my fat gob shut. I really didn’t mean to upset you. I thought we were all joking around and I got caught up in the banter. Sometimes, I forget about all the horrible things those girls did to you. It’s hard because you seem so happy here… and different? Different in a good way.

And don’t take any notice of Shelly and Helen. They are complete drama-whores. Bella won’t lay a finger on you. I promise.

Anyway, I’m really sorry and please text me when you get home.

Love Claire. x.x.x

I read the note three more times before stuffing it into the pocket of my skirt. Then I tucked my gear bag under the bench next to Claire’s before leaving the changing room.

I

Their banter was perfectly normal.

It was my reaction to the banter that I was mad about.

My constant overreaction to everything.

I needed to work on myself.

I needed to stop being scared all the time.

It was hard, though, when I spent most of my waking hours in a constant state of paranoia and anxiety.

Joey told me that I had to fight back.

He said it again last night when he was rubbing my back as I tried to breathe through a panic attack.

He told me that if he ever put his hands on me again I should grab a weapon.

I was afraid to, though.

I was terrified of unleashing something I might not be able to rein back in.

It was because of my lack of action that my brother ended up taking a beating last night.

I knew Joey didn’t blame me for his broken nose, but the text message I’d received from him earlier, letting me know that he was staying with Aoife for the night, made the prospect of going home a terrifying one.

He was bailing out and I didn’t blame him.

If I had a safe place to fall, I would hurl myself towards it.

That’s what Aoife was to my brother.

Joey had Aoife and I had no one.

Deep in thought, I was at the bottom of the steps outside the P.E building when the sound of my name being called rocketed through the air.

“Shannon.”

Turning around, I watched as Johnny jogged down the steep steps of the building, pulling up the hood of his navy jacket as he went.

Don’t overreact and run, I silently commanded as my feet twitched beneath me. Just say hi.

Realizing that I was physically nodding along to my mental affirmations, I cleared my throat and offered a weak, “Hi, Johnny.”

“Hi, Shannon,” he puffed, coming to a stop in front of me. “How’s it going?”

“Okay,” I squeezed out as I tried to keep my features impassive. It was an impossible feat when every ounce of blood in my body was rushing to my face, encouraged by my thunderous heartbeat. “You, uh, were in the hall?”

“Yeah.” Johnny nodded. “I had a few things I needed to go through with Coach.” A small smile pulled at his lips. “You weren’t messing when you said you didn’t play any sports, huh?”

I flamed in embarrassment.

“Ah, no, I wasn’t.”

“How’s your Mam?” he asked, blue eyes sharp and probing.

“Oh, she’s uh–” I paused to tuck a drenched tendril of hair behind my ear, “She’s a lot better now.”

“That’s good,” he said, and it sounded like he genuinely meant it. “You were at home helping her last week? That’s why you didn’t come to school?”

“Um, yeah, she needed some help after the, uh, the –” I shook my head before adding, “Mam’s okay now. She’s back to work and everything.”

Johnny’s brows shot up. “So soon?”

You’re one to talk, Mr. Adductor…

I shrugged. “That’s what she wanted.”

“What about you?” Johnny asked then.

I frowned. “What about me?”

His blue eyes burned holes in mine when he said, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” I croaked out, feeling incredibly nervous to be so close to him again.

“You know,” he mused. “I’m starting to really dislike that word.”

“Well, I am,” I choked out. “Okay, that is.”

“That’s good,” he said. “And your family–”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I said in a small voice. Ever again. “We’re moving on from it, so I’d prefer not to be reminded,” I added. “If that’s okay?”

“Shite, yeah,” he muttered. “I won’t say another word about it.”

I sagged in relief.

“I’m also really sorry,” I croaked out. “For the way we imposed on you at your house that day.”

“What?” Johnny frowned at me. “You didn’t impose on me.”

“I really did,” I admitted, embarrassed. “And so did Joey.”

“Shannon, I don’t feel that way,” he told me, tone gruff. “I don’t – so don’t think like that. Okay?”

“Okay.” I nodded. “Well, I should probably get going now.” Smiling weakly, I offered him a small wave and said, “Bye, Johnny,” before turning on my heels and walking away.

See, progress!

I wasn’t running.

“Wait,” Johnny called out, his voice coming from close behind me. “Are you walking home?”

Irrationally affected by his close proximity, I gripped the shoulder straps of my bag and nodded but didn’t stop walking.

“In this weather?” he asked, falling into step beside me.

“No, I’m just walking to the bus stop,” I explained quietly, keeping my eyes trained on the footpath ahead of me, careful to avoid the overflow of rainwater that seemed to be bubbling out of every drain.

It wasn’t an easy feat, what with my heart trying to burst its way out of my chest.

That was another thing I needed to work on: controlling my body’s reaction around this boy.

He was walking beside me and every time he took a step, his arm brushed against mine.

It was clearly accidental, I doubted he even noticed it, and he was so big I was sure he couldn’t help it, but that didn’t mean my body didn’t react to the feel of him.

At least I was burning up now.

It helped with the damp.

“What time’s your bus at again?” Johnny asked, voice deep and gravelly.

Shivering, I swiped a raindrop off my lip with my tongue before replying, “I get the half five bus every day.”

“That’s over an hour from now.”

I didn’t respond.

I just kept walking.

“Are you planning on standing around in the rain for an hour?” he asked, stepping in front of me and halting me in my tracks.

We were both like drenched rats from the downpour, and I had to avert my eyes to stop myself from admiring the way his wet hair clung to his forehead.

He had gorgeous hair.

He had a gorgeous smell, too.

One I couldn’t stop myself from inhaling as he stood far too close to me for comfort.

Lynx deodorant, freshly cut grass, and boy all rolled into one.

Who was I kidding; he had a gorgeous everything.

When I dragged my thoughts back to the present and shrugged, Johnny let out an impatient growl, his piercing blue eyes burning holes through me.

“Come on,” he said gruffly. “I’ll take you home.”

Oh no.

Sweet baby Jesus, no.

“No.” I quickly shook my head. “You’re grand.”

He arched a brow, getting all up in my personal space with his gigantic frame. “Why not?”

“Because you dropped me home,” I replied, taking a safe step back.

“So?” he countered, taking another step towards me.

“So, that’s enough.” I tucked my chin into my chest and tried to step around him. “Thanks anyway.”

Again, Johnny blocked my path, caging me in with his huge frame.

And just like before, I had to crane my neck up to look at him.

“You’d rather stand in the rain for an hour than take a spin from me?” he asked, eyes wild and heated. “Why?”

Because your on-again/off-again girlfriend may or may not want to cause grievous bodily harm to me.

Because the first time I got in a car with you, it ended badly.

Because the second time I got in a car with you, I almost told you secrets.

And mostly because the way you make me feel scares me.

When I didn’t respond, because I honestly couldn’t, Johnny let out another growl but this one sounded like he was frustrated. “Are you mad at me?”

“Mad at you?” I shook my head, eyes wide. “No, no, of course I’m not.”

“Then why are you being like this?”

“Being like what?”

“Avoiding me,” he said quietly.

“I’m not,” I lied. “I just…I just…”

“You just what, Shannon?”

I shrugged, at a complete loss for words.

He shook his head, dropped his bag on the ground, and then reached forward, swiping my schoolbag off my shoulders – both shoulders, and with minimal effort.

Shocked, I watched as he tossed my bag on the ground alongside his before lowering the zipper on his designer looking jacket and shrugging it off.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I strangled out, teeth chattering from the cold.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he countered as he reached behind me and placed the hood of his jacket on my head and wrapped it around my shoulders. “You’re getting soaked out here.”

“But you won’t have a jacket,” I blurted out.

“But you will,” he shot back. “Now, are you going to put your arms in the sleeves, or am I going to have to do it for you?”

When I failed to assist him, quite frankly I was too stunned to do anything other than gape at him, Johnny grabbed both ends of the jacket and zipped it up to my chin, leaving my hands trapped at my sides, the empty sleeves swaying beside me.

He pulled the hood forward, covering my hair from the rain, and then reached down and grabbed both of our bags.

“Now,” he said, nodding his approval, as he tossed a bag over either shoulder. “Let’s go. I’m taking you home. Ma’s probably waiting down by the gates.”

“Your mother?” I squeezed out.

“Yes,” he replied. “My car’s in the garage for a service.”

“But I don’t know your mother,” I blurted out. I tried to flail my arms out for emphasis, but the zipped jacket gave me little room to do so.

“You know me,” was his response.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but Johnny strode off down the footpath – with my school bag.

“Move your legs, Shannon,” he called out over his shoulder, not looking back at me. “Before we both get struck down with pneumonia.”

I was so gobsmacked by his actions that I did exactly what Johnny told me to.

I moved my legs.

Hurrying after him, I weaved around the rain puddles and cracks in the pavement.

It was hard enough to keep up with him in my two-inch heels, and damn near impossible to keep my balance with my arms trapped to my sides.

“Crap,” I squeaked when I miscalculated a jump and landed in the freezing puddle.

It wasn’t a regular puddle either.

No, this was an Irish puddle, consisting of a good five inches of muddy, sludgy, ice-cold rain water.

Immediately, the water

Hopping on one foot, I wrestled an arm out beneath the jacket and pulled off my shoe.

Tipping it upside down, I watched in dismay as a slosh of water spilled out.

My poor sock was drenched through.

My calves were specked with leaves and brown slush.

I groaned in dismay as I slipped my foot back into my shoe, then proceeded to empty the other shoe.

“What are you doing?” Johnny called out from up ahead of me.

“There’s water in my shoe,” I called back, while muttering a string of curse words all directed at the Irish weather. “I can’t walk in them like this. Just give me a sec– whoa…”

My shoe slipped from my grasp and I lunged for it.

Bad idea considering I was balancing on one foot and my arms were trapped.

Feeling like a noodle, I managed to snag my shoe mid-air, only to lose it again when I couldn’t find my footing.

My shoe flew out of my hand and I flailed backwards, trying and failing to keep myself upright.

Knowing it was a lost cause, I gave up the battle and braced my body for the impact I was sure to feel.

I fell backwards, my ass grazing the concrete for the briefest moment, before I was heaved back up.

With one hand fisted in the front of the jacket I was wearing, Johnny quite literally held me hovering off the ground like my body was something obscenely miniscule and weightless.

It wasn’t.

I weighed six stone three pounds, but you wouldn’t have guessed it by the way he dangled me from one arm.

“Nice catch,” I finally breathed, looking up at his face with a mixture of shock and admiration, as he held my entire body up with one hand.

His lips twitched. “Thanks.”

“Well, you’re definitely better at catching than throwing.”

Smirking, Johnny dragged me to my feet before pulling the zipper of the jacket open and freeing my hands.

“Better?” he asked, his hands settling on the slight curves of my waist.

Not really because I could feel the heat of his hands on my body, and even though a full layer of clothes separated his touch from my flesh, I still felt it all the way down to my toes.

This was bad.

This was so not good.

Red-faced and blushing, I latched onto his forearms, balancing on my one sheathed foot, and blurted out the only thing I could think of in this moment, “I don’t want to get beaten up.”

His hands tightened on my waist as he stared down at my face. “Who would beat you up?”

“Your girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he replied slowly, wariness and confusion etched on his face. “You know this.”

“Bella.”

“Did she say something to you?” Johnny demanded, tone hard, expression angry.

I shook my head.

He cocked a brow. No?”

“No,” I confirmed quietly.

“You’re sure she hasn’t said anything to you?” he probed.

“I’m sure,” I replied. “But I don’t want to give her a reason to.”

Johnny stared hard at me and repeated his earlier statement with a few tweaks. “She was never my girlfriend, Shannon.”

“Yeah, well, a couple of the girls in my class were saying that you had a –”

“You were talking about me?” he interrupted, a hard edge to his tone. “With them?”

“No.” I shook my head. “They were talking about you. To me.”

Johnny arched an indignant brow. “Is there a difference?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “A big one.” I swallowed deeply and shook my head. “Listen, Johnny, I don’t need…I can’t get into any more …” Exhaling a ragged breath, I forced myself to look at him. “I don’t want to get hurt because you spoke to me.” My words came out fast and breathy. “I don’t need that kind of trouble in my life. I’m not a fighter. I need to keep my head down and get through school with no drama.”

There was a long pause of silence where neither of us spoke.

“You think I’d let anyone hurt you?” Johnny finally asked, his eyes dark and intense and focused solely on my face. “You think I’d let anything bad happen to you, Shannon like the river?”

I stared up at him, unsure of what to say and uncertain of my feelings.

When I didn’t respond, Johnny released a low growl and shook his head, causing droplets of rain to spray my face.

“Because I won’t,” he answered his own question by saying. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you,” he added, blue eyes dark and locked on mine. “Because I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, okay?”

I nodded uncertainly. “Okay?”

He watched me carefully, eyes heated and locked on mine. “Do you believe me?”

“I want to,” I breathed as my fingers dug into the hard plains of his shoulders –my body’s helpless reaction to his words.

God, I want to…

“Good,” he replied gruffly, stepping closer, hands tightening on my waistline. “I want that, too.”

A strange heaviness settled over us then as the never-ending cycle of rain continued to pelt down.

Like a pressured sensation.

Like the air had grown thin around us.

He was staring down at me, looking both annoyed and excited.

It was a confusing look.

I didn’t know what to make of it.

A huge, black Range Rover SUV pulled up alongside us then, breaking the weird tension, and saving me from blurting out something dangerous.

The tinted-out window rolled down and a woman’s head popped out.

“Johnny?” the woman inside the Range Rover called out. She was blonde and beautiful and looked mildly horrified as she stared at us. “What are you doing to that poor girl?”

“That’s my Ma,” Johnny muttered, glancing briefly at his mother before returning his attention to me. “Come on.”

“Wait!” I croaked out, gripping his arms before he could go, still balancing on one foot. “What about my shoe?”

Johnny glanced down at my feet and then behind me.

Releasing a heavy sigh, he hooked an arm around my waist, pulled me to his side, hoisted me clean off the ground, and walked us over to the jeep.

He yanked the back door open with one hand and deposited me into the backseat with the other before jogging back to the footpath to retrieve our discarded bags.

“I’m soaking wet,” I warned, feeling embarrassed at the thought of ruining the expensive upholstery of the car.

“Seriously, Johnny,” I added with a shiver when he returned to the door with our bags. “I’m soaked right through my clothes.”

His lips twitched for the briefest moment and then he shook his head as if waving off an unwelcome thought that had come to him.

“Ma, this is my, ah – this is Shannon,” he acknowledged, looking clearly uncomfortable. He cast a nervous glance to me and then turned back to his mother, clearing his throat twice before adding, “She’s my uh… she’s new.” He shoved me further into the back seat of his mother’s jeep and then tossed both bags in alongside me. “I told her we’d drop her home.”

“Hello, Shannon,” his mother said, turning in her seat to flash me a megawatt smile.

“Shannon, this is my Ma,” he announced gruffly. “I’ll, ah, go and find your shoe.”

He closed the car door then, locking me inside with his mother, and jogged away.

Mortified, I slumped into the backseat of his mother’s Range Rover.

Well, this wasn’t awkward.

This wasn’t awkward at all.

Trying not to hyperventilate with burning discomfort was surprisingly difficult considering I was sure full-blown hypothermia was setting in.

“N-nice to m-meet you, Mrs. Kavanagh,” I chattered, knees bopping restlessly, as I rubbed my hands up and down my arms.

I was so unbelievably out of my comfort zone that I had no clue what to do.

Knowing that I was dripping water all over this kind lady’s leather interior wasn’t helping matters either. “Th-thank you f-for the s-spin.”

“It’s Edel, love,” she replied, sou

Muttering several profanities to herself, Mrs. Kavanagh pressed a button on the door and her window rolled down.

“Johnny!” she called out. “What are you doing running around in the rain, ya bleeding eejit? Get in!”

“He’s looking for a shoe,” I pointed out, cheeks flaming. “My shoe – I dropped it.” More like flung it. “He’s trying to find it for me.”

Mrs. Kavanagh turned around to grin at me, but her smile faltered, her expression morphing into a concerned frown.

“Oh, god,” she gasped. “Look at you shaking. You must be perished.”

I was perished.

I was beyond perished.

My body was jolting violently as the dampness of my clothes continued to assault my skin.

Johnny’s mother turned the heater on full blast, and I groaned in relief as a wave of heat hit my face.

She slipped the chunky knit cardigan she was wearing off her shoulders and draped it over my legs.

“Now, pet,” she said in a soothing tone. “We’ll get you warmed up in no time.”

“Th-thank you s-so much,” I replied as I slowly withered inside. Her small act of kindness was overwhelming to me. “I don’t want to d-dirty your c-cardigan.”

“That’s what washing machines are for,” she replied, smile returning.

Whoa, Johnny’s mother was beautiful.

And extremely well dressed.

Seriously, her clothes were like wow.

Everything matched, from her earrings to her belt.

Fashion designer, remember, my brain hissed, of course she’s going to look good.

With blonde hair and brown eyes, Mrs. Kavanagh didn’t look much like her son, but he had definitely inherited her bone structure and full lips.

Johnny was right about her Dublin accent though; it was thick and much more distinct than his.

“Looks like you have a fan,” Mrs. Kavanagh added, pointing to where Johnny was jogging up and down the footpath, scouring the ground and dikes for my missing shoe.

Crap, I hoped it hadn’t floated away in the drain water.

Dad would hit the roof if I came home with another expense.

“He’s done a terrible job of keeping you quiet.” Mrs. Kavanagh added with a smile. “I saw you in the papers with him the other week. Beautiful picture, love. You two look absolutely stunning together.”

Did she think…

“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

“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,

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.

When we stepped into the house, Johnny released my elbow and closed the door behind us.

Meanwhile, I stood in the enormous entrance hall and tried my best not to stare at the antique hall table lining the wall or the expensive looking coat rack just inside the door, and I definitely tried not to gape at the huge grandfather clock, ticking loudly, or the countless paintings lining the immaculate ivory walls.

When Johnny kicked off his shoes, I automatically copied him, not wanting to traipse mud on the perfectly polished black and white patterned tiles.

I’d stood in this very hall a little over a week ago, but I had been too nervous to take in my surroundings.

I was still nervous.

Maybe even more nervous.

But it was different today.

There was no Joey or Gibsie to distract me.

It was just me and Johnny.

And his mother.

Oh, god…