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“Uh, okay?” Blowing out a shaky breath, I gingerly shifted my legs onto his lap. “Is that good for you?” “Yeah, Shan.” Offering me a small smile, he reached for his bottle of water and took a swig. “You’re good for me.” “Huh?” “It,” he correctly gruffly, and then roughly cleared his throat. “It’s good for me.”
AHHHHHHHHHHHH
“Hey, Johnny, I think your friends are here.” I was fairly sure I heard Johnny mutter the words dear god, no under his breath moments before several of his teammates came barreling toward us, disrupting everyone in their seats as they pushed through the crowds and settled in the seats in front of ours. “Well, if it isn’t I’m Too Busy to Go to the Cinema,” one of them scoffed, tossing a piece of popcorn at Johnny’s head.
Lmaoooooo
“Yeah,” another one snorted. “Other plans to get his dick—” “Finish that sentence and I’ll wring your bleeding neck, Pierce,” Johnny growled, tossing a handful of popcorn right back at them. “Now, turn around and fuck right off.”
My face burned with heat, and I had to clasp my hands together to stop them from trembling at the thought. Date. Girlfriend. He didn’t deny it, Shannon. He’s not denying it.
Fucked. That was the only word in my vocabulary to define the way I was feeling right now. If I was to add another word to the sentiment, then it would be royally. Yeah, I was royally fucked.
At one point, I made the near-fatal mistake of holding her hand. Why? Only God knew the answer to that particular conundrum. Apparently, I had issues. A lot of them. Issues that seemed to begin with the first name Shannon and end with the last name Lynch. Jesus.
My pint-sized companion was not a fan of horror.
Shannon Lynch utterly disarmed me.
Without meaning to or even trying, Shannon soaked up every sliver of my attention. It wasn’t a healthy feeling, but it was an addictive one. Usually, I couldn’t wait to be done with the cinema, or any other mundane excursion that didn’t revolve around rugby, but not tonight. Not with this girl.
“I had the best time.” The best time? She spent most of the film cowering into her hands. “Me too,” I heard myself say, and oddly enough, it was the truth. “We should do it again sometime.” Fuck. My. Life. “I mean…”
“You’ll, uh, you’ll be okay, yeah?” I called after her, feeling a dull ache in my chest as I watched her leave my car. Leave me. “You’ll be safe?” “Safe?” she whispered, blinking rapidly. “Safe,” I confirmed, unwilling to break eye contact or take back my words.
After Johnny dropped me home last night, there was a blazing row that resulted in my father beating the living shit out of me, mostly over that stupid newspaper clipping that he still wouldn’t let drop. Mam dragged him off me, earning herself a slap in the face for her troubles. She ordered him to leave and never come back.
I hate him
Setting to work on the bottomless list of jobs allocated to me on a weekly basis, I cleaned the house from top to bottom, washing down skirting boards and changing all the bedsheets as I went. By eight o’clock Saturday evening, I had gone through four loads of laundry, cooked both lunch and dinner for my brothers, bathed and dressed Sean for bed, and cleaned the house to within an inch of my life.
If I failed my next round of tests, I would be back under the knife and out of action for a further four to six weeks. That meant it would be early to mid-May before I would see a pitch again. That meant I would lose my shot.
In the middle of my personal breakdown, my mind continued to focus on the one person I needed to not think about. Shannon like the river, with those midnight blue eyes…
“Of course you’re sore,” he shot back. “You’re not giving your body time to repair itself, you never bloody rest, and you haven’t had pussy in months.” Winking, he added, “It’s time to take your balls off ice and put your shifting jacket on.” “My shifting jacket?” A smile cracked through my bad mood. “What are we, thirteen again and heading to the underage disco?” “I’m wearing my shifting T-shirt,” he replied proudly, flexing his biceps for emphasis. “It has a one-hundred-percent success rate.”
Lmaooooo
“You must be fucking amazing in bed,” Gibsie mused. “If she’s hunting you down like this.” “Not the point, Gibs,” I growled. “No means no, lad.”
“Even little Shannon?” he tossed out with a grin. My heart leaped in my chest at the sound of her name.
“You like the girl,” he continued to taunt. “Maybe you even loooooooovv—”
“It looks worse than it feels.” That was a lie. My face was killing me. Every inch of my body was in agony. I was black and blue from head to toe. Thankfully, the only visible evidence of last night was a small shiner on my cheekbone. It was the rest of my body that had taken the brunt of his fury.
My only saving grace was it was cold out and I could hide my bruises with baggy sweatpants and long-sleeved shirts.
My lie didn’t seem to comfort my brother, though. He just stared back at me, looking broken and defeated. “I’m so fucking sorry, Shan,” my brother choked out, dropping his head in his hands. “I should have been here.” Joey ...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
“She’s still your mother,” Aoife replied sadly. “And she’s worse than him,” my brother shot back. “Leaving those kids here on their own.” He ran a hand through his blond hair and growled. “She could pick up the phone and talk to the boys, but no, like always, she runs and buries her head in the sand.”
Joey’s girlfriend was absolutely stunning, with an envious figure, long blond hair, and a beautiful face, but tonight she looked shook. Aoife was in love with my brother, so I guessed that explained the horrified look on her face and the way she constantly stroked her fingers over the back of his hand.
“You know I’d help if I could,” I croaked out, feeling like deadweight around my brother’s neck. “But he won’t let me get a job—” “Stop,” Joey commanded. “Don’t even think about taking on blame for this, Shan.” But I did. I felt incredibly guilty. There was something about me that caused all this pain.
Mam took a beating from my father because of me. Because he hated me. I was the problem.
“He can’t keep doing this to you,” she quickly explained. “And you’re both here alone looking after three small children… It’s not right or fair on any of you.” “No, it’s not right or fair on us,” Joey snapped. “But Shannon and I have been down that road before, and there’s no fucking way we’re going back there.”
Ignoring my silent protests, Joey went into a full-on rant, revealing our biggest fear, the one that kept us silent for most of our lives. “When we were small. Before the boys were born—when it was just Darren, Shannon, and myself—the three of us were put into care for six months.” Aoife’s eyes widened and I smothered a groan. “You never told me that.”
Tears filled my eyes because I knew what Joey was going to say next. “Joe, please don’t,” I begged. “He was sent to a care home where things happened to him,” Joey choked out. “Things that aren’t supposed to happen to children.” Aoife clasped her hand over her mouth. “Are you saying…?” Joey nodded stiffly.
My heart hurts
“Darren was never the same again, and neither was our father.” Sighing wearily, he added, “He actually wasn’t too bad a guy before that. But after it all came out about Darren, the old man lost his fucking mind. He couldn’t get over it and turned to the drink. Got this ridiculous fucking notion into his head that what happened to Darren had somehow turned him.”
“Myself and Shannon have each other,” Joey interrupted, gesturing a finger between us. “That’s it.” “Not anymore,” Aoife told my brother. “You have me.” Reaching across the table, she covered his hand with hers and smiled weakly. “All of you.”
Joey’s shoulders visibly sagged as he snatched her hand up and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Christ, I love you,” he told her, voice low and gruff. I turned away because it was too hard to watch. I loved Aoife Molloy. I truly loved the girl as a sister. But I also resented her.
From her, Joey was receiving a form of love he’d been denied his whole life. And if that girl jumped, he would jump right along with her. I wouldn’t blame him. Given the chance, I would jump, too. But knowing that his time in this house was coming to an end made it hard for me to breathe. I could feel it coming down the tracks like a freight train.
He’d taken eighteen years of beatings and abuse. I wasn’t sure he could take much more.
“I am starving and I know you both must be, too. So, I am going to make a food run to the chipper and it will be my treat.” Joey shook his head. “Aoife, I told you—” “My treat, babe,” she interrupted, giving my brother a hard look. “Now, are you coming with me?” “Yeah, I’ll come,” Joey muttered, climbing to his feet. “You’re not driving around the town in the middle of the night by yourself.”
I love them omg
“Nothing thanks,” I replied, forcing down a yawn. “I’m going to head up to bed.” “Don’t tell me you’re as stubborn as your brother and won’t take a bloody bag of chips?” Aoife frowned. “You’re too skinny, girl,” she added, concern laced in her eyes again. “We need to put some meat on those bones.” I smiled at her flustered expression. “I’m honestly too tired to eat.”
Crawling up my bed, I shuffled under my duvet and snuggled up, knowing that with my parents gone, I would sleep better tonight than I had in months. That’s how messed up my life was.
“Sit down. I’ll get a round of pints in.” “Vodka, Gibs,” I corrected, knowing I was going to need something a hell of a lot stronger than the beer that was on tap to get through tonight. “A double vodka and Red Bull—and a shitload of shots.” Fuck getting sober. I was going all out. Gibsie could take care of me for once.
Patrick was a quiet fish, and even though we’d been friends for the bones of seven years, I didn’t know a great deal about him aside from the fact that he was evasive, quiet, and had a tendency to back out of plans at the last minute.
For some unknown reason, Hughie was obsessed with the tiny redhead under his arm. Had been since she walked through the doors of Tommen as a fresh-faced first year.
Devotion had to feel better than being used did.
“Bottoms up, Cap,” he announced, slapping the tray down in front of me. “Cheers.” Not bothering to ask what was on offer tonight, knowing I’d drink petrol with the mood I was in, I grabbed two shot glasses off the tray and tossed them back.
Propping himself on the stool in front of me, Gibs thankfully blocked my view. “I’m prettier to look at,” he announced with a wink and then proceeded to toss back shots like it was going out of fashion. I could always depend on this fucker. Hail, rain, or snow, Gibsie had my back.
Lmaoooooo
“Okay, folks, this next song is from Reckless Kelly,” the lead singer announced over the microphone, distracting me from my drunken thoughts. He strummed on his guitar and then added, “‘Wicked Twisted Road.’”
Unsurprisingly—but still completely messed up—it was Shannon’s face that flittered through my mind as the lyrics forced their way into my sluggish brain. Shannon with the lonesome eyes. A lifetime of striving to be the best. The fear of not being good enough. And the constant, sinking feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.
Fuck, I wanted to hear her voice on the other side of that line. This girl is different, my stupid fucking brain chanted. This one is for keeps.
I wanted to be back in my room, with my phone pressed to my ear, listening to her stumble over her words as she told me every one of her thoughts. I wanted to be back here with her, watching her blush and smile and peek up at me through those long thick lashes. I wanted to be sitting in that dark cinema with her, not paying an ounce of attention to the film showing, while I stole secret glances at her and burned in heat when I found her eyes on me. I just wanted her.
“We have to play together and I don’t want any bad blood.” “The window of time to talk to me about this was months ago,” I replied in a flat tone. “And considering we were playing together when you decided to fuck me over, I find that hard to believe.”
“It means keep an eye on your teammates, lad,” I shot back. “Because that one’s not girlfriend material.” His eyes narrowed. “Come outside and say that to my face.” “I’m saying it right here,” I deadpanned. “To your face.”
At six feet, both lads were evenly matched in height, but Gibsie outweighed Cormac by a good thirty pounds because on the pitch, Cormac was a skilled runner and Gibs was a highly charged battering ram.
