Binding 13 (Boys of Tommen, #1)

by Chloe Walsh

I was wrong, though. Everything changed after that day. Everything.

starting 13 for the esteemed youth team.

“I’m an asshole,” I informed her, shifting her pink schoolbag back onto my back as I tucked her in closer. “I fuck up a

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“What?” Her words threw me enough to cause me to halt. “No.” Twisting my body so I could look down at her face, I frowned and s...

And for some strange, disconcerting reason, I was burning the fuck up on the inside.

“What do you mean she was attacked?”

Who could attack her? She was so small. And frail.

fuck me, I unintentionally sucked in a sharp breath. Jesus, this girl was beautiful.

But now, seeing her up close like this and being able to count the freckles on her face—eleven by the way—it was hitting home just how striking she was.

“That’s really your face?” she asked, eyes drooping, as she studied me with a vacant expression. “It’s so pretty.”

she pulled her legs up on the bench and settled herself down for a nice old kip on my cock. Fuck my life.

“What’s this from?” “My dad,” she replied, breathing out a heavy sigh. My hand stilled as my brain registered her fucked-up answer. “Come again?”

Thank fuck for that, because you’re ruining all of me right now, I thought to myself.

It looked better on her though, I begrudgingly acknowledged. She could keep it.

In a way, my childhood was robbed from me because of my ability to play rugby.

But go anywhere near that girl, and God himself won’t be able to save you.”

She begged me to be a child.

I trusted my gut and pursued my dreams with relentless drive, taking comfort in the fact that I was almost there.

A girl, a fucking female I’d known for no longer than two hours, had managed to do what no one else ever had: knock me off-kilter. Shannon like the river was on my mind, and I didn’t fucking like it.

was an obsessive bastard by nature, with a one-track mind that was currently—and solely—programmed on her. I had to know more. I needed more.

“Boys with pretty eyes and big muscles mess everything up for girls,”

eyes the color of midnight blue that wouldn’t stay the fuck out of my head.

“Look at her, Johnny,” he groaned, ignoring my jab. “Look at how beautiful that girl is. Christ, it might be that sunshine hair, but I swear she glows.”

“But I’ve a feeling that I’m going to marry her.”

“Keep looking out for her, Cap,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “God knows someone needs to.”

I can give you a spin home when you want to go? What the actual fuck? I might as well have shouted, Love me, fucking love me at the girl.

“You’re only mentally undressing her in your head.” “I am not,” I growled, glaring at him from across the table. I was. I so fucking was. Christ, was I that obvious?

Number 7. Gerard “Gibsie” Gibson. Claire’s crush. The cat walker. The strange one.

“Hey.” I felt his fingers brush against the back of my hand, his voice closer now, soft and probing. “Where’d you go?”

rolled my eyes. “I’m not a baby, Ma.” “You’re my baby,” she countered. “And you always will be. I don’t care if you grow to seven feet tall. You’ll still be my little Johnny.”

“I’m sick of feeling scared all the time.” “I know.” He patted my back and then stood. “One of these days, everything will be better. I promise.”

“Shannon.” She finally got on with it and said, “I know you feel like we don’t… That sometimes your father isn’t very… I just want you to know that I love all my children equally, but you’re my special one.” That was a lie. I wasn’t her special anything.

“You are so concerned with fighting the bullies at school, Mam,” I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks, “when the biggest bully of them all lives under this roof.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of it, Mam?” I asked, voice breaking. Blinking back my tears, I choked out, “Don’t you ever get sick to death of pretending?”

“What happened?” he demanded, glaring down at me. “Who the fuck made you cry?” “What?” I breathed, shaking my head. “I’m not crying.” “Your eyes are red and swollen,” he deadpanned. “You’ve been crying.” His eyes moved to my cheek. “The fuck happened to your face?”

“Give me a name,” Johnny growled, dropping his hands to his hips. “And I’ll take care of it.” “What—no! I’m grand,” I quickly replied. “I have allergies.” “Me too. To assholes and bullshit,” Johnny snarled. “Now, tell me who made you cry and I’ll fix it.”

“But I understand fear, which makes it easier for me to understand why you would feel the need to play through the pain.”

worried me further was why this happened. Shannon was clearly an anxiety puker. It was as good as written in her school file. For Christ’s sake, she brought a toothbrush to school with her.

“Relax,” Johnny whispered in my ear, distracting me from my memories. “You’re safe with me.”

“Now,” I sneered, glaring down at their faces. “Who wants to call my girlfriend a whore to my face?”

“I’ll protect you, Shannon like the river.” He held my hand. Johnny Kavanagh actually put my hand in his.

No, he was perfect. God hadn’t made a single mistake with this particular boy.

“Yeah, Shan.” Offering me a small smile, he reached for his bottle of water and took a swig. “You’re good for me.”

“No, Shannon, we’re not going anywhere.” Clearing his throat, he added, “I want to be here with you. It’s these other spanners I’m having a problem with.”

I didn’t care if it would hurt me. I didn’t care, period. Because I was vulnerable around this girl. Shannon Lynch utterly disarmed me.

“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.”

“He was sent to a care home where things happened to him,” Joey choked out. “Things that aren’t supposed to happen to children.”

“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.”

“Christ, I love you,” he told her, voice low and gruff.