“Joe,” I croaked out. “It’s okay—” “No.” His voice cracked. “No, Shan,” he whispered, keeping his back to me. “It’s really not.” “We have another issue,” Darren added, breaking the palpable tension. Tearing my eyes off Joey’s back, I looked back to Darren. “What?” “Johnny Kavanagh.” Joey grunted in what sounded like approval. “Wh-what?” Shaking my head, I fought down the tsunami of butterflies trying to claw their way out of my throat. “What does Johnny have to do with any of this?” “Fucker figured it out on his own,” Joey muttered to himself, keeping his back to us. “Must be worth something
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