Keeping 13 (Boys of Tommen, #2)

by Chloe Walsh

“Good,” I replied, tone clipped, as I tried to catch my breath and process this. “I’m going to need him to take my case when I go down for murder.” “Think he’ll represent me, too?” Gibsie asked. Shrugging, he added, “When you’re embarking on hell, it’s always good to have a buddy.”

“Well, she needs to step the fuck back from my son,” Mam growled, visibly trembling with anger. “I won’t have it, Johnny. Do you hear me? I won’t have it! She’s a very lucky lady that it was your father with you tonight and not me!” “Step the fuck back?” My mouth fell open. “You planning on throwing down, Ma?”

Mam huffed again. “Well, had your father spent thirty-six hours on the flat of his back, trying to push all eight pounds twelve ounces of you out of his arse, he might feel different.” “Jesus Christ.” I shuddered at the glorious visual of my entry into the world. “Thanks for the mental image.”

“She’ll kill me,” Gibsie pointed out. “You do get that, don’t you? Your mother will murder me.” “I’ll take full responsibility,” I countered. “Just do this for me, Gibs.” “Fine,” he snapped, throwing his hands up. “Call your fucking doctors. Ask them if they’re familiar with surgery that involves removal of a woman’s high heel from someone’s asshole, because that’s what’s going to happen to me when I take her baby out of this house, Johnny. She is going to hurt me.” Groaning, he added, “Tell them to book me a bloody bed. I’m going to need one.”

“Hi, Johnny,” she whispered, tumbling off the door step as she clung to me. “You came back.” “Hi, Shannon.” My crutches fell to the ground as I wrapped my arms around her body, holding her in place. “I promised I would,”

“You love his sister, and I love his sister’s best friend,” Gibsie replied, scrubbing Joey down with a sponge. “It’s safe to say that pussy got us into this, Kav.”

“Fuck you, Kav—” More vomiting. “That’s it,” Gibsie coaxed, dabbing his mouth once more. “Puke out all the expensive Class A drugs. Good job. Let the water wash your sins and wages down the drain.”

“With all due respect, Shan, fuck them.” My eyes widened. It was beyond rare to hear Claire curse and never about parents. “Fuck. Them,” she added with a meaningful stare. “Yes! Fuck them,” Gibsie cheered. “You tell her, babe.” “Shush, Gerard,”

“We don’t all think with our genitals,” she countered. “Considering my genitals were recently sewn back on with a needle and thread, I’d say that’s very true,” he shot back huffily. “Needle and thread.” Gibsie snickered. “Nice visual, lad.” “Shut up, Gerard!” Johnny and Claire both growled in unison. “You know, if you’re looking for a stallion, you can always saddle me up,” Gibsie tossed back. “Shut up, Gerard!” “Shutting up, Claire-Bear.”

“Yeah, we’re not doing this anymore.” “Huh?” I stared at him, wide-eyed and petrified. “Wh-what do you mean?” “I’m going to buy you dinner, Shannon.” Closing the space between us, he lowered himself down on the couch and turned to face me. “Sometimes we’ll eat here and sometimes we’ll go out, but it’s going to be a regular occurrence, so don’t overthink it, okay?”

“Tonight, it’s a shitty pizza,” he said. “Because I can’t drive and all the good spots in town are closed early on Mondays, but I’ll do better next time.” “I don’t need better,” I said softly. “I like pizza.” But I love you.

“I don’t just like you. I fucking—” Shaking his head, Johnny rubbed his jaw before looking back at me. “Shannon, I love you.” I stopped breathing. “You love me?” He nodded slowly, blue eyes locked on mine. “Like, a crazy fucking amount.” “Really?” “Really,” he confirmed.

“Shannon Lynch?” I called out, ignoring the rest of her fucked-up family. “I love you back.” Sniffling, she lifted her chin from Joey’s chest and looked at me all red-eyed and blotchy. “S-still?” “Still.” I nodded in confirmation. “Like, a crazy fucking amount.”

“You can’t talk to me like that,” she challenged, shaking now. Gibsie arched a brow. “And why not?” “Because!” she spat out, flustered. “Because—” “Because I have a dick and you have a pussy?” he offered knowingly. “Oh, please. I’m a twenty-first-century guy. I support equal rights for everyone, which includes the right for me, a dick owner, to tell a stalkerish female, such as yourself, to fuck off!” “That was impressive,” Hughie mused. “I’m an impressive guy,” Gibs shot back with a smirk.

“Aww,” Claire gushed, clutching her chest with both hands. “I love them together.” She feigned swooning before adding, “It’s like a Great Dane and a Chihuahua trying to mate, but they somehow make it work.”

Mrs. Allen stepped closer to Gibsie and he comically dived backwards. “Keep that beast away from me,” he choked out, eyeing Brian warily. “I don’t trust him, Mam.” “Ah, he’s harmless.” Mrs. Allen laughed. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you, Brian?” “No, the flies are grand because his issue is with me,” Gibsie grumbled. “Isn’t it, Brian?” The cat hissed and Gibsie leapt behind me. “You’re going to have to do something about his behavior,” he warned his mother. “I don’t feel safe in my home anymore.”

Holding his hands up in defeat, he said, “Now clear out of the bathroom, will ye? I need to get ready. I’m picking up Katie in half an hour.” “Katie…” Claire mocked, fluttering her eyelashes. “Make sure you wash your willy for Katie.” “There is something very wrong with you,” Hughie replied, scowling at his sister. “Mam and Dad brought the wrong baby home from the hospital.”

“Last time,” I choked out, clenching my eyes shut only to think better of it. “Watch out for the—” My words broke off and I held my breath as Shannon swerved. “Pothole,” I finished, exhaling a shaky breath. “This is exactly like GTA,” she said, laughing. “Except there’s no restart button,” I groaned. “So please don’t kill us.”

“Open the door, Shannon,” Darren demanded, banging loudly. “Right now.” “Fuck off,” Johnny mouthed, giving my bedroom door the middle finger. “Asshole.”

“God!” Turning back to Johnny, I mouthed, “What do I do?” “Open the door,” he replied. I shook my head. “No way.” He nodded. “Yes, way.” “Johnny.” “Shannon.” “Shannon Maud Lynch, open the fucking door or I’m going to kick it down!” Darren bellowed. Johnny arched a brow. “Your middle name is Maud?” Cringing, I nodded. “My parents hate me.” He grimaced in sympathy. “Ouch.”

“You have issues,” Gibsie accused, sounding horrified. “You have serious fucking issues with taking things that aren’t yours. You’re like a kleptomaniac but with humans!”

“What’s this about you kidnapping the Lynch children?” My father chuckled as he strolled into the kitchen, looking amused. However, the instant his eyes landed on the three boys standing next to me, his smile vanished. “Oh dear.”

Joey the hurler: Why are you texting me? J: Because I took your brothers and they’re at my house. Joey the hurler: Why? J: I don’t know. Joey the hurler: Do you plan on giving them back? J: I guess. Joey the hurler: You’re really fucked up, Kavanagh. J: I know. Joey the hurler: I’m on my way.

Swatting the back of my head with the condom box, she hissed, “You little toe-rag!” before marching back out of the room, screaming, “John! Call the parish priest. That child of yours needs confession!”

My mouth fell open and my heart kick-started in my chest when my eyes landed on the huge boy balancing on the veranda outside my window. “Johnny!” I gasped, as I pushed my window open and stared at him in pure shock. “How did you get up here?” “I climbed up on your wheelie bin,” he choked out as he lunged for the windowsill. “Let me in before I die.”

“Tequila again?” Feely glared at Gibsie. “Really?” “Listen, I’m not going to sit here and apologize for something that happened a million years ago,” Gibsie huffed. “I puked on your dog, Feely. It was a genuine mistake. I’ve done it to Sookie a million times, and you don’t see her giving me the cold shoulder. And I haven’t done it since, so can we please move past it?” “I don’t have a dog. That was my mother you puked on!” Feely snapped, sounding outraged. “And it was last Christmas, not a million years ago, asshole.” “What?” Gibsie frowned. “That was your mam?” “Yes, asshole!” “Ah, lad, I’m so fucking sorry,” Gibsie choked out, slapping a hand across his mouth. “I thought she was a dog.”

“Je veux lécher la chatte de ma copine.” I frowned. “What?” Johnny grinned devilishly. “I said, je veux être à l’intérieur de toi.” I scrunched my nose up. “You know I’m terrible at French.” “I’m counting on it.” He laughed as he sauntered off. “See you tonight, baby.”

“You’re so fucked in the head,” Hughie snickered. “Could be worse,” Gibsie shot back with a grin. “We could be like you two.” “Oh yeah?” Hughie taunted. “And how’s that?” “Yeah,” Gibsie agreed, smirking. “Bebop and Rocksteady.” “I’m not Bebop or Rocksteady!” Hughie huffed, looking offended. “If I’m anything, I’m Robin!” “Uh-huh.” Gibsie snickered. “And you say I’m fucked in the head? Yeah, okay, Bebop.” “That makes no sense,” Hughie argued. “They’re from two completely different cartoons.” “Exactly,” Gibsie drawled. “Just like we’re on two completely different levels.” Grinning, he held his hand over his head and said, “I’m up here with your sister, and you’re”—he dropped his hand to his waist—“all the way down here…” “Feely, give me the hammer,” Hughie snarled as he stalked toward Gibsie. “I’m going to bury this fucker, once and for all.”

“And don’t you dare give those boys any more treats before their lunch, John.” Scowling at her husband, Mrs. Kavanagh leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his clean-shaven cheek before saying, “Or you won’t be getting your treat.” “Jesus Christ,” Johnny choked out, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Come on, Shan—” Gagging, he grabbed my hand and moved for the gate. “Let’s get out of here before we both start anxious puking.”

“Brian,” Gibsie explained in a glum tone. “Turns out he had an undescended testicle and wasn’t shooting blanks like we thought.” “And that explains why you’re having babies this summer how, exactly?” Katie choked out, eyes-wide. “He had sex with Cherub,” Gibsie wailed. “We caught them at it in Claire’s room back during Easter break. And now she’s pregnant.” “Our cat Cherub?” Hughie demanded. “Brian got her pregnant?” “We’ve had our suspicions for a while, but the vet confirmed it last Wednesday,” Gibsie groaned. “We saw them and everything, didn’t we, babe?” “Uh-huh—on an ultrasound monitor,” Claire agreed. “She’s having six kittens.” “Did you know a cat’s pregnancy can last anything from fifty-six to sixty-seven days?” Gibsie asked. “No,” the rest of us replied.

“It’s going to cost me a small fortune.” Gibsie sighed. “And my mam says that they’re my responsibility because I brought him into her bedroom and I should have known better, but I didn’t fucking know better because I was under the assumption that he was walking around with a permanent condom on his cat dick. But no, he lied to me—lied to the vets, too. He had a sperm-filled ball all along!” “And Cherub’s not the only cat on the street he knocked up, either,” Claire added. “Apparently, Mrs. Lovell’s gray tabby had a litter of snow-white kittens last Tuesday. They had long hair and everything.” “What can I say other than he’s a whore?” Gibsie confirmed with a grim nod. “He’s an abusive, one-bollocked bastard on a mission to impregnate every pussy he gets his claws into—but I’m only standing over Cherub,” he added with a huff. “That’s it. I’ll father them. I’ll do the night feeds with you, Claire. I’ll be there at the birth. But that’s it. Yours are the only babies I’m claiming. I know nothing whatsoever about Mrs. Lovell’s tabby or any other woman’s pregnant pussy. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” “You two are made for each other,” Katie chuckled. “It’s so adorable.” “Don’t tell them that, babe,” Hughie growled. “You’ll give them ideas.” “But they’re having babies together,” Katie pointed out. “They’re already committed.”

“You should skip,” Gibsie encouraged, waggling his brows at her. “Then you’re one year closer to me.” “And what good would that do me?” Claire teased. “It’ll put us ahead of schedule,” he replied, not missing a beat. “It’s a good omen. I can feel it in my balls.” Claire rolled her eyes. “You and your weirdness.” “And his gooch,” Katie offered with a snicker. “Always the gooch,” Gibsie agreed with laugh. “Jesus,” Hughie groaned. “Enough of the gooch already—”

“I’m not having a panic attack, lad.” “You’re not?” I snapped my head back up. “No!” “Then what are you doing?” “I’m taking a shite,” I shot back, causing Shannon to giggle. “Shh,” I mouthed, rubbing myself against her. “Go downstairs and wait for me, Gibs,” I called out. “I’ll be fifteen minutes—” My eyes roamed over her naked body and my dick strained. Fuck. “Maybe twenty.” “Yeah, I see pink knickers on your floor, so I know exactly what kind of shit you’re taking, you lucky bastard,” he called back. “Hey, Little Shannon.” Shannon’s eyes widened. “Uh, hey, Gibsie.” “Nice floral bra, Shan,” he added. “I love the colors—hold on a second! Are you a B cup now?” “Get the fuck out of here,” I roared. “And don’t touch her bra!” “I’m just saying that a full cup size is a big jump in one month,” Gibsie replied. “Fair play, girl. You’re blossoming—” “I’m going to rip your gooch off and feed it to you, ya bleeding pervert,” I snarled, setting Shannon down so I could climb out of the tub. Swinging the bathroom door open, I stalked towards him. “And how the fuck would you know what size bra my girlfriend wears?” “Because I have eyes,” he laughed and then flung Shannon’s bra at me before diving across the bed to get away. “You know when people say they’re a great judge of character? Well, I’m a great judge of tit size–” “I hope you enjoyed your last meal, Gerard,” I snarled, leaping onto my bed stark naked. “Because you’re going to die today.” “You keep that beast away from me!” he ch...

“We left our heavily pregnant cat at home for this, and Claire’s anxious enough about Cherub without all of you breathing down her neck, so if you upset her again, I will legit take leave of my senses and lose the fucking plot.” Eyes bulging, he added, “Don’t push me, because I’m already halfway there!” “Alright, lad,” Hughie coaxed, holding his hands up, eyeing Gibsie warily. “You won’t hear any more complaints from me.” Gibsie nodded stiffly before turning his glare on Lizzie. “And you?” “For Claire’s sake, I’ll suck it up,” Lizzie bit out. “Good.” Readjusting the slab of beer in his hands, Gibsie said, “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I need to go and find somewhere to take a shit because I’ve been holding one in since we left Ballylaggin—and I had a curry last night, so you can only imagine the pressure I’m under right now.”

“Night, love you,” he mumbled, closing his eyes once more. “But it’s morning.” “Shh…sleep.”

“I’m trying to die in peace here, Shannon,” he groaned. “And you’re giving my dick notions.”

“I’ll call you every day,” I vowed as I stood in the middle of Dublin airport with my flight number being called over the intercom. “And I’ll send you a million texts.” “But it won’t be the same.” “I know, but we’ll make it work,” I promised. “How?” “We’ll figure it out, okay? But I need you to stop crying,” I begged. “Please.” “I can’t help it. My heart is breaking here.” “I’ll be home soon,” I coaxed. “It won’t be forever.” “No—no! Just no. You can’t leave me, Johnny!” “I have to go,” I groaned. “Come on, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” “You promise this isn’t a forever goodbye?” “I promise,” I urged, patting his back. “Now, come on, Gibs. You’re cutting off my air supply here.”

“My binding 13.” I choked out a pained laugh, thinking about that stupid bet. “You heard about that?” “Yeah.” Half sobbing, half laughing, Shannon smiled and nodded. “I won.” “Hands down.” I kissed her puffy lips. “Undisputed.” “Now, I’m keeping 13,” she told me. “So come home to me when you’re done, okay?” “I will.”

Katie chuckled, digging her boyfriend in the ribs with her elbow. “Of course we’ll attend the naming ceremony for your kittens, Claire.”

“Don’t tell me you’re encouraging it,” Lizzie chimed in when she returned from the bathroom, tone dripping with sarcasm as she slumped down on the chair next to Hughie. “Claire, they’re cats. Cats don’t need baptismal ceremonies.” “It’s not a baptismal ceremony,” Claire defended, cheeks reddening. “It’s a naming ceremony.” Lizzie cocked a brow. “There’s a difference?” “Yes,” Claire and Gibsie chimed in unison. “Kill me now,” Hughie grumbled, still staring down at his plate.

“Where you go, I go.” “Promise?” “I promise.”

“Get out of the sleeping bag and come have fun with me,” he ordered. “Or I’m going to fart on your girlfriend. And trust me, it’s going to be a ripe one. I was on the cider all day yesterday.” “He’s telling the truth,” Claire added, gagging. “His farts are toxic, guys. I thought he was going to blow us up last night.” “You were farting, too,” he shot back. “Like a ripper.” “I know,” she replied, not missing a beat. “I had to try and drown out yours, didn’t I?” “God, the two of you are beyond fucked up.” Johnny chuckled. “Get up, or I’m releasing the beast,” Gibsie warned. “Do it now or I might slip a salmon out while I’m at it.” “Ew, Gerard,” Claire scolded. “That’s so wrong.” I arched a brow. “A salmon?” “He’s talking about taking a shite,” Johnny confirmed, jerking out of his sleeping bag quicker than a cat. “I’m coming, so go take your salmon and swim it down a river somewhere else.” Gibsie grinned. “Like your girlfr—” “Say it and I’ll kill you.”