“Come on, Shan. Let’s go make some bleeding babies.” “The garage is outside, son,” Mr. Kavanagh said, laughing. “Don’t talk to me,” Johnny choked out, upping his pace. “Keep your bedroom door open, Jonathan,” Mrs. Kavanagh called after us. “Fuck off, the pair of ye,” he roared, pulling me up the staircase. “And put some clothes on. My friends are on the way over.” “Uh, I don’t want to make any babies today, Johnny,” I croaked out, hurrying up the steps after him. “Me either, Shan,” he grumbled, leading me down the landing to his bedroom. “And I couldn’t if I wanted to because it’s gone.”
