by Chloe Walsh
Keeping 13
Boys of Tommen Book two
Chloe Walsh
Contents
Disclaimer
Author's Note
1. Him or Us
2. Balls High
3. Keep Breathing
4. Dropping Pennies and Bombshells
5. I'm Your Brother
6. I'm Not A Liar
7. Not Today
8. Bulldozer
9. Don't Let Me Down
10. Accusations
11. Homeward Bound
12. I'm Alone
13. Cashing In On Favors
14. Jailbreak
15. Beautiful Boys and Broken Brothers
16. Back to The Manor
17. Dangerous Pussy
18. Stay With Me
19. Are You Going To Kiss Me Or Not?
20. A Crazy Fucking Amount
21. Tears, Threats, and Teapots
22. Throwing Down
23. Dirty Laundry
24. Pull Your Balls
25. Back to Tommen
26. Boom, Boom, Fucking, Boom, Buddy
27. Are You With Me?
28. Wrap It Up
29. The Rugby Table
30. Misunderstandings
31. Take My Advice, Or Not
32. Ladder In My Tights
33. Thank You, Jesus
34. Flashing Lights and New Information
35. Tissues and Ejaculation Issues
36. Breaching Walls and Beaches
37. I'll Keep You Safe
38. Pushing Back
39. Date Night
40. I'm Coming!
41. Slamming Doors
42. Crisis Averted. Everyone Breathe
43. Better Safe Than Sorry
44. Bust Ups and Push Ups
45. Fired Up
46. Takeout and Updates
47. Help Her
48. Busted
49. Flying Bras
50. Let's Make Some Bleeding Babies
51. Mannequins and Movies
52. His Daughter
53. You Don't Steal Kids, Lad
54. Pound Shop Razors
55. Don't Open the Door!
56. I Made You A Promise
57. Chest Pains
58. She's In Love With The Boy
59. Enough!
60. Flying Fists
61. The Office
62. Persuasive Fathers
63. Go To Sleep
64. Get Them Out
65. Ah Shite
66. The Sharp Knife of Awareness
67. Here Comes the Sun
68. I See Fire
69. Rebuilding
70. I See You
71. Hammers and Her
72. Lightning Crashes
73. Picnics and Piercings
74. Recovery
75. Birthday Boy
76. Camping and Carnage
77. Goodbye For Now
78. Summer Loving
79. The Boys in Green
80. Guess Who's Back
81. Festivals and Fangirls
82. A New School Year
Thank you
Bonus Scene
Glossary
Pronunciations
Playlist for Shannon
Playlist for Johnny
Scenes and Song Moment
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Chloe Walsh
Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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The author acknowledges all songs titles, song lyrics, film titles, film characters, trademarked statuses, brands, mentioned in this book are the property of, and belong to, their respective owners. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized/ associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Chloe Walsh is in no way affiliated with any of the brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.
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All rights reserved ©
Author's Note
Set in Cork, Ireland, and filled with fresh-faced Irish characters, the Boys of Tommen series is based around the lives of Johnny Kavanagh, Shannon Lynch, the lovable Gibsie, and their friends as they navigate their way through their prestigious private school, Tommen College, and prepare for adulthood. Full of humor and heartache, rugby and romance, the boys of Tommen are sure to capture your heart.
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Keeping 13 is the second installment of the Boys of Tommen. I hope you enjoy reading about these characters as much as I enjoyed writing them. Please note that there is a glossary at the back of this book for Irish slang definitions and pronunciations.
Thank you for reading. xox
The right of Chloe Walsh to be identified as the Author of the work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright and Related Rights Act 2000.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system – without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form or binding or cover than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Published by Chloe Walsh
Copyright 2014 by Chloe Walsh
All Rights Reserved. ©
Keeping 13,
Boys of Tommen #2,
First published, November 2018
All rights reserved. ©
Cover designed by Jay Aheer.
Edited by Aleesha Davis.
Proofread by: Brooke Bowen Hebert
Formatted by: JC Clarke
For Nikki Ashton, a treasured friend for life.
1
Him or Us
Shannon
"Make a choice, Mam," Joey said. "Him or us?"
Numb to the bone, I sat on the rickety chair at our kitchen table, with a tea-towel pressed to my cheek, and held my breath for two reasons.
First, my father was less than four feet away from me, and that particular piece of knowledge caused my body to switch into shutdown.
Second, it hurt to breathe.
Dropping the blood-soaked towel on the table, I twisted sideways and tried to rest my side against the back of the chair, only to groan in agony when a surge of pain coursed through my body.
My flesh felt like it had been doused in gasoline and set on fire.
Every inch of my body was burning, screaming out in protest every time I inhaled too deeply. I was in trouble, I realized. Something was seriously wrong with me and still, I remained exactly where I was, exactly where Joey had placed me, without an ounce of fight left inside of me.
This is bad.
This is really bad, Shannon.
The sounds of my little brothers' sobs and sniffles as they huddled behind Joey were almost too much to bear.
I couldn’t look at them, though.
If I did, I knew I would break.
Instead, I focused my attention on Jo
ey, taking strength from his bravery as he stared our parents down and demanded more.
As he tried to save us from a life that none of us were getting out of.
"Joey, if you just calm down for a moment –" Mam began to say, but my brother didn’t let her finish.
Wholly enraged, Joey erupted like a volcano right there in the middle of our rundown kitchen. "Don't you fucking dare try and talk your way out of this!" Pointing an accusatory finger at our mother, he snarled, "Just do the right thing for once in your fucking life and put him out."
I could hear the desperation in his voice, the last sparks of his faith in her fading out fast, as he implored her to hear him.
Mam just sat on the kitchen floor, her gaze flickering over each one of us, but never once moving to go to us.
No, she remained exactly where she was.
By his side.
I knew she was afraid of him, I understood what it felt like to be petrified of the man in our kitchen, but she was the grown up. She was supposed to be the adult, the mother, the protector, not the eighteen-year-old boy whose shoulders that role had fallen onto.
"Joey," she whispered, giving him a pleading look. "Can we just –"
"Him or us," Joey repeated the same question over and over, tone growing colder. "Him or us, Mam?"
Him or us.
Three words that should have held more meaning and importance than any other question I'd ever heard. Problem was, I knew in my heart that whatever answer was given, whatever lie she told herself, and us, the end result would be the same.
It was always the same.
I think in this moment my brothers realized that, too.
Joey certainly did.
He looked so disappointed with himself as he stood in front of our mother, waiting for an answer that wouldn’t change a thing because actions spoke louder than words and our mother was a living, breathing puppet with strings that our father held the reins to.
She couldn’t make a decision.
Not without his permission first.
I knew that even though my younger brothers were praying for a resolution, this was going to be an anti-climactic moment.
Nothing would change.
Nothing would be fixed.
The first aid kit would be brought out, the blood would be mopped up, the tears would be wiped away, the cover-up story would be invented, our father would disappear for a day or two, and then everything would go right back to the way it always was.
Promises made, promises broken – the Lynch family motto.
We were all shackled to this house like a great oak to its roots. There was no escaping this. Not until we all came of age and got out.
Too worn out to think about it, I slumped in the chair, taking in everything and taking in nothing at all. It was almost like a prison sentence with no parole.
Sagging forwards, I clutched my ribs and waited for it to be over. The adrenalin inside of me was dissipating at a rapid pace, replaced with more pain than I could consciously endure. The taste of blood in my mouth was thick and potent, the lack of air in my lungs was making me feel lightheaded and woozy. My fingertips danced between numb and tingling.
Everything hurt and I was done.
I was so completely done with the pain and the bullshit.
I didn’t want this life I had been born into.
I didn’t want this family.
I didn’t want this town or the people in it.
I didn’t want any of it.
"I want you to know something," Joey finally bit out when she didn’t answer him. His tone was ice cold as he spat out the words I knew were churning around inside of him like poison that needed to be exorcised from the pits of his fractured heart. I knew because I felt the same way. "I want you to know that I hate you more right now than I have ever hated him." His body was shaking, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "I want you to know that you are no longer my mother – not that I ever had one of those to begin with." He clenched his jaw, striving to keep the pain inside of him from expelling. His pride refused to allow him to show emotion in front of these people. "From this moment on, you are dead to me. All your shit? Handle it yourself. The next time he hits you? I won't be there to shield you. The next time he drinks all the money and you can't feed the kids or get the electricity switched back on? Find some other asshole to get cash from. The next time he throws you down the staircase or breaks your fucking arm in one of his whiskey tantrums? I'll turn a blind eye just like you did right here in this kitchen. From this day on, I won't be there to protect you from him just like you weren't there to protect us."
I cringed with every word that poured from his lips, feeling his pain in the deepest part of my soul as it mixed together with mine.
"Don’t talk to your mother like that," our father snarled, tone menacing, as he hauled himself to his feet, all six feet and two hundred pounds of him. "You ungrateful, little –"
"Don’t even think about speaking to me, you scummy piece of shit," Joey warned, glowering at Dad. "I might share your blood but that's as far as it goes. You and me are done, old man. You can burn in hell for all I care. In fact, I sincerely fucking hope you both do."
I felt a hand clamp gently down on my shoulder then, startling me, and causing me to groan in pain. "It's okay," Tadhg whispered, keeping his hand on my shoulder. "I'm here."
I closed my eyes as the tears trickled down my cheeks.
"You think you can talk to me like that?" Dad wiped his face with the back of his hand and, in doing so, smeared a trail of blood up his arm. "You need to settle the fuck down, boy –"
"You're calling me boy?" Joey threw his head back and laughed humorlessly. "Me? The one who's been raising your fucking kids for most of my life? The one who's been cleaning up both of your messes, taking care of both of your responsibilities, picking up the slack for two worthless, piece of shit parents?" Joey threw his hands up in outrage. "I might be only eighteen, but I'm more of a man than you'll ever be!"
"Don’t push your luck," Dad growled, red-eyed and sobering fast. "I'm warning ya –"
"Or fucking what?" Joey taunted with a careless shrug. "You'll knock me around? Hit me? Kick me? Get your belt out? Take a hurley to my legs? Bust a bottle over my head? Terrorize me?" He shook his head and sneered. "Guess what? I'm not a scared little boy anymore, old man. I'm not a defenseless child, I'm not a scared teenage girl, and I'm not your battered wife." Narrowing his green eyes, he added, "So, whatever you do to me, I can promise you that I'll return tenfold."
"Get out of my house," Dad hissed in a deathly quiet tone. "Now, boy."
"Teddy, stop!" Mam wailed, hurrying towards him. "You can't –"
"Shut the fuck up, woman!" Dad roared, turning his fury on our mother. "I'll break your face for ya! Do ya hear me?"
Flinching, Mam looked to Joey, expression helpless.
Joey remained rigid, clearly fighting an internal battle, but he didn’t go to her.
"You can't throw him out…" Mam's words drifted away as she stared up in pure, unadulterated fear at the man she had married. "Please." Tears dripped down her pale cheeks. "He's my son –"
"Oh, so now I'm your son?" Joey threw his head back and laughed. "Don't do me any favors."
"This is your fault, girl," Dad barked then, turning to glare at me. "Whoring around the fucking town, making trouble for this family! You're the problem in this –"
"Don’t even go there," Joey warned, voice rising. "Keep your goddamn eyes off her."
"It's the truth," Dad snarled, keeping his brown eyes locked on my face. "You're a waste of space and you always have been." With a cruel expression etched on his face, he added, "I told your mother about ya, but she wouldn’t hear it. I knew, though. Even when you were small, I knew what kind you were. A fucking runt." Glowering at me, he spat, "Don’t know where you came from."
I stared back at the man who'd spent my entire life terrorizing me. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, a formidable force to be reck
oned with, two strong arms attached to fists that caused more damage to my body than I could remember. But it was his words, his tongue, that had damaged me so much deeper.
"That's a lie, Teddy!" Mam, strangled out. "Shannon, baby, that's not –"
"We never wanted you," Dad continued to torment me with his words. "Did ya know that? Your mother left you for a week in the hospital, debating whether or not to give you up until the guilt got the better of her. But I never changed my mind. I couldn’t even stand the sight of you, let alone love you."
