by Chloe Walsh
When we reached his car, Gibsie spun around to face me, chest rising and falling quickly, car keys clenched in his white-knuckled fist. "Do you know what the statistics for relationships formed during childhood lasting are?"
Exhaling breathlessly, I shook my head. "What?"
"They're low, Johnny," he hissed. "Very fucking low. The odds of being with your childhood sweetheart twenty years from now are less than fifteen percent."
I gaped at him. "Again, what?"
"I'm not prepared to be another statistic," he choked out, sounding deadly serious. "Not with her. So, I'll do what I have to do, I'll bide my time, but I won't tie her down. Not until she's ready. Not until we've both lived a bit of life first." He dropped his head and released a pained groan. "But I won't watch that." He growled again. "Never a-fucking-gain."
"Well, shit." I frowned. "I don’t know whether that sounds sensible or insane?"
"It's probably both," he confirmed grimly.
Probably…
Eyeing him curiously, I said, "You actually believe that?" When he didn't respond, I continued, "That's what's wrong with you? Why you've been driving yourself crazy over that girl for as long as I've known you? You're afraid it won't last?" I tilted my head to one-side. "You're scared?"
"I'm not scared," he bit out. "I just know better."
"Because of your parents?" I asked warily, half expecting a slap in the jaw for the question. From what I gathered, his parents' divorce was a shitstorm of epic proportions that erupted right around the time of his Holy Communion. Gibs had spoken about it to me a grand total of one time in almost seven years of friendship. It was the unspoken law of the land in our circle to never talk about his parents' divorce – and never ever bring up his father and Bethany – but I was going there again today because he was clearly messed in the head over it. "Because that's what happened to them? You think that'll happen to you and Claire?"
"Fuck you," Gibsie huffed. "I'm not projecting. I'm protecting."
Oh, he was definitely doing both.
"Hey, I'm not judging you, lad," I replied, holding my hands up. "But I am going to tell you that I think your thought process is all kinds of messed up."
His jaw ticked, but he didn't respond.
"Fuck statistics," I urged. "If you want to be with her, then just be with her."
"Says the fella who ran away from a tiny, little girl for months," he shot back tersely. "And you have the gall to call me scared – pussy."
I let his comment fly over my head, concentrating on the issue at hand, because I had no defense. I did run away from a tiny, little girl for months – I ran like I was fearing for my bleeding life – but I wasn't running anymore. "So, you're telling me that you'll be fine with her going out with some gobshite like Jamie again?" I pushed him by asking. "You'll be perfectly okay with that?" I shrugged. "Because that's what it sounds like."
"You know I won't," he strangled out. "It nearly killed me last time."
I cringed in sympathy. "At least you got to box the head off him when it all went to shite."
"Yeah." A small smile tipped at his lips. "That was satisfying."
"I bet," I agreed, taking the opportunity to snatch his keys out of his hand so he couldn't bolt, and then shoving them into my pocket. "Now, are you going to let that little, skinny fucker get the better of you?"
"Fuck no," he growled, running a hand through his blond hair.
"Damn straight, you're not," I replied enthusiastically. "So, pull your finger out of your hole and go over there."
"You know what, Kav?" Needing no other encouragement, Gibs rolled up his sleeves. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."
"Not to fight," I reminded him, stepping in front of him when he tried to charge past me. "To charm."
He frowned, looking stumped. "Charm?"
"Charm," I confirmed, nodding. "Believe it or not, you have it in buckets, lad. Go back over there and charm her away from him."
"Charm," he repeated slowly, mulling over the word. His silver eyes flicked to mine and he nodded. "I can do that."
"You've got this," I replied, squeezing his shoulders. "Now go fuck that little weasel over."
Leaning against the bonnet of the car, I watched Gibsie stalk away, muttering the words, "Charm not harm," over and over to himself as he went.
Shaking my head, I hoisted my bag back onto my shoulder before setting off towards the school to find Shannon. I left my crutch in the backseat of Gibsie's car because I couldn't stand another day of walking around with the bleeding thing. Besides, I didn't need it anymore. I was hardly limping now, and with any luck, Coach Mulcahy would spot me all mobile and willing and cut me a deal, because I sure as hell needed someone to take pity on me.
My step faltered when I spotted Shannon leaning against the railing at the bottom of the P.E hall. She was wrapped up in her winter coat, with a wooly hat perched on her head and a scarf wrapped around her neck, as rain drizzled down on her. To be honest, I almost didn't recognize her through the layers of clothing. She noticed me, though, and raised a hand, smiling softly.
Instantly, I veered off course, striding towards her, with my heart slamming in my chest.
Something's wrong, my brain hissed when I drew closer and saw the dark circles under her eyes. Something bad.
Keep the head.
Don't bulldoze!
"Hi, Shannon," I said when I was close enough for her to hear me. Frowning, I added, "Were you waiting out here for me?"
"Hi, Johnny," she replied in a small voice. "Yeah, I… uh, was hoping to see you before class." She chewed on her lip, watching me warily before saying, "Can we talk for a sec?"
"Yeah," Stopping just short of her, I gave her my full attention. "Of course."
She smiled up at me and then her entire expression caved. Without another word, she let her schoolbag fall off her shoulders and walked straight into my arms.
"What's wrong?" My heart slammed violently against my ribcage as I wrapped my arms around her and held her to my chest. She was so small, so fucking tiny, that all I wanted to do was pick her up and take her home with me, where I could keep her safe, where no one could make her cry again. "What happened?" What did they do to you?
"They, uh, they found my Dad," she said, voice muffled, as she buried her face in my chest. "I found out last night."
"They did?" Thank you, Jesus. I tightened my arms around her. "Where was he?"
"Brickley House," she mumbled.
I frowned. "The rehab place?"
"Yeah." Nodding, she sniffled and glanced up at me, eyes wide and full of tears. "But, uh, he's not going to prison, Johnny."
What the actual fuck.
Breathe, Kav, breathe.
Don't lose the head.
"How do you know?" I managed to get out, squeezing her so tight I was fairly certain I was hurting her. I couldn't seem to loosen my hold, though, and she wasn't complaining as she held onto me just as tightly. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," she whispered. "He only has to complete a thirty-day treatment plan in Brickley House and then he's allowed out again, and his c-court date isn't until November. So, he'll be –" Clenching her eyes shut, she leaned her cheek against my chest and exhaled a broken sob. "God, Joey was right."
"Joey?"
She nodded stiffly, her whole body rigid. "He said this would happen. Joey told us that he wouldn't go to prison, but Darren seemed so convinced that I just –" she exhaled a gut-wrecking sob. "I let myself get my hopes up for a little while, thinking that maybe it really was over." Sniffling, she added, "But it's not over, and Joey left again last night – didn't come home until five in the morning. It's not over and it's all going bad again."
"Where'd Joey go?"
"Nowhere good," she choked out.
Shite.
"Why didn't you call me?" I croaked out, voice thick and gruff. "I would have come over."
"I did try," she whispered, "but your phone was off."
"I left it charging over
night," I admitted, feeling like the worse piece of shit on the planet. "Forgot to turn it on until this morning."
"It's okay."
No, it isn't. "It won't happen again," I told her. "Next time you call me, I'll answer."
"I'm so scared, Johnny," she squeezed out.
"Don’t be scared," I hurried to say – to fucking console. "I won't let anything happen to you." My voice was shaking, matching my entire body, as emotions racked through me. "I swear, I won't let him hurt you ever again."
She didn't acknowledge what I'd said.
Because she didn't believe me.
My heart cracked clean open in my chest.
"I don’t want to feel this way anymore," she told me, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. "I don't want this version of life – I don’t want to be this version of me."
"I love this version of you," I told her, unsure of what else there was to say. I couldn't tell her not to feel the way she did. All I could do was reassure her. "I love all your versions."
"I'm just so tired," she whispered, ignoring my words, drowning us both in her pain. "I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of not knowing. I'm tired of being fucked up in the head!"
"Jesus, Shan," I groaned, dropping my chin to rest on her head. "You are not fucked up in the head." I tightened my arms around her. "Do you hear me? This is not you. This is them. They're the fucked-up ones."
"I hate it," she choked out.
"Yeah." I exhaled shakily. "Me, too."
The way she held me, clung to me like I was her lifeline, well, that evoked emotions inside of me I wasn’t sure I was old enough to feel. And I didn’t mean sex. It was deeper. A chord of connection channeling deep inside of me and connecting to her. I hoped she never left me, because I was never going to get over this girl.
"Tell me what to do?" I begged, holding her tight and growing more frantic with every desperate shiver and sob that tore from her body. "Tell me what you need and I'll give it to you." I pressed a kiss to her hair, wanting nothing more than to take this away for her. "Just tell me what you need from me."
"I just want to go," she sniffled. "I want to leave and never come back."
"You won't do that, though." Panicking, I tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at me. "You won't leave me, right?"
"I'm not g-good for you," she hiccupped. "You're going to r-realize that."
"Bullshit." Cupping her face in my hands, I leaned closer, pressing my forehead to hers. "That's bullshit, Shannon," I repeated, tone gruff, keeping my eyes locked on hers. "I don't want you to say that again, okay?"
Sniffling, she nodded and tightened her hold on my waist. "Okay."
A fierce surge of protectiveness roared to life inside of me, and every instinct I had demanded I do just that; protect her. Do something. Do anything…
I cast a quick glance around us, debating my next move before throwing in the towel. "Come on," I said, taking her hand in mine. "Let's go." Remembering I still had Gibsie's keys in my pocket, I led her towards the silver Focus. Shannon walked wordlessly beside me, not asking questions. She was just following me. It was such a raw display of her blatant vulnerability and it terrified me. I could have been taking her anywhere, but when I unlocked the car, she just climbed into the passenger seat without a word or question.
Silently reeling, I closed her door and rounded the car before taking my perch in the driver's seat. Buckling up, I adjusted the seat back as far as it would go, and placed my feet on the pedals. Gingerly, I pushed down on the pedals, testing out the pressure in my legs.
Not bad.
Twisting the key in the ignition, I revved the engine, flicked on the wipers, and slowly backed out of the parking spot Gibsie had hastily rolled into this morning.
"Are we going to get arrested?" Shannon asked, breaking the silence, as we traveled down the long, wooded laneway. "For taking his car?"
"No, Shan, we won't get arrested," I chuckled, pulling to a stop at the main entrance. Flicking on my indicator, I leaned over the wheel and checked the road. "I'll shoot him a text later and let him know."
"Oh." Nodding, she clasped her hands together on her lap. "Okay."
Pulling onto the main road, I dropped my hand to the gearstick and shifted into third and then fourth before finally settling on fifth as the speedometer rose right along with my sense of freedom.
Feeling like I was in control for the first time in weeks, I put my foot down and pushed Gibsie's Focus as hard as it could go, all the while wishing we were in my Audi.
Unlike before, Shannon didn't complain about my driving. Instead, she rolled down the window and rested her cheek against the door, smiling softly when the wind blasted against her face.
We couldn't go back to Shannon's house because, aside from the fact that I was banned from stepping foot on the property, I was likely to cause serious physical harm to that brother of hers, and we couldn't go back to my place because if I rolled into the driveway behind the wheel of a car, my mother was likely to cause serious physical harm to me.
One of the best parts of living on the south coast of Ireland was that you were never far from water, so I detoured onto the coastal road, abandoning Ballylaggin altogether. It was half nine in the morning, and with the exception of the odd dog-walker, we should get some peace and quiet.
"Aren't you going to ask me where we're going?" I asked, casting a quick sideways glance her way before refocusing on the narrow, potholed road ahead of me.
"No," she replied softly.
"No?" I cocked a brow. "Why not?"
She opened her eyes and turned to look at me. "Because I trust you."
Well shite.
Reaching over, I took her right hand in mine and pulled it onto my lap.
Several hours later, Shannon and I were on what had to be our hundredth lap of the beach, and I was trying not to think about my stomach too much. I had eaten my entire supply of lunch for the day not long after parking up this morning – protein shakes and all – and I was still starving. I was putting my hunger down to the sea air, because I sure as hell wasn't burning up enough energy to be craving meat, unless trying to keep my head on straight with Shannon in close proximity constituted as strenuous activity. My heart certainly thought so, as it did the rounds in my chest, leaping around like a fucking jack-hammer. Or maybe it was the nerves making me hungry? Hell, I'd never been a nervous eater, but Jesus, this girl did strange things to my internal system.
Falling into step beside Shannon, I forced my legs to move, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and just moving. She didn’t make any comment on my pace or how fucking pathetic I looked as I shuffled awkwardly alongside her, freeing out my stiff muscles.
Every once and a while, I would test the waters by holding myself slightly back from her, or inconspicuously stepping a few feet out of touching distance, pretending to look at something that wasn't there, while I held my breath and waited to see what her next move would be. She skittishly closed the space every single time, moving closer and closer until she was sidled back up to my side. I did that at least four times just to make sure that this was where she wanted to be – with me – because it scared me sometimes, not knowing what was going on inside that head of hers.
Every now and then, she would stop for a couple of minutes to check a shell on the sand, or pretend to adjust her tights, but I knew that was bullshit. She was giving me pitstops. She was stopping so I could rest.
It was lashing rain down on us, but it didn’t seem to bother Shannon. She seemed perfectly content to be here with me.
She was talking again, too; answering every stupid question my brain could think up as we wandered, side by side, over the rocks and wet sand. The more random and pointless my questions were, the more Shannon relaxed, so I asked her everything; from her preference between Nike and Adidas, to her views on the big bang theory, until she was laughing and talking freely. I hashed up every fucked-up thought and memory I could to keep that smile on her face, neve
r once bringing her father into conversation. She didn't want to talk about her family, and to be honest, neither did I.
I wanted to give her a good day to make up for the bad ones, or at the very least, make her day a little better.
"Are you okay?" Shannon asked as she stood at the bottom of a rock, waiting on the sand for me to climb down to her. Her face was flushed from windburn, matching mine, and she was bouncing the rugby ball we'd found in the boot of Gibsie's car this morning between her hands.
"All good." Every inch of my body was burning up and I knew all the climbing was wreaking havoc on my injury, but I replied with a muffled, "Just give me a sec," as I resisted the urge to sit on my arse and shimmy down like a fucking girl.
"You can do it, Johnny," she encouraged, smiling brightly. "You've got this."
I really wasn’t sure if I had this or not, but I moved my legs all the same and prayed for the strength I needed to keep myself upright as I hobbled down the rocks at a snail's pace, feeling every ache and burn in my muscles, until I was standing in front of her with my feet planted firmly in the sand.
"Are you ready?" she asked, sounding a little breathless as a playful smile tipped at her lips.
"Yeah." I nodded, feeling the burn on my skin from having her eyes on me. "Go for it."
She held the ball out for me to take, but when I reached for it, she backed up a few feet.
A small smile curled at my lips and I tilted my head, studying her mischievous expression. "Oh, so it's going to be like that?"
Shannon laughed loudly – she actually fucking laughed – and nodded. "Come and get it, Mister Rugby."
Shaking my head, I trudged after her, my movements stiff and awkward, but she didn’t seem to notice, or she didn’t care. She was smiling encouragingly and nodding at me to follow her as she bounced a few feet out of my grasp every time I got close enough to snatch the ball.
She looked fucking adorable as she ran several yards up the beach with the rugby ball in her small hands. Her wooly hat and scarf swamped her face and that mountain of dark hair was blowing around her, with wet clumps sticking to her rosy cheeks. Rain was dripping from her coat, her school skirt was drenched through and clinging to her bare legs, and I swear, I had never seen anything so fucking beautiful.
