Keeping 13: Boys of Tommen #2

Dear Shannon,

It’s me – Johnny. I’m writing this so I can, once again, surprise and impress you with my mad letter writing skills. Ta-da? See, I told you not to worry about that knock I took on the pitch last weekend. It looked worse on the telly than it felt – and I still remember how to write, buy a stamp, and post a letter, so my brain’s still working. I hope this letter finds you well. I’m praying that you’re missing me just as much as I’m missing you. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.

I’m at the training camp in South Africa with the senior team. I’m rooming with Mick fucking Flanagan, baby – our CAPTAIN…which I feel stupid as fuck writing down in a letter, considering we spoke about this on the phone an hour ago.

I miss you.

Every bit of me misses every bit of you. I miss the feel of you. Sleeping alongside you. Talking to you. Driving around Ballylaggin with you in the passenger seat. Fuck, I’m pretty sure I’m starting to miss your brothers, too. That’s how bad this time apart is getting for me. It’s not just the sex I miss, either, Shan – though my dick misses you with a ferocity bordering on pain.

Are you well? You always tell me you’re fine on the phone, but I can hear sadness in your voice. I don’t say it because it’s the same for me. I’m learning that I don’t cope well when you’re not around, Shan. I spend my nights stalking that bleeding Bebo account that Claire set up for you, and I tell you this without a single ounce of shame. * By the way, I made my own account so accept me as your other half please* …oh, and feel free to private mail me some nudes. I could do with some new material. My memory never seems to do you justice.

There’s a beach here, about four miles from the team hotel, and every time I walk on the sand, I think of you. Of that day we spent at the beach back home.

You’re in my mind all the time, Shannon. My heart, too. You did something to me all those months ago. I think you broke me, because I’ve not been right since. When we’re apart like this, I feel unsteady, like I’m balancing a weight on my shoulders and my reward for not dropping it is seeing your face again.

So, yeah, there it is…

I’m going to tell you something in this letter, something I couldn’t say on the phone or in a text because I don’t think I could handle your immediate response…

I’m scared, Shannon. I feel like a fish out of water on this tour. The lads on the team? They’re all so much older than me – with years more experience. They’re real, grown up men, baby, and I feel like I’m a walking transplant, some young fucker running on luck and borrowed time.

I’ve never felt that way before. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, to be honest. Most of the time, I’m two minutes away from throwing in the towel and catching the next flight home to you. I’m still here, though, because I made you a promise that I would shine… or sparkle, or whatever the hell it was that you asked me to do. There’s talk of me actually starting this Saturday instead of coming off the bench, so maybe I’ll get the job done then.

It’s intense here, Shannon. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The U20’s tour was a walk in the park in comparison to senior level. I started every single game – no pressure. But this? Jesus, my best is only middling in this quality of a team and that is enough to make me want to quit. I’ve never felt like quitting before – it’s never crossed my mind. I’m working on trying to find my feet. Fighting for a jersey that’s always been mine is unsettling. Knowing that there’s half a dozen world class players ready to swoop in and take that from me if I put one foot out of place is a pressure I’m struggling to manage. I’m on edge all the time, Shannon… Maybe I’m just homesick, or maybe I’m overthinking things, or maybe I just left my head back in Cork with you?

On the plus side, I’ve gained a stone in muscle. I’m over 6’4 now, too. But enough of my bullshit; how’s your summer going? Is Gibsie okay? Has Joey been in touch yet? Is Sean saying any new words? What about Aoife? Any sign of her? How’s my Sook? Those boys better not be drawing on her. Do you have a tan? Are you smiling? Christ, I miss you…

I know you tell me everything is fine when we talk on the phone, but if you’re like me, and find it too hard to talk over a phone, then maybe you could write me back with another letter of your own?

You know what? I don’t think my English essay in the junior cert was as long as this letter. What does that say about me? Note: I hope you’re not worrying about those bleeding junior cert results. I know you kicked ass. Fuck, I love you. Did I write that down yet? Fuck it, if I haven’t then here it is again. I love you Shannon Lynch. All of you. Every part.

Anyways, I’m running out of room to write on both sides of this paper so I’ll take it as my cue to finish up. Oh, and could you ask my Ma to stop calling so much? I know she’s missing me, but it’s getting out of hand.

Yours always,

Johnny. x

(PS: My dick is still in my pants, and my love is still a crazy fucking amount.)

Carefully folding Johnny’s letter back into its envelope, I tucked it under my pillow to join the others before reaching for the box sitting on my bed with my name on it.

Holding the box in my hands, I stared down at his neat handwriting and sighed longingly. Our communication these past six weeks had consisted of a steady flow of texting and late-night phone calls, letters, and packages, but it wasn’t enough. Not by half. I could feel his anxiety dripping off the page and it hurt my heart. All I wanted to do was board a plane and go to him, but he would be home soon. A few days later than originally anticipated, but still, home was in sight.

‘What did you get this time?’ Ollie demanded, diving onto my bed, and almost giving me a heart attack in the process. ‘Aw, man, he sends you presents every day.’

‘Not every day, Ollie,’ I mumbled, blushing.

‘You’ve had two packages a week since he left,’ Ollie groaned. ‘It’s been six weeks. That makes twelve packages. I’ve had one.’

‘Because he’s my boyfriend,’ I defended, even though I was grinning in delight. ‘Now back up so I can open it.’

‘It’s because she lets him touch her boobs,’ Tadhg snickered from the doorway, where Bonnie, Sookie, and Cupcake were all nuzzling against his legs. ‘That’s why she gets all those presents, Ol.’

‘Tadhg!’ I choked out. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘It’s true,’ Tadhg laughed, scratching Cupcake’s ear. ‘Deny it.’

‘First, you let him tongue kiss you, and now you’re showing him your boobies?’ Ollie groaned, clutching his stomach. ‘I feel a little sick in my guts.’

‘We don’t do any of that,’ I lied through my teeth. ‘We only hold hands.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Tadhg snickered. ‘You keep telling yourself that, Shan.’

‘That’s why he sent those tickets for the music festival he’s taking her to when he comes home?’ Ollie demanded. ‘So he can see her boobies?’

‘Probably,’ Tadhg laughed.

Ignoring my brothers, I ripped open the box and grinned when I saw the green jersey with the number 13 etched on the back. Pulling it out, I held it to my chest, breathing in the smell of him. Shivering, I thought back to the conversation we’d had on the phone last week…

‘You didn’t!’

‘Yeah, Shan, I did.’Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

‘You lie.’

‘Sometimes, but never to you.’

‘Impossible.’ I shook my head, not trusting this crazy talk. ‘Those concert tickets have been sold out for months.’

‘You underestimate my powers of persuasion, baby,’ he purred down the line. ‘I figured we could share a tent again.’

‘Oh my god, you’re really serious, aren’t you?’ My eyes widened in excitement. ‘I can’t believe this,’ I practically screamed as I did a little happy dance. ‘You actually got us Oxegen tickets!’

‘Hundred percent, Shan,’ he replied. ‘It’s all I’m thinking about. No parents. No annoying fucking brothers. No training. No drama. Just you and me, a tent, and some decent music for an entire weekend.’

‘Who’s headlining this year?’

‘Green Day and The Foo Fighters,’ he replied.

‘God!’

‘I know.’

‘But, Johnny, I’ll never get in. It’s over 18’s.’

‘Again, you seem to be underestimating my powers of persuasion,’ he chuckled. ‘I’ll get you in, Shan. Don’t even worry your pretty head about it.’

I rolled my eyes and then screamed in excitement. ‘We’re really going?’

‘Really, really.’

‘Just us?

‘Just us,’ he confirmed before quickly backpedaling. ‘Well, no, not just us. Gibs is tagging along – and he’ll probably bring Claire.’

I grinned. ‘That’s kind of a given, though.’

‘Guess who else is playing?’ he said then.

‘Who?

‘Jimmy Eat World.’

My mouth fell open. ‘No.’ My song. My life anthem. I had the chance to hear it live? ‘Oh my god…’

‘That jersey is worth money,’ Ollie noted, dragging me from my thoughts. ‘Lots of it.’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ I warned, hurrying to slip it on over my head before my scheming brother decided to try and swindle me out of my boyfriend’s winning jersey.

On closer inspection of the jersey I was currently floating in, Ollie pulled a face. ‘Nah, it’s only the U20’s one,’ he told me, looking marginally disappointed. ‘Get today’s one, Shan. That’s the senior jersey – that’s the money jersey.’

‘You’re obsessed with money,’ I scolded. ‘It’s getting out of hand.’

‘Nuh-uh,’ he shot back. ‘John says I’m a shark.’

‘And that’s a good thing how?’

‘He says it’s going to be a good thing when I’m in court.’ Beaming, he added, ‘I’m going to be a barracker just like him.’

‘A barrister,’ Tadhg and I both corrected. ‘Not a barracker.’

‘That’s what I said,’ Ollie huffed. ‘I’m going to be a barracker.’

‘Glad to see all those speech therapy sessions John’s forking out for are paying off, Ollie,’ Tadhg shot back sarcastically. ‘You and Sean are something else.’

‘We are,’ Ollie agreed. ‘We’re the best boys.’

‘You’re a pain in my ass,’ Tadhg muttered, ‘that’s what you are.’

‘You’re just jealous,’ Ollie huffed. ‘Because you don’t get to go.’

‘Oh yeah, I’m so jealous that I know how to pronounce my words and speak clearly,’ Tadhg drawled.

‘Don’t worry,’ Ollie soothed. ‘You still get to go to play therapy with us.’

‘I don’t play at those sessions,’ Tadhg grumbled. ‘I paint.’

‘You should play,’ Ollie countered. ‘It’s so much fun.’

‘I’m going on thirteen,’ Tadhg huffed. ‘I don’t play anymore.’

‘That’s a shame,’ Ollie told him. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’

‘Oh, shut up, you little twerp,’ Tadhg grumbled.

‘They told you at counseling that you’re not supposed to use your angry words,’ Ollie reminded him. ‘When you get cross, you’re supposed to count to ten and breathe.’ He turned to me and smiled. ‘Deep breaths, isn’t that right, Shan?’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, holding back a laugh at Tadhg’s outraged expression. ‘Deep breaths, Tadhg.’

‘Oh, go away and talk about your feelings to someone who cares,’ he shot back. ‘That breathing technique doesn’t work when I’m mad.’

‘It is working,’ I promised, giving him an encouraging smile. He had turned inside out since moving in here. ‘Give yourself time.’

‘What time are your friends picking you up to go watch Johnny play?’ Ollie asked then.

I glanced at my phone and smiled. ‘Now.’

‘Now,’ Tadhg mimicked, batting his eyes. ‘God, you’re such a girl.’

‘I know,’ I countered with a laugh. ‘And you’re a brat.’ Tilting my head to one-side, I smirked. ‘I hope you treat the girls in your year nicer than you treat me when you start at Tommen next month.’

Tadhg snorted. ‘I’m not changing for anyone – and I’m not wearing a fucking blazer.’

‘Tadhg,’ I warned. ‘Don’t curse.’

‘Well, I’m not,’ he snickered. ‘I don’t care how cute Dellie says I look in one. I’m from the terrace, Shan, and I’m a hurler. I can’t be walking around like all those posh, rugby fu–’

‘Don’t curse!’ Ollie chimed in. ‘It’s bad manners.’

‘You know what? The blazer will suit you when you start in a couple of years, you little kiss ass,’ Tadhg taunted. ‘It’s bad manners.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t know where we got you, Oliver Twist.’

‘Fine by me,’ Ollie replied, unaffected. ‘I’m going to be wearing a lot of blazers when I’m a barracker anyway.’

‘A barrister.’

‘Just like John,’ Ollie confirmed proudly.

‘Well, I’m going to be a mechanic,’ Tadhg shot back. ‘Just like Joey.’

‘But Joey’s not a mechanic,’ Ollie replied, frowning. ‘Joey’s sick.’

‘Yeah,’ Tadhg huffed. ‘But once he’s all better and comes home, he’ll be a mechanic again.’

‘Is he coming home soon?’ Ollie asked.

‘No,’ Tadhg growled. ‘Because he’s not better yet.’

‘Oh.’ Ollie’s brows furrowed. ‘What’s wrong with him again?’

My heart squeezed tight in my chest. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Joey since the funeral back in May. He’d been in treatment for close to two months and was still refusing to let me visit him. ‘He’s just resting,’ I forced myself to say. ‘He’s really tired.’

‘Really?’ Ollie scrunched his nose up. ‘I thought it was because he was messing with the helium.’

‘The helium?’

‘Yeah.’ Ollie nodded innocently. ‘Freddie on my football team said that his mammy told Donal’s mammy that Joey’s in the hospital because he was messing around with the helium and the needles.’ He scrunched his nose up. ‘Why was Joey messing with needles and balloons? Wouldn’t they pop?’

Tadhg glared. ‘It’s not helium, you fool, it’s heroi–’

‘No, no, it is helium,’ I quickly interjected, giving Tadhg a pleading look. ‘Remember?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Tadhg agreed, cringing. ‘That’s right.’

‘And he’s really tired,’ I added, sagging in relief. ‘So, he’s having a big rest.’

‘Yes.’ Tadhg forced a smile. ‘From minding us.’

‘Yeah, but he doesn’t have to do that anymore,’ Ollie replied innocently. ‘Dellie does it now.’ He smiled brightly. ‘And John.’

‘You know what I miss?’ Tadhg said, thankfully changing the subject. ‘Aoife’s freebies from work.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Ollie agreed. ‘She used to bring home all the best stuff to us.’ Scratching the back of his head, he looked around and asked, ‘Where’d she go?’

‘Well, she’s Joey’s,’ Tadhg explained gruffly. ‘So, when he’s not around, she won’t be, either.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Ollie replied, happy to accept that explanation. ‘He should keep her, though. She’s so pretty.’

‘Yeah.’ Tadhg nodded in agreement. ‘She’s something else.’

‘Tadhg Lynch,’ I teased. ‘Are you crushing on Aoife?’

His cheeks turned bright pink. ‘No.’

‘Aww,’ I swooned. ‘You’re so cute.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ he shot back huffily.

‘And you’re even cuter now that your voice is breaking,’ I snickered. ‘My little Tadhg is growing up.’ Waggling my brows, I asked, ‘Should we have the talk?’

‘About Johnny sneaking in and out of your room every night of the week when he was here? Naked,’ he shot back, not missing a beat. ‘That talk? Sure. Do you want to have it here, or down in the kitchen with his mother?’

I swiftly snapped my mouth shut.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ he answered himself, giving me a knowing smirk.

‘Darren’s driving down for the weekend to help Dellie while John’s gone to the match,’ Ollie said then. ‘I hope he brings Alex.’

‘I hope Alex doesn’t bring Darren,’ Tadhg countered with a devilish grin.

‘Be nice,’ I chuckled. ‘He’s probably going to have his car full of presents for you guys.’

‘And rightly so,’ Tadhg agreed. ‘He owes us five years’ worth of them.’

‘True,’ Ollie agreed solemnly.

‘You two are terrible,’ I laughed.

‘Do you think he’s nervous for today?’ Tadhg asked then. ‘Johnny?’

‘No,’ Ollie answered for me. ‘He’s Johnny. He’s not scared of anything – and he’s got his dad with him.’ He smiled. ‘John.’

‘God, get over this fascination with John, will ya?’ Tadhg muttered. ‘You’re like a stalker.’

‘Like you and Dellie?’ Ollie countered. ‘You love her.’

‘Yeah, I do,’ Tadhg shot back, unblinking. ‘A lot.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ Ollie sighed happily. ‘She’s the best.’

‘That food,’ Tadhg added wistfully. ‘So much food.’

‘Shannon’s getting fat,’ Ollie tossed out. ‘She loves Dellie’s food, too.’

‘I’m a size 8, you thug,’ I choked out, offended. ‘I weigh 7 and a half stone. I’m not fat.’

‘You don’t call girls fat, Ol,’ Tadhg groaned. ‘Remember what Joey told us? They’re always skinny – even when they’re whales.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Ollie replied sheepishly. ‘But she’s up that whole stone, remember? Dellie was crying ’cause she was so happy about it? Remember? The doctors said she was bones and skin and had to get the stones up or she’d get sicker.’

‘Skin and bones,’ Tadhg corrected with a pained sigh. ‘And don’t worry about it, Shan. You’re still a rake.’

‘I was never a rake,’ I huffed, feeling self-conscious. ‘Stop talking about it.’

‘We’re all getting fat,’ Ollie offered with a smile. ‘It’s not just you, Shan.’ He smiled and patted his thin stomach that was slowly filling out. ‘See?’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Tadhg shot back, looking slightly stockier than his usual wafer-thin frame. ‘I’m getting muscle.’

A car horn beeped three times then, signaling my spin to Biddies, and I leapt off the bed. ‘Oh, guys, I’m sorry, but I have to go,’ I told my brothers as I bolted out of my room and ran for the stairs, my smile spreading with every step I took.

‘Enjoy, Shannon, love,’ Mrs. Kavanagh laughed when I tore through her kitchen like a bat out of hell, narrowly avoiding Sean, who was dressed as a chef and playing with his toy kitchen.

‘Thanks, Edel. Bye, Sean,’ I called back before running outside and throwing open the back door of Gibsie’s silver Ford Focus.

‘Where’s the fire?’ Gibsie snickered and then grunted loudly when Claire slapped him in the stomach from the passenger seat.

‘Filter, Gerard,’ she hissed. ‘Come on!’

‘Oh, shit,’ he muttered. ‘I didn’t even think –’

‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ I replied, hurrying to close my door and fasten my seatbelt. ‘Can we go now? It’s his first starting cap for the senior team and I don’t want to miss him.’

When I walked into Biddies bar, I was greeted by a sea of familiar faces and Irish jerseys. The huge television screen mounted to the wall already had the match on. Green and white jerseys filled the screen. It was all I could see. Fiji versus Ireland. God, this was serious. This was big. I knew Mr. Kavanagh was standing in the crowds somewhere in that stadium halfway around the world, cheering on his son, waiting to bring him home to us, and the thought made me smile.

As I looked around at the people in the room, an extension of Johnny’s family, I could see how much he was loved. These people were cheering him on. Trailing after Gibsie and Claire, I followed them to their usual table where I was greeted by Feely, Hughie, Katie, Lizzie, and the rest of his teammates from Tommen – minus Cormac and Ronan.

Anxiety was gnawing at my gut as I waved a shy hello to his friends and settled down on a chair at the table, knees bopping restlessly. Digging into the pocket of my denim shorts, I retrieved the fifty euro note Mrs. Kavanagh had given me and placed my order for a bottle of coke with Gibsie, who was going to the bar.

Swamped in Johnny’s unwashed jersey, I dutifully ignored the stares and hushed whispers being directed at me – partially because I was ‘the daughter of that man who killed himself and his wife’, but mostly because I was ‘young Kavanagh’s doll’ – and focused on the television screen.

When the two teams jogged out from the tunnel and onto the pitch, the crowd in the bar went crazy.

It was surreal.

He was there.

On the television screen.

Number 13.

My heart beat so hard I had to press my hand to my chest to steady myself. Claire reached over and squeezed my hand in support. ‘Just breathe,’ she encouraged, smiling knowingly at me, and I was grateful for the physical contact. I needed something to hold on to in this moment.

‘Get in there, Cap, you fucking legend!’ Gibsie cheered as he slapped three bottles of coke down on the table for Lizzie, Claire, and myself, before knocking back half of his pint, eyes glued to the television. Clearly bursting with pride, he shook his head, smiling to himself.

And then Ireland’s Call began to play, belting out from the surround sound, and a shiver ran down my spine.

Oh Jesus…

This was it.

This was it!

The camera zoomed in on the players, one by one, and when it landed on Johnny, the sheer volume of noise in the bar went clean off the Richter scale. Old men were banging their fists against the bar in triumph, cheering on their hometown hero. The man Johnny referred to as ‘Fat Paddy’ was literally dancing on top of a table with the owner of the bar. Feely was holding his head in his hands and staring at the screen in pure awe. Hughie was bawling his eyes out as he clapped for his friend. The rest of his teammates were going berserk. It was insane…

‘I’m going to be there one day,’ Johnny stated, tilting his head in the direction of the telly. ‘One of these days that’s going to be me, Shannon.’

‘I know,’ I replied, believing every word. Biting down on my lip, I turned to face him and said, ‘Don’t forget about me when you’re a rich and famous rugby player.’

Shaking my head to clear my memories, I focused on the match as it unfolded on the television screen, never once taking my eyes off 13 green all through the first half and into the second.

Three minutes before the final whistle and Ireland was down by 3 points. On the edge of my seat, I chewed on my fingernails, jerking and flinching every time a tackle was made. Ireland was rewarded a turnover on the Fijian five-meter line, and the crowds in the stands went crazy, belting out the chorus of The Fields of Athenry.

My heart sparked to life in my chest, adrenalin pumping through my veins, when my gaze honed in on Johnny lurking close to the scrum.

Making a break through the Fijian defense and their five-meter line, Johnny side-stepped their number 8, then ploughed forward, taking a spear from his rival jersey number just a second too late. Crashing over the line with his arm fully extended, ball in hand, he found touch on their try line. It was the final game of the tour and we had won. We won and he was coming home…

The bar erupted into a manic state of madness.

Gibsie threw himself across the table, knocking glasses everywhere, to hug the lads.

Meanwhile, I sprang from my seat, clapping so hard I thought my hands might break. With my eyes glued to the screen, I watched as the cameras zoomed in on Johnny’s grinning face, as the men I knew he idolized surrounded him in celebration.

A single tear rolled down my cheek as I watched the boy who had saved my life on countless occasions finally reap the rewards he so justly deserved.

Boy did good…

‘I need to pee,’ Claire announced, jumping to her feet. ‘Shan, will you come with me?’

I really didn’t want to pee, I wanted to stay exactly where I was, watching Johnny’s larger than life smile, but I reluctantly complied, allowing my best friend to drag me through the bar and into the ladies’ bathroom. ‘Claire, my arm,’ I strangled out, tugging my hand free before she yanked it clean out of its socket. ‘What’s the rush?’

‘Okay, don’t panic, but Bella’s in the bar,’ Claire blurted out, sounding a little out of breath. Yanking the bathroom door open, she looked out and then closed it again before turning back to face me. ‘I wanted to tell you before you saw her and panicked. She and Cormac and a group of their friends walked in just before Johnny scored his last try. They’re over by the bar.’ Blowing out a shaky breath, she rolled up the sleeves of her long-sleeved Irish jersey and narrowed her eyes. ‘It’s okay, though, because I’m totally down for kicking her ass. I delivered babies with Gerard this summer. Nothing scares me anymore.’ She looked me up and down then and smirked. ‘You look so sexy in his jersey and those tiny shorts. It’s going to drive Bella bonkers.’ She grinned devilishly. ‘By the way, you should totally wear this exact outfit when Johnny comes home on from the tour next week. He’ll pass out when he sees how big your boobs have grown.’ Frowning, she added, ‘The pill is working wonders for your body, Shan.’

‘Oh my god, Claire, stop and focus, will you?’ I strangled out, tucking my hair behind my ears as I tried not to panic. I hadn’t seen Bella in months – not since that day at school. Anxiety churned inside of me and I clasped my friend’s hand. ‘What do I do about Bella?’

‘Nothing. I just told you that I’m going to kick her ass,’ Claire replied simply. ‘I’ve got this, Shan.’

‘I’m going to kick her ass,’ Lizzie’s voice filled my ears as she stalked into the bathroom, looking furious. ‘That bitch has some nerve showing up here.’

‘Don’t kick anyone’s ass,’ I told my two best friends. ‘I’m serious, guys. I’m just going to leave.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Claire shot back. ‘You belong here. That’s your man on the telly.’

‘Yeah, but there’s no point in arguing with her,’ I replied. ‘I don’t want any more fights, guys. I’m tired of the drama. I just want a quiet life.’

‘Then you might want to remind Thor of that,’ Lizzie stated. ‘Because I think he missed the memo on fighting.’

‘Oh god,’ I groaned.

‘My Thor?’ Claire demanded.

‘I guess he’s taking that promise he made to Johnny about watching out for Shan seriously.’ Lizzie shrugged. ‘He’s out there goading the life out of the pair of them.’

‘Well, she better not provoke him.’ Throwing the bathroom door open, Claire stalked back to the bar just as Gibsie was getting up in Cormac’s personal space. He had a shit-eating grin on his face as he pointed to the television screen and laughed into his teammate’s face, clearly taunting him with Johnny’s success.

‘And that is how it’s done,’ I heard Gibsie laugh. ‘Come on, Ryan. Be a good sport and clap for your captain.’

‘Boys,’ Lizzie grumbled as we hurried after Claire. ‘Everything’s a pissing competition with them.’

‘Yep,’ I croaked out, feeling anxious.

‘Get out of my face, Gibs,’ Cormac warned.

Gibsie grinned like a maniac. ‘Make me.’

‘Gerard, don’t be picking fights,’ Claire said when she reached his side. ‘You’re on a warning, remember?’ Fisting the back of his jersey in her hand, she tugged him back from Cormac. ‘You heard what our mothers said. If you get in anymore trouble this summer, you’re not allowed to go to the festival next weekend.’ Releasing his jersey, she placed her hands on her hips and glared up at him. ‘And you’re taking me.’

‘Of course, I’m taking you, Claire-bear,’ he purred, giving her a devilish grin. ‘I’ll take you right now, if you want?’

‘I’m serious, buddy.’ Grabbing his big hand in hers, Claire spun on her heels and stalked towards the door, dragging Gibsie after her. ‘I’m not going to be a single mother just because you can’t stop chasing trouble and getting yourself thrown in the barracks. We have babies to raise, Gerard Gibson, and a concert to go to, so you’re going to do what you’re told. Now follow me!’

‘Oh fuck, I love it when you boss me around, babe,’ he groaned, hurrying after her like a puppy. ‘Talk dirty some more to me.’

‘Get out the door, Gerard,’ she ordered, holding the door wide open. ‘Now.’

‘Yes, boss.’

‘Those two have the weirdest friendship I’ve ever witnessed,’ Feely, who had come to stand beside us, stated when Claire and Gerard left the bar. ‘Like ever,’ he added with a small shake of his head. ‘It’s beyond strange.’

I wanted to respond to him, but my attention was riveted to the girl glaring at me. Surprisingly, I held my ground and eye contact, staring back at Bella Wilkinson with my head held high.

‘Let’s go for a game of pool in the lounge,’ Cormac said to the boy standing next to him. ‘I’m done with this shit.’ Turning to Bella, he asked, ‘Are you coming?’

‘No,’ she replied, not taking her eyes off me.

‘Bella, just leave it alone –’

‘What are you looking at, foster baby?’ she sneered, glaring at me.

‘You better take that back, bitch,’ Lizzie snarled, moving towards her.

‘It’s okay, Liz.’ Holding a hand up, I stopped my friend from pouncing, never once breaking eye contact with Bella. ‘Her words don’t hurt me.’

‘You need to pack it in and leave her alone,’ Cormac warned, glaring at his girlfriend. ‘I told you, Bel, I’m not going through this with you again. If you’re with me, you need to let this shit with her and Johnny go.’

‘I bet you’re happy with yourself,’ she hissed, inclining her chin towards the television screen, ignoring her boyfriend.

‘I’m happy for him,’ I corrected, not backing down.

‘You must give one hell of a blow job to get yourself and your band of bastard brothers shacked up in the Kavanagh house,’ Bella continued. ‘Are you sucking his daddy off, too, foster baby?’

‘Oh my god, you’re fucking obsessed with him!’ Cormac hissed. Shaking his head, he grabbed his jacket off the bar and stood up. ‘I’m right here, and you just… you don’t even see me! All you’re thinking about is him. I don’t know what else I can do –’

‘Of course, I see you,’ she snapped, tearing her gaze off me to look at her boyfriend. ‘I’m with you, aren’t I?’

‘Only because he’s with her,’ Cormac shot back, eyes laced with pain. ‘They were all right about you, weren’t they? You don’t love me.’

‘Now you’re just being a pussy,’ she tossed back. ‘Man up.’

‘I love you,’ he told her, red-faced. ‘I honestly do, but I can’t keep doing this.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Being second best,’ he growled. ‘I’m done with this shit, Bella. I’m done with being used. And I’m done with you!’

‘You’re not done with anything,’ she shot back laughing. ‘You’ll come crawling back.’

‘I’m not cruel, Bella, and what you’re doing to her is cruel,’ he told her, shaking. ‘What you’re doing to me is worse.’ Swallowing deeply, he added, ‘I’m not coming back this time… This time, we’re done.’

‘Then go,’ she dared him.

‘Oh, don’t worry.’ Shoving past Feely, Cormac stalked out of the bar. ‘I’m already gone.’

The lack of feeling she had for her boyfriend was clear because when Cormac walked out of the bar, Bella didn’t even flinch. She just continued to spew venom at me, throwing cruel comments and words like bullets intended to hurt me, but she couldn’t do that anymore. Because I was over her. I was honest to god over Bella Wilkinson and every other mean girl that had targeted me from the age of three to now. What I’d endured this past year; burying my parents, losing my home, almost losing my brother to drugs, almost losing my life, it had changed me. I was different now, stronger, and she couldn’t hurt me because I refused to hand that kind of power over to her or anyone else.

All the fear? I pushed it off my shoulders like a blanket, letting it fall away from my body, as I channeled the strength I knew was inside of me. There would always be another Bella, but just like my counselor told me, there wouldn’t be another me, and that was my strength, my special power. I would never be a rocket scientist or a world-class rugby player, but I was a survivor, and a damn good one at that. So with my head held high, I looked her straight in the eyes and gave her something she would never ask for and probably never deserve. ‘I forgive you for what you did to me that day.’ She could keep her anger and cling to her grudge, but that didn’t mean I had to. ‘And I hope you find some peace.’ With that, I turned around and walked back to my friends.

‘Whoa,’ Lizzie mused, sinking down on the booth opposite my chair. ‘I don’t know if you should be slapped for not giving that bitch what she deserved, or sainted for taking the high road.’

‘Sainted,’ Feely offered, sliding into the booth alongside her. ‘Definitely sainted.’

‘Guys,’ I mumbled, blushing. ‘It’s no big deal.’

‘You are the definition of kill them with kindness and bury them with a smile,’ Feely told me.

‘Screw the highroad,’ Lizzie tossed out. ‘I would have kicked her ass.’

‘What did you do, Shan?’ Hughie asked, tearing his lips away from Katie’s to look at us. ‘Were you brawling?’

‘Definitely not,’ I choked out, still trembling. ‘I’m not a fighter.’

‘Oh, I think you are,’ Feely replied. ‘Muhammad Ali right here, folks.’

‘She floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee,’ Katie chuckled. ‘A teeny-tiny bee.’

‘She KO’d Kav, didn’t she?’ Hughie laughed.

‘Oh, he’s on again – look!’ I squealed, watching as Johnny filled the screen to receive a medal. ‘They’re giving him Man of the Match.’

‘Shh, shh!’

‘Shut up, ye shower of whores, he’s talking!’

The volume was blasted to the maximum and the crowd in the bar went deathly quiet just as the reporter started speaking. ‘Jonathan, a massive congratulations is in order for a fantastic performance tonight. Your first start for the senior side and you scored two tries – and at only eighteen years old. Tonight must be a dream come true for you. Do you have any words?’

‘I’m very honored to have the opportunity to represent my country,’ Johnny replied, still slightly breathless. ‘I’m well aware of how lucky I am to be in this position and for that I’d like to thank my parents for their commitment and support. My trainers and coaches at The Academy, my school for giving me the foundations that got me to this stage, and providing the concessions I’ve needed from time to time, and the lads I train with every day of the week, especially my three closest friends and teammates from club level; Gibs, Feely, Hughie. I wouldn’t be here without their support, so tonight’s performance was for them.’

‘Well, to top off a wonderful series win, you’re also tonight’s man of the match.’ The presenter placed a medal over Johnny’s neck and shook his hand. ‘Congratulations, Jonathon.’

‘I actually wanted to mention one more person if that’s okay?’ he told her, still shaking her hand.

‘Of course.’

‘I’d like to thank my girlfriend for her unconditional love and support. It’s been a rollercoaster of a ride getting back from injury, and I can honestly say that I wouldn’t be here today without her fierce encouragement.’ Clutching his medal in his hand, he looked into the camera and gave it a little shake before saying, ‘Shannon, I love you, and I’ll be home soon.’

‘Aww!’ Katie squealed, jumping clean out of her seat. ‘Shan, you’re famous!’

‘Fuck that, I’m famous!’ Hughie cheered. ‘He said my name.’ Turning to Feely, he grinned. ‘Fucking Cap, huh? What a legend.’

‘I know,’ Feely laughed. ‘Gibs is going to lose his shit when he watches it back.’

‘Yeah, that boy is smooth,’ Lizzie begrudgingly sighed. ‘I’m made of ice, but I’m slightly melting here.’

‘Yeah.’ Nodding rapidly, I just stared at the screen, feeling my heart pound at a hundred miles an hour.

Shannon, I love you, and I’ll be home soon…

Shannon, I love you…

I’ll be home soon…

I didn’t realize I was clutching my chest until Lizzie grabbed my hand. ‘Breathe, Shannon,’ she chuckled. ‘He’s coming home.’

‘He’s coming home, Liz.’ Biting down on my lip, I grinned at her. ‘He’s really coming home!’