Page 188 of Keeping 13

Help Her

Johnny

I couldn’t sleep. My brain was on high alert and every muscle in my body was locked tight with tension. Every time I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, I was bombarded with mental images of Shannon lying in that hospital bed, beaten and bloodied.

Her father was out.

He was walking around a free man.

In fucking Ballylaggin of all places.

Furious, I turned onto my side and tried to empty my mind, but it didn’t happen for me. Feeling at a loss, I threw the covers off my body, cringing when Sookie groaned in her sleep. “Sorry, baby,” I whispered, padding across the room in the darkness.

Slipping out of my room, I flicked on the light in the landing and made the trek to the opposite end of the house. It had to have been at least nine years since I last slipped inside my parents’ bedroom in the middle of the night, but that’s where I found myself—at one in the bleeding morning.

“Da?” I whispered, nudging his shoulder as I towered over him, feeling like a creep. “Da?”

“Johnny?” His voice was raspy and thick from sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you,” I whispered, eyeing my mother’s sleeping form and praying that she stayed asleep. “It’s important.”

“Go back to sleep, son,” he grumbled, rolling back onto his side and tightening his hold on my mother. “The sky’s not falling, I promise.”

I rolled my eyes at that last part. Fucking Chicken Licken. “Da, I really need to talk to you.”

Raising himself up on his elbow, he peered up at me with a sleepy expression. “Really?”

I nodded. “Really.”

Yawning loudly, he threw the covers off himself and stood up. “Alright, son, put the kettle on.”

“I will,” I hissed, covering my eyes, “when you put some clothes on.”

* * *

Three hours and two pots of coffee later, we were still in the kitchen. My father was hunched over the counter in his jocks, nursing a cup of coffee, while I paced the floor like someone jacked up on coke. “There has to be another way around it,” I hissed, scratching my bare stomach. “He can’t just get to walk around scot-free after everything he put them through.”

“Family law is complicated, son,” Dad replied. “Every case is different.”

“That’s not good enough—” Swiping the coffee pot off the counter, I poured myself another cup and downed it in three gulps. “Goddammit!”

“I’m cutting you off.” Dad yawned, reaching over and taking the pot away from me. “Or else I’m never getting to bed.”

“You should have seen her tonight,” I continued, pacing and ranting. “Shannon’s face when her brother told her that their father was out.” I shook my head. “She was fucking terrified, Da.”

“Johnny.” Dad sighed. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“But there’s something you can do, right?” I shot back, feeling all jittery and energetic. “Can’t you take their case?”

“It doesn’t work that way,” he replied with another yawn.

“Why?” I demanded. “Why doesn’t it work that way?”

Dad exhaled wearily. “I’ve already explained this to you a dozen times. The DPP made the decision to take it to trial. They have been appointed a solicitor through legal aid, and besides, Mrs. Lynch made it very clear that my services weren’t needed—or welcome.”

“Then she’s a fool,” I snarled, upping my pacing. “You’re the best.”

“I am,” he agreed with a sleepy nod. “But her emotions are clouding her judgment.”

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