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Sniffling, Mam nodded. “Text Joey, love.”

Panicked, I pulled my phone out and sent a text to the one person I hoped wouldn’t have me arrested.

J: Yeah, so, strange thing happened today…

Joey the hurler: Why are you texting me?

J: Because I took your brothers and they’re at my house.

Joey the hurler: Why?

J: I don’t know.

Joey the hurler: Do you plan on giving them back?

J: I guess.

Joey the hurler: You’re really fucked up, Kavanagh.

J: I know.

Joey the hurler: I’m on my way.

“Done,” I muttered, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “He’s on the way.”

“Thank you,” Dad said with a sigh.

“Don’t thank me, Da,” I muttered. “Not for doing the wrong thing.”

Mam glanced between me and my father before sighing heavily. “You did the right thing, Johnny.” Shoulders sagging, she walked over to where I was standing and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Everything will be okay.” Pressing a kiss to my shoulder, she added, “I’ll put the kettle on,” before walking out of the kitchen.

“What’s going on, Da?” I demanded, feeling out of the loop. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I don’t tell you a lot of things,” my father replied evenly. “Parent-child privilege.”

“You know what I mean, Da,” I snapped. “If you know something to do with Shannon and you’re not telling me, I’m going to lose it.”

“Nothing about Shannon,” Dad told me.

“Then what’s going on with you and Mam? What did all of that mean?”

My father sighed. “Johnny, you really don’t need to know.”

“Iwantto know,” I countered hotly.

“But you don’tneedto know,” he shot back with an air of finality in his tone. “Because what your mother and I talk about is private.”

“Are you fighting?” I asked, at a complete fucking loss. “Over the Lynchs?”

“If we are, then that is also private,” Dad shot back, not missing a beat. “Respect that.”

Jaw clenching, I swallowed down a snarky response and nodded stiffly.

“Good man,” he said, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. “Now, I need to go and make a few calls and see if I can keep you out of prison—at least until you turn eighteen.” He turned and walked for the door only to halt and spin back around. “I forgot to ask you how training went?”

“Fine,” I grumbled.

“And Coach Dennehy?” he pushed. “Any word yet?”

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