Page 295 of Keeping 13

“Oh my god!” Clutching his stomach, Gibsie fell off the stool from laughing. “You did not teach the baby to bark!”

“Onny oof,” Sean barked. “Onny shite oof.”

“Johnny!” Mam gasped. “You did not teach the baby to curse.”

“Ah, shite,” I groaned.

“Ah, shite, Onny,” Sean mimicked, rubbing my head. “Ah, shite.”

“And that’s enough playtime with Johnny.” Dad chuckled, sweeping Sean up in his arms once more. “Come on, little man.” Grabbing a sippy cup of milk off the countertop, Dad strolled back down the hallway. “Let’s have a story before bed.”

“Don’t read himthatbook,” I called after him.

“Oh, don’t worry, love,” Mam coaxed. “I burned that book years ago for you.”

“You’re not still freaked out over that book, are you?” Gibsie snickered. “It’s beenyears.”

“I’m okay,” I growled. “But he’s only small.”

“Johnny, lad, no one else thinks the way you do.” He chuckled. “We don’t all overanalyze everything like you do. It’s a storybook about a chicken.”

“It was legitimately terrifying,” I defended. “I couldn’t sleep for weeks.”

“You couldn’t sleep because you couldn’t turn that brain of yours off,” he shot back. “You’re still the exact same now.”

“He’s right,” Mam chimed in. “You’re a bit of a worrier, love.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, deciding not to bother arguing when they were spot-on. “Fair point.”

“Well, I’m thinking I should hit the road and let you get some sleep before the big day,” Gibsie said, giving me a meaningful look. “Do I need to come and pick you up in the morning and drag your ass over there, or are you going to be a big boy and drive yourself?”

“I’ll drive,” I told him. “Thanks anyway, lad.”

“Oh, sweet Jesus, the trials,” Mam gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. “I completely forgot.”

“It’s alright, Mammy K,” Gibsie said. “I’ve got your boy’s back.” He gave me a scathing look. “Be up or I’m coming for you.”

“I’ll be there,” I replied, voice thick and gruff. “I’ll see this through.”

“Damn straight you will,” Gibsie replied, nodding. “Call me as soon as you’re done.” Turning to my mother, he pressed a kiss to her cheek before swiping a sandwich off the tray she was holding and sauntering out the back door. “Tootles.”

“Johnny,” Mam whispered when the back door closed behind him. “I am so sorry, love.” Hurrying over to me, she pulled out the stool Gibsie had vacated and sat down next to me. “I don’t know how I forgot about the coaches coming down tomorrow.”

“Ma, it’s okay,” I muttered. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal,” she corrected, placing her hand on my arm. “You’ve worked so hard to come back from injury. Your whole life… Oh, Johnny, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” I reassured her. “And a lot of kids to be minding. It’s just another trial. Don’t even worry about it.”

“But you’re my son,” she choked out. “I should have been supporting you and helping you prepare for this.”

“Ma, we have six people staying in this house that just lost their home and both of their parents,” I told her. “I’m not going to begrudge loaning them mine.”

“Oh, pet.” Mam smiled sadly. “I just want you to know that you’re still my number one.”

“I know.” I smirked. “And you should know that I don’t need that kind of reassurance.” I patted her hand. “I know who I am, and I know who I belong to.” I shrugged. “I’m not worried, Ma, so don’t worry about me.”

“Do you want me to come with you in the morning?” she offered, squeezing my hand. “I can wait in the car or sit in the stands—”

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