Page 322 of Keeping 13

“Your mam helped me,” I told him. “When I told her what I wanted to make for you, she took me up to the attic where she has at least thirty boxes of newspapers and trophies and god knows what else.”

“She does?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the book.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “It’s like a shrine to you in that attic. I’ve never seen so much memorabilia belonging to one person in my life.” Shrugging, I added, “You’re kind of famous, Johnny Kavanagh.”

A small smile ghosted his lips and he tapped his finger against the book. “I love this.”

I sagged in relief. “You do?”

Nodding, he closed the book and looked at me. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I replied, smiling back at him.

“I mean it, Shan.” His tone was serious, his eyes blazing with heat. “I really do mean it.”

“I believe you,” I whispered, heart fluttering with excitement.

“If I could take you with me, I would,” he choked out, setting the book down and pulling me onto his lap once more. “I don’t want to leave you.”

My heart sank. “You have to go, Johnny.”

He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck. “I’m so sad.”

“Don’t be sad,” I begged. “Behappy.”

“I am,” he croaked out. “But I’m just… I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. I feel like I just got you, and now I have to leave—” His words broke off and he groaned into my neck. “I’m not ready to give it all up.”

“Give what up?” I whispered, trailing my fingers through his hair. “Hmm?”

“My youth,” he admitted quietly.

“Johnny, you’re still young,” I coaxed.

“I’m not talking about my age,” he mumbled. “I’m talking about you—and those fuckers out there,” he added, pointing a finger at the tent opening. “And your annoying little brothers.” He shook his head and sighed heavily. “I’m not ready to give it all up, Shan.”

“You can do this.” I forced the words out of my mouth when all I wanted to do was scream “Don’t go”instead. But I wouldn’t be selfish with him. He needed to do this, and I needed to support him. “And it’s only for the summer.”

He stiffened for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I know.”

“Do you want the rest of your present?” I teased, desperate to cheer him up before we both ended up miserable. “Hmm?”

“There’s more?”

Smirking, I pushed him onto his back and whipped his towel away. “If you want more.”

“Oh fuck,” he growled, nodding in appreciation as his hands moved to my hips. “I definitely want more.”

* * *

Later that night, everyone seemed to have calmed down and were genuinely enjoying themselves. The tents had been pitched, the cake had been eaten, the arguments had been put to bed, the apologies had been accepted, and the sullen faces had been replaced with loose, drunken smiles—courtesy of the half-dozen slabs of beer and other alcoholic concoctions on offer.

Sitting around a campfire at the edge of the river, with Johnny’s arms wrapped around me, I listened intently to the banter and jokes that were going around. Gibsie and Lizzie had formed a silent truce of sorts and were sitting on either side of Feely, acting like nothing had happened between them earlier. I wasn’t sure what to make of it if I was being honest, but I had to admit that pretending to get along with one another was a lot better than outright war. Claire was sitting on Gibsie’s other side, and Hughie and Katie had just returned from a twenty-minutetoilet breakbehind a nearby tree, looking all flushed and barely put together.

As I stared into the amber flames, I felt a sudden pang of guilt for feeling so happy. My mother’s face flashed into my mind, followed swiftly by the image of Joey’s haunted eyes the last time I saw him. The emotions that swept through me were so overwhelming that it caused me to flinch and drop the bottle of beer I had been sipping.

“And we have a lightweight,” Gibsie cheered from across the fire, clearly back to his happy-go-lucky antics. “Little Shannon,” he tutted, grinning. “Spilling your drink on the fifth bottle?” He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “What are we going to do with you, huh?”

Recovering before my grief could get the better of me, I blinked back the sting of tears in my eyes and slapped on a bright smile. “Cut me some slack,” I joked, forcing humor into my voice as I set my bottle upright on the ground. “It’s my first time drinking.”

---