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“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 to 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 U20s 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 yourfeelingsto 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.”

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