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“Jonathan!” Mr. Kavanagh barked. “Time togo.”

“You’ve done enough damage to this family already,” Mam snapped, trembling. “Whether you realize it or not. So don’t show your face around here again. You’re not welcome.”

“Mrs. Lynch,” Mr. Kavanagh interjected calmly, “I think we all need to calm down—”

“Keep your son away from my daughter,” Mam snapped. “She’s sixteen years old and I don’t want her messing around with him. She’s in here because of him! Because he wouldn’t stay away. Sokeep him away. Do you understand me? Keep that boyawayfrom my daughter!”

“What are youtalkingabout?” I choked out, feeling my heart gallop to the point where I felt dizzy. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“I’m coming back to see your daughter,” Johnny growled, eyes locked on my mother. “I played by your rules once before, and look where it got her. So you can rest assured that I won’t be doing that again.”

“Johnny, let’s go,” Mr. Kavanagh barked. “Now.”

“Jesus Christ, Da!”

“Now!”

Tearing his heated gaze off my mother, Johnny turned to look at me. Ignoring our parents, he closed the space between us, cupped the back of my head with one hand and leaned down. “I’ll be back,” he whispered before pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead. Straightening up, he looked down at me and winked. “I promise.”

Wide-eyed, I stared up at him and whispered, “I’ll be waiting.”

Johnny turned back to my mother and hissed, “I’m watching you.”

“Come on.” Mr. Kavanagh sighed wearily and placed a hand on the back of Johnny’s neck. “Get out of the room before I take your crutch and beat you with it.”

“Nice choice of words, Da,” Johnny groaned, allowing his father to lead him out of the room. “Real fucking tactful.”

“Oh Jesus,” Mr. Kavanagh muttered, turning in the doorway. His face was a deep shade of red as he said, “My sincerest apologies for the tasteless remark,” before closing the door behind them.

“What wasthat?” Mam asked, tone accusing, eyes narrowed on me.

“That was Johnny,” I replied, daring her back with my eyes. “What wasthat?” I asked her right back. “What the hell, Mam? He came to see me and you ran him off.”

“He had no business being here.”

“What?” I gaped at her. “He’s myfriend!”

“And is yourfriendplanning on making a habit of kissing you?” she demanded. “In front of your mother?”

God, I hope so.I shrugged noncommittally.

“He’s too old for you.”

“He’s seventeen,” I shot back defiantly. “I’m sixteen.”

“I don’t like this, Shannon,” she muttered, looking concerned. “Him. I don’t likehim. There’s something about him. He’s too… He’s too…”

“He’s too what, Mam?”

“Much for you,” she finished. “He’s too old and too experienced and definitely too arrogant.”

“Well, he’s not your choice,” I told her. “He’s mine.”

“Does he know?” Mam whispered, eyeing me with extreme wariness. “About our family?”

“He knows everything,” I confirmed quietly, feeling a tsunami of misplaced guilt rise up in me. Logic told me I didn’t need to feel bad, but my heart was confused. My heart called me a traitor. “I had to tell him,” I choked out, explaining myself. “He saw the marks.”

“Jesus, Shannon,” Mam choked out. “No.” She shook her head. “No, no, no, this isn’t right.”

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