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“Hey, Johnny?” Ollie asked, strolling into the living room later that evening. “Are you going to marry my sister?”
“Wait for it,” Gibsie snickered, nudging my shoulder as he tapped away on his PlayStation controller in front of a giant TV in the living room. “He’s going to start getting stroke symptoms.”
Smirking, I paused our game with my controller and turned my attention to the terrified-looking rugby player. “Good question, Ols.”
Right on cue, Kav’s breathing increased, and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple.
“Ollie!” Shannon squealed, turning the color of her crimson sundress. “You can’t ask him that.”
“But he bought balloons to play with you,” Ollie offered innocently. “And Joe says you only use those special balloons with girls when you want to marry them.”
“I did say that,” I laughed, remembering back to a time when that awkward fucking conversation came up. In my defense, Ollie was eight at the time, and he’d caught me off guard.
“A lot he’d know about using balloons,” Johnny muttered, looking rattled as he pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Bareback bollocky-Bill.”
“Balloons?” Shannon asked, tone laced with confusion as she snuggled up on Kav’s lap. “What are you—”
“Yeah, baby.” He gave her a meaningful look that said go with it. “Balloons.”
“Oh.” Shannon’s eyes widened as awareness dawned on her. “Balloons.”
“Balloons.” Gibsie choked out a laugh. “Ah, lad. I love this kid.”
“Hold on.” Frowning, Ollie turned to look at me. “Do you and Aoife play with balloons together?”
“Not nearly enough,” Gibsie snickered.
“Ha-fucking-ha, lad.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re hilarious.”
Ollie frowned in confusion. “Huh?”
“Joey burst his balloon,” Johnny explained to number five.
“And now he can’t play any more games with Aoife because of his dodgy balloons.” Gibsie laughed, thoroughly fucking enjoying himself at my expense.
“Oh no,” Ollie said with a sad sigh. “Was it the needles? Does she not want to play with you anymore now?”
“Huh?”
“Did you burst her balloon with your needles?” His brown eyes were full of compassion. “Did you make her sad?”
Everyone fell quiet, the laughing stopped, and I felt another piece of me die inside.
“Yeah, Ols,” I forced the words out. “I made her sad with my needles.”
“Huh.” Seeming mollified with that answer, Ollie skipped out of the living room, leaving behind a bad taste in my mouth.
“Well, that sure as hell went south fast,” Gibsie declared, tossing his controller down and climbing to his feet. “Now, I feel like comfort eating.”
“Stay out of the biscuit tin, Gibs,” Johnny argued from his perch on the couch with my sister. “You’re in training, lad, remember?”
“Yeah, well, you tell my emotions that, Johnny, because I’m feeling raw, lad. Raw, I tell you,” he replied, swiping his car keys off the coffee table. “I’m going on a food run into town.”
“There’s plenty to eat in the kitchen.”
“Grease, Cap,” he snapped, moving for the door. “I need grease, lad. Not another boiled chicken fucking fillet.”
