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I had the car door open and was out of my seat before he had a chance to respond.
Slamming my door shut, I opened the back door and reached into the piles of rubbish and dirty clothes for my bag.
“Shannon, wait, don’t go—”
“Bye, Johnny,” I whispered before closing the door and crossing onto the footpath.
I didn’t turn back when he rolled his window down and called my name three times.
And I didn’t turn around when he pulled up at the footpath, choosing to slip through the alleyway instead, with my head down and the sting of bitter regret weighing heavily on my shoulders.
18Overreactions and Fading Dreams
JOHNNY
I was furious the entire drive home, hardly able to concentrate on the road with my temper. By the time I pulled into the driveway at home, my entire body was thrumming with frustration.
She walked away from me.
I called her and she walked the fuck away.
I wasn’t used to being dismissed or ignored, and that wasn’t me being a cocky shit. It was the truth. Touching her was a mistake. Doing it again was one I couldn’t afford to make. She was fifteen years old.
The fuck was wrong with me?
It was bad enough when all we’d had were a couple of conversations, but now that I’d spent the bones of two hours in a car with her, I was reeling. When she asked her questions, they were deeper than the usual shite I was asked. That confused me. I couldn’t read her. I couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.
She lived in one of the council estates in town, the big one that was plagued by drug raids and hounded by the Gardaí, and that was a troubling thought. How the fuck did someone like her come from somewhere like that?
When I pulled into my usual spot at the back of my house, my mood was dark and my temper was out of control. Killing the engine, I sat there for several minutes, staring out my windscreen, striving to get a handle on the god-awful feeling of despair churning inside of me. Dropping my head in my hands, I grabbed clumps of my hair and just tugged.
I had learned a valuable lesson tonight though, and that was to never ask a girl what she was thinking if you weren’t prepared to take a huge fucking knock to the ego.
“I think you’re in denial about your healing process and I know you’re hurt… I think you’re playing a dangerous game with your body… And I think if your doctors knew how much pain you are actually in, there’s no way they would have signed off and released you to play.”
Her words were haunting me. Probably because she made a valid point. I fucking hated that she was right about my body. I was stubborn like that, which was why I got so defensive when she called me out on my bullshit.
Still, though, Shannon didn’t know me. She had no clue of the pressure I was under. No one understood. And certainly not her.
And I absolutely did not walk with a fucking limp!
Jesus Christ!
Annoyed with myself for giving the girl any more airtime in my thoughts, I quickly pushed her away and concentrated very hard on thinking about nothing at all.
When I had calmed down enough, I climbed out of my car and slammed the door shut, only to immediately regret it when yodeling noises erupted. The automatic sensor lights in the yard were on, making it easy to see the two golden retrievers bounding down the lawn toward me, followed by a much slower, much older black Labrador.
“Sorry, girls,” I called out, temper dissipating at the sight of them. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Shoving my keys in my pocket, I scratched Bonnie and Cupcake, my mother’s dogs, on their heads before making a beeline for the older Lab.
Sookie was almost fifteen, and the hair around her eyes, nose, and chin had turned white. She was stiff and hobbled more these days, but she was still a puppy to me and would forever be the best birthday present a three-year-old boy ever received. She waddled into my arms and then dropped down on my foot, wagging her tail so hard her back was shaking.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Taking a knee, I wrapped my arms around my dog. “How’s my best girl?”
She rewarded me with slobbering kisses to my face and an arthritic-plagued attempt to give me the paw. Cradling her face in my hands, I scratched her ears and pressed my nose to hers. “I missed you… Yes, I did.”
God, I loved this dog. She was my baby. I didn’t care what the lads said or how badly they slagged me off over her name. Sookie was my girl, loyal to a fault, and I loved the shite out of her. It was a good thing she couldn’t talk, because the old girl knew more about my shit than anyone else on this planet. Those big brown doe eyes always got to me, and the little white beard around her mouth always pulled at my heartstrings.
