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“I don’t want to get a girlfriend,” I bit out. “I am too fucking busy for a girlfriend, Gibsie. You know this.”
“Even little Shannon?” he tossed out with a grin.
My heart leaped in my chest at the sound of her name.
Christ…
“What did I tell you about her?” I snapped, tossing the remainder of my sandwich on my plate, appetite gone. “What in the bleeding hell have I been saying to you for the last two months?”
“It’s not what you’re saying,” he replied with a snicker. “It’s how you’re acting.”
“I am not going there,” I growled. “I’ve said it a hundred fucking times.”
“And you can say it a hundred more,” Gibsie shot back with a laugh. “And I still won’t believe you.”
Jesus Christ.
“You like the girl,” he continued to taunt. “Maybe you even loooooooovv—”
“If I agree to go to Biddies, will you stop talking about it?” I asked, desperate to stop him before he went into full-fledged Gibsie mode and drove me insane. “Will you let this drop?”
My best friend nodded eagerly. “Absolutely.”
“Fine.” I sighed in defeat and moved for the door. “I’ll grab a shower.”
“Good man,” Gibsie called after me. “I’ll phone for a taxi for us.”
I swung back to face him. “I can drive us—”
“No, you can’t,” Gibsie interrupted, holding his phone to his ear. “We’re going on the lash. Both of us.”
Shoulders sagging, I turned and made my way to my room.
Fucking Gibsie.
30We’ll Manage
SHANNON
“How’s the face, Shan?” Joey asked when I walked into kitchen a little after midnight.
He and Aoife were sitting at the table with coffee mugs in front of them and wore matching looks of concern.
“Jesus,” he muttered, flinching at the sight of me.
“I’m okay, Joe.” I forced a smile to comfort him. “It looks worse than it feels.”
That was a lie.
My face was killing me. Every inch of my body was in agony. I was black and blue from head to toe.
Thankfully, the only visible evidence of last night was a small shiner on my cheekbone.
It was the rest of my body that had taken the brunt of his fury.
My only saving grace was it was cold out and I could hide my bruises with baggy sweatpants and long-sleeved shirts.
My lie didn’t seem to comfort my brother, though. He just stared back at me, looking broken and defeated.
