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“For fuck’s sake, Ma!”
“What have I told you about your language?” Mrs. Kavanagh snapped. “Cool your jets, Johnny.”
“Christ.” Johnny sagged against the headrest and groaned. “I already got it in the neck from Twomey, Lane, Coach, and Shannon’s ma. Please not you as well.”
“Well?” Mrs. Kavanagh asked, casting a quick glance at her son before refocusing on the road. “Did you not think I should have been told?”
“I’m sorry,” I squeezed out, clasping my hands together anxiously. “Your mam thought I was your…that we were…that you got me…with your pregnant balls… Ugh—” Clearing my throat, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Johnny turned back to face me and smirked. “My pregnant balls?”
“No, my pregnant and your balls,” I spluttered and then cringed at my words. “Never mind.”
Ignoring my rambling, Johnny turned to his mother and said, “It was an accident. She was on the pitch during training. I didn’t even see her until the ball cracked her in the head.”
“Yes, I know that now. Shannon explained,” Mrs. Kavanagh replied. “I hope you apologized to her, Johnny.”
“Of course, I fucking apologized to her,” Johnny huffed, shoulders rigid.
From my perch in the center of the back seat, I watched as he smoothed his hand over his thigh—his injured thigh.
Shaking his head, Johnny exhaled a frustrated breath and muttered, “I’ve been apologizing ever since.”
“Still, I would have liked to have been told about this when it happened.”
“Well, now you know,” he bit out. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and I don’t go around clocking girls over the head for shits and giggles.”
“Don’t get so defensive, Johnny,” she replied, tone softening. “No one’s accusing you of doing it on purpose, love.”
“Yeah fucking right,” he muttered. “Just drop it, Ma.”
He sounded agitated—no, it was more than that. He sounded like he was in pain. Which he more than likely was.
My memories of our conversation in his car floated into my mind in glorious colored detail.
It’s not healing fast enough.
It’s a fucking mess.
My leg’s not the problem.
Just forget I told you any of that.
Concern sparked to life inside of me, and I wondered if his mother knew how much pain he was in.
I doubted it.
Based on my limited interaction with the woman, she didn’t strike me as the type of person who would knowingly allow her son to put himself in harm’s way.
“You’re going the wrong way,” Johnny stated when Mrs. Kavanagh took a left turn at the intersection instead of heading straight onto the motorway. “Shannon lives in Ballylaggin town—the far side.”
“Oh, I know, love,” Mrs. Kavanagh chirped. “I just thought it might be a nice idea to have Shannon around for tea.”
“Tea?” I croaked out.
Johnny sighed heavily. “Ma.”
“Do you drink tea, Shannon, love?” Mrs. Kavanagh asked.
