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“It’s okay,” I replied, clasping my hands together tightly. “Your mam is really nice.”
“She’s something alright,” Johnny muttered under his breath as he stared over his shoulder toward the house. “What about your ma?”
My brows shot up. “What about her?”
“Do you need to be at home?” he asked, cringing a little in obvious discomfort. “Helping her out or anything?”
“She’s at work,” I replied quietly.
“Shit, yeah, you said that already,” he muttered, running a hand through his drenched hair. “Are you okay?”
I nodded.
“And you already said that, too,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “Shite, you told me not to talk about it.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“It’s done,” he promised. “I won’t bring it up again.”
I smiled weakly. “Thank you.”
He looked at me for a long moment, as if he was trying to figure something out in his head, before exhaling a heavy sigh. “Right. We better go in.”
“I don’t have to,” I quickly offered, feeling awkward and unsure. “I can wait out here if you prefer.”
“What—no!” He climbed out and opened my door. “I don’t want that.”
“Are you sure?” I whispered, feeling my heart race unsteadily in my chest.
Johnny nodded, but he looked as uncertain as I felt. “I want you to come in, Shannon.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
Inhaling a deep, steadying breath, I climbed out of the car and stared up at his face, feeling very small and very lost. I needed him to take the lead here. This was unfamiliar territory for me. I didn’t know how to approach this.
“Come on,” Johnny finally said, thankfully taking control of the strange situation we had found ourselves in, as he took ahold of my elbow and led us out of the rain.
When we stepped into the house, Johnny released my elbow and closed the door behind us.
Meanwhile, I stood in the enormous entrance hall and tried my best not to stare at the antique hall table lining the wall or the expensive-looking coat rack just inside the door, and I definitely tried not to gape at the huge grandfather clock, ticking loudly, or the countless paintings lining the immaculate ivory walls.
When Johnny kicked off his shoes, I automatically copied him, not wanting to traipse mud on the perfectly polished black-and-white-patterned tiles.
I’d stood in this very hall a little over a week ago, but I had been too nervous to take in my surroundings. I was still nervous. Maybe even more nervous.
But it was different today.
There was no Joey or Gibsie to distract me. It was just Johnny and me. And his mother.
Oh god…
43Meddling Mothers
JOHNNY
There was something very wrong with me.
