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Rolling onto my side, I pushed my curls back and gave my bestie my full attention. “Do you hold it against me?”
“I would never hold anything against you, Claire,” she replied, mirroring my actions.
I smiled sadly. “You don’t even know what I’m referring to.”
“Because it doesn’t matter.” She reached out with her foot and poked my leg with her toe. “It would never happen.”
“But I knew, Shan. I knew something was wrong in your house,” I confessed, repeating a conversation we’d had a couple of times this summer. “I didn’t do anything about it, and the guilt is still eating me.”
“Claire, you have nothing to feel guilty about. You didn’t know. Not really. I never told you anything. You had a feeling. And you did everything you could have done for me. Trust me, I know.” Pushing up onto her knees, Shannon grabbed a hair tie off her wrist and pulled her hair into a makeshift bun. “I’m still here. I made it. He didn’t beat me.” Smiling softly, she gestured to herself and then our surroundings. “And look at my life now.”
“I know and I’m so thankful you’re here,” I strangled out, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.
Johnny’s family had taken Shannon and her brothers in when their parents died in a house fire earlier this year. A fire that had been purposefully set by their abusive, alcoholic father.
The six Lynch siblings had been through hell and back this year and had finally found a soft landing in the Kavanagh home.
Their oldest brother, Darren, was grown and lived up north. Meanwhile, Joey was in therapy for his addiction issues. Shannon and the three younger boys—Tadhg, Ollie, and Sean—resided in the manor with the Kavanaghs. And boy were those kids thriving.
Springing forward, I threw my arms around her and squeezed tightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Okay, what’s really wrong?” she asked with a small chuckle as she hugged me back.
“What do you mean?”
“Something’s on your mind.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because you’re an open book,” Shannon explained. “I’m not going to force you into telling me anything, but know that you can, and I’ll never judge. No matter what.”
“It’s Liz,” I admitted, pulling back to look at her. “I think she might be hurting herself again.”
“Again?” Shannon’s face paled. “What do you mean ‘again’?”
“Aw crap, I keep forgetting you weren’t around much back then. Even though we’ve been friends forever, there are huge patches of time you weren’t there when we were growing up.”
“Focus, Claire,” Shannon urged, sounding panicked. “When did this happen before?”
“After Caoimhe passed away.” Swallowing deeply, I pressed a hand to my brow and fought the internal panic clawing at me. “She was cutting for a while back then.”
“Cutting?” Her blue eyes widened in horror. “Are you talking about self-harm?”
I nodded grimly. “Um, it was a really dark time in her life, and I told my mam who then told her mam.”
“Good,” Shannon urged, offering me a supportive nod. “That’s good, Claire.”
“And I thought it helped, you know? Her parents got her into counseling and the cutting stopped, but then I saw her at the pool this morning and she has this huge scar on her thigh, and it looked so much like the ones I used to see on her…” My words broke off and I blew out a shaky breath. “She said she fell on barbed wire, but that’s not true, Shan. I know it in my gut.”
“Oh god,” Shannon whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. “Poor Lizzie.”
“So, I guess I’m asking you to tell me what to do,” I added, feeling nervous and uncertain. “I don’t want to upset her or make things harder for her than they already are, but I can’t sit back and do nothing.” Like I did with you.
“No,” Shannon agreed quietly.
“So, what do I do?”
“What about talking to her about it?”
