"It's okay," she coaxed, wrapping me up in her arms. "Shh, it's okay. Everything's going to be okay."
"What if something happens to him?" I sobbed, clutching her for dear life. "What if something goes wrong in theatre –"
"No," she interrupted, her voice a stern whisper. "He's going to be fine –"
A soft knock on the door startled me and caused both of us to spring up on the bed.
My eyes darted to the three sleeping girls and then back to Claire.
She stared back at me, wide eyed.
"Girls," a familiar, muffled voice came from the other side of the hotel room door. "Let me in."
Claire held a hand up, motioning for me to stay where I was, before sliding off the bed and tiptoeing across the room.
"Gerard?" she whispered, pressing her ear to the door.
"Yeah, it's me, babe," Gibsie's voice came from the other side.
Thank god.
Scrambling off the bed, I hurried to the door just as Claire pulled it open.
We both winced when the hallway light almost blinded us both.
"Hey," Gibsie acknowledged as he stood in the doorway wrapped in a coat and beany cap. "Thought you'd be up."
"What's happening?" Claire quickly asked him. "Have you heard anything?"
"Is Johnny okay?" I demanded. "Is he out of surgery yet?"
"Were you talking to his parents?" Claire asked. "Is his mam with him?"
"Is he okay?" I repeated, voicing rising.
"One at a time, girls, Christ," Gibsie muttered as he stepped back into the hallway and gestured for us to follow him.
We both went without hesitation.
"I just got off the phone from his Dad," Gibsie stated as he leaned against the wall, looking pale and exhausted. "This goes no further than the three of us," he added, casting us both warning glances. "Is that clear?"
We both nodded.
Gibsie, in turn, nodded wearily. "He's out of surgery – everything went fine," he quickly added, looking at me. "Your boy's alright, little Shannon. Take a breath."
"Thank god," I breathed, pressing my hand to my chest.
The relief that flooded my body was so strong that I had to take a couple of steps back and lean against the opposite wall.
"When they opened him up, they found a huge-ass adhesion from where they operated on his adductor at Christmas," he explained. "Apparently, it was pretty bad."
"How bad?" I whispered, panicking again.
Gibsie grimaced. "According to his Dad, it was blocking Johnny's sperm chord or some horrific fucking catastrophe like that." Shuddering, he added, "Could have seriously damaged his chances of having a family further down the line."
"That's what was causing him all that pain?" I croaked out, devastated to think that he was in so much agony. "Oh, god."
"Not just that," Gibsie said with a sigh. "He has a bad infection in the leg and John Sr. said they had to perform something called concomitant surgery because Johnny had something called an Athletic Pubalgia they didn’t spot in his last tests and scans?"
"What the hell is that?" Claire gasped.
"Fuck knows, babe," Gibsie told her. "I'm no doctor, and I have not one iota of what the fuck any of that means, but whatever it is, it was crippling him."
"It's a sports hernia," I whispered, remembering reading about it once in an article at school.
"That's pretty bad, right?" Claire asked.
"It's excruciating," I choked out, paling at the thought of how much pain Johnny had to have been enduring these past few months. "He must have been in so much pain playing with that kind of injury."
Gibsie nodded grimly. "The doctors told his father that they don’t know how he walked around with the pain, let alone continued to play rugby."
"Is he awake?" Claire asked with a hopeful expression.
Gibsie shook his head. "Nah, he's still in recovery. They have him dosed to the high heavens, so he'll be out for the count for another bit."
"Are you going to see him?" I asked.
"Hell fucking yes, I'm going to see him," Gibsie grumbled. "And you're coming with me."
"Me?"
"Yes, you, little Shannon," Gibsie replied. "He'll want to see you."
"He will?"
He nodded. "Go get your clothes on. I'll call a taxi."
"What about Mr. Mulcahy?" Claire added, worrying her lip. "He and Mrs. Moore said we're not allowed to leave our rooms."
"Coach can kiss my lily-white ass," Gibsie shot back without hesitation. "That's my best friend lying in a hospital bed, babe."
"But, Gerard, it's only six in the morning," Claire added, sounding concerned. "And I don’t want you to get into trouble –" she paused to look at me, "either of you."
"In the words of the late, great Freddie Mercury: don’t stop me now," he told her. "Just go back to bed and I'll text you in a bit."
"Shannon, don’t go," Claire turned to me and said, eyes filled with concern. "If you get caught, and they tell your father –"
"I'm going," I croaked out, stopping her before she could finish that sentence.
I knew what would happen.
I also knew that it would happen regardless.
I was here in Dublin when I was supposed to be at home.
He was going to kill me anyway.
I had to go.
Hurrying back into the room, I threw my uniform back on – not easy in the dark and with sleeping roommates – and then quickly rushed back out to the hallway to where Claire was still standing with Gibsie.
"You take care of her, Gerard Gibson, do you hear me?" she was hissing. "Don’t leave her on her own at any time for any reason. And if you get caught, then you take the wrap, okay? I don’t care what you have to do, but you figure something out so she doesn’t get blamed for this –"
"Little Shannon," Gibsie announced, nudging Claire's shoulder to alert her to the fact that I was back and could hear them.
"Hi," I breathed, smoothing down my coat.
"Ready for a jail break?" he added with a grin.
I looked to Claire who was worrying her lip and shaking her head before turning back to Gibsie.
Forcing the image of my father's face from my mind, I exhaled a ragged breath and nodded. "I'm ready."
65
Find the girl
Johnny
When I opened my eyes, it was to a dark room and the sound of beeping monitors.
Unsure of where the fuck I was, I automatically began to panic and tear at the wires strapped to my chest and arms.
There were some stuck up my nose, too, and I smacked at them, trying to break free.
My hands felt strange – like they didn’t belong to me.
My head felt the same.
My eyeballs were rolling around in my head of their own accord.
Seriously, I couldn’t get a handle on them.
I tried to focus, I tried real hard to make sense of my surroundings, but my eyes kept fluttering and the room was spinning.
Was I stoned?
Did Gibsie get me high?
That bastard…
"Johnny – it's okay, son." My father's voice came from close by. "Don’t be pulling at your IV. You'll hurt yourself."
"Da?"
"I'm right here, son."
The sound of a chair scraping off tiles filled my ears.
"Da," I croaked out, calming when I felt his warm hand cover mine. "Where am I?"
I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was close.
His voice was right there by my ear, making me feel safe.
His hand touched my forehead, brushing my hair back, just like he used to do when I was small.
"You're in the recovery room, son."
Jesus Christ, I was?
I could just about remember the ambulance ride to the hospital.
Everything was blurry.
And painless.
I had no pain.
Nothing.
"You had surgery, son," my father explained.
"Fuck," I croaked out. "Is my dick still there?"
"It's still there," Dad chuckled softly.
"And my balls?"
"Also there," he mused. "All in working order."
I exhaled a ragged breath. "Thank Jesus."
"Do you remember the match last night?" he asked. "You were in a bad way, son."
"I remember the girl," I slurred. "Why's everything dark?"
"Because you're supposed to be sleeping," my father told me. "It's six o’clock in the morning. Still dark outside."
"So, no lights anywhere?" I asked, confused. "They're all gone?"