"Oh." Unlocking my arms and legs, I slid down his body, every inch of my skin flaming with embarrassment. "Oh, that makes more sense."
Feeling lightheaded, I sank down on the edge of his bed, pressed my hand to my chest, and exhaled a tremulous breath.
"Your dog," I panted, breathing hard. "Sleeps in your bed."
It wasn’t a question.
I was just trying to piece everything together.
"I said hi and she wagged her tail. I thought she was a –"
"Ghost?" Johnny offered, smirking.
I shook my head.
"Don’t make jokes," I whispered, still shivering as the adrenalin inside of me slowly dissipated. "Not yet."
Sookie touched her wet nose to my bare thigh and nuzzled gently, distracting me.
"Look at you," I whispered, giving her my attention.
It was clear from the white hair on her face that she was an old dog.
"You're so sweet." Reaching over, I placed my hand on her head and stroked lightly.
"Now this one is sweet," Johnny stated. "She's mine – and much better behaved than the other two."
"Well, Sookie, you almost gave me a heart attack with your impressive hiding skills," I added, feeling my heart slowly return to its natural rhythm. "But you're still very sweet."
"Are you okay?" Johnny asked, tone serious now.
I felt the mattress shift beside me, but I didn’t look up from his dog.
"I should’ve warned you that she was in here," he added. "I'm just so used to her that I totally forgot. She can pass out for hours up here."
"It's okay," I whispered, keeping my attention on Sookie.
"It's okay or you're okay?"
I chewed on my lip and thought about it for a moment before saying, "It's okay and I will be okay."
Dropping my head in my hands, I let out a low groan. "God, I'm so embarrassed. Did you guys hear me screaming all the way down in the kitchen?"
"Actually, it was just me," he replied. "I was on the way up to talk to you when I heard you scream."
My heartbeat quickened.
"Talk to me?"
"Yeah, your brother had to take off while you were in the shower."
"Joey's gone?" I croaked out, feeling a sudden surge of panic race through me. "Is something wrong?"
Johnny nodded and clasped his hands together, elbows resting on his huge thighs.
"What is it?" I squeezed out. "Tell me, Johnny!"
"It's, ah, it's your Ma, Shannon," he finally said, tone gruff.
"What about my Mam?" I whispered. "Oh my god, is she dead?"
"No, no, fuck no," Johnny hurried to say. Turning to face me, he exhaled a pained sigh, took my trembling hand in his big, warm one, and said, "She had a miscarriage."
She had a miscarriage.
Your mother has lost the baby, Shannon.
Feel something!
Feel something, dammit!
I was dead on the inside.
I had to be.
That, or I was downright evil.
There was no other explanation for it.
Feeling relief over the loss of a pregnancy was the most disgusting, horrible, unforgivable crime on the face of the planet.
And that's the first thing I felt when those words came out of Johnny's mouth.
An overwhelming swell of sheer relief washed over my body for the briefest of moments as my brain registered the gratitude encompassing my heart at the knowledge that another child wouldn’t be born into this hell.
It was bad enough that we had been born into this life.
"I’m so fucking sorry, Shannon," Johnny said, squeezing my hand. "I hate that I had to tell you that."
"Is she okay?" I croaked out, when words found me.
Johnny nodded. "Your brother said she's okay, and that she had the miscarriage on Friday – although you probably knew that she was in the –"
"Yeah," I quickly lied to cover up the carnage, feeling tears prickle my eyes as disgust and self-hatred took over. "We knew there was a problem."
Was that what happened?
Was that where she went?
Was she all alone in the hospital all weekend and none of us knew?
We were bitching about her being a bad mother and she was lying in a hospital bed, losing her baby.
Oh god.
"Of course." Johnny nodded and exhaled another heavy sigh. "Joey told me to tell you that your dad is picking her up from the hospital and that they'll both be home soon."
My body froze.
The weighted pain and fearful anticipation settled down on my shoulders like an old friend's hand.
That's how familiar I was with the feeling of fear.
My heart could not have sunk any further if I tied weights to it and dropped it into the ocean.
He was back.
Why was he back?
Why couldn’t he just go away forever?
"Your brother wants you to stay here for a while. He said he would call when he can come get you –" Johnny paused before adding, "but I can take you home whenever you want, okay?"
"Joey shouldn’t have put you in that position," I croaked out, wrestling to keep my emotions at bay. "I'm so sorry about this." I stood up to leave. "I can go now."
"Shannon." Johnny's hand snaked out and wrapped around my wrist. "I don’t want you to go," he said gruffly, tugging me back down beside him. "I want you here." He rested a hand on the bed right behind my back and leaned close. "I want you to stay with me."
I shook my head, unable to form a single word.
I had a horrible taste in my mouth.
It matched the one in the pit of my stomach.
Impending doom, I acknowledged.
That's what I was tasting and feeling right now.
My father was back.
Once I left this house and returned to mine, the vicious, never-ending circle would continue.
Suddenly, I never wanted to leave this room.
Do not cry, Shannon Lynch, I warned myself. Do not shed another tear!
I dropped my head and blinked like crazy, desperately trying to fight back the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks in big, fat drops.
It didn’t work.
One tear slid down my cheek, followed in quick succession by another and then another.
"I'm going to hug you," Johnny whispered in my ear. "Tell me if that's not okay?"
Sniffling, I turned inwards and buried my face in his side, answering his question with actions.
Johnny's arms came around me, pulling me close, and I clutched his shirt in my hand, fisting the fabric tightly, as sobs racked through my body.
"I'm here for you," he told me, voice gruff and thick, as his hand moved in slow circles over my back. "If you need someone to talk to," he pulled me closer, "I'm right here."
I couldn’t stop crying and I wasn’t sure if it was the fear of facing my father pushing me over the edge, or my mother's miscarriage, or the emotions building up inside of me because of this boy whose arms I was currently in.
Unable to get a handle on myself, and desperately seeking the comfort and safety that oozed from him in waves, I did something incredibly reckless.
I crawled onto his lap.
Johnny's entire frame tensed, and his hands fell away from my body, but I didn’t stop.
I couldn’t.
With my knees on either side of his thighs, I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck.
"What do you want me to do, Shannon?" Johnny strangled out. "Tell me what to do here."
"Hold me," I sobbed, burying my face in his neck. "Don’t let go."
"Okay." His large hand cupped the back of my head and his other moved to my back as he held me to his chest, slowly rocking me on his lap. "I won't," he whispered, folding me up in his arms.
Trembling, I clung to his body and prayed for him to be my strength in this moment because I couldn’t do this anymore.
I couldn’t live like this.
I was so alone.
All my life.
I was so scared.
37
It's your birthday
Shannon
I spent a solid twenty minutes wrapped up in Johnny's arms as I desperately tried to get a handle on my emotions.
Finally, when I didn’t feel like I had another tear left inside of my body to shed, I pulled back to look at him.
His blue eyes burned with sympathy as he watched me carefully.
"Hi," I sniffled, feeling embarrassed.
"Hi," Johnny said gruffly as he smoothed my damp hair back off my face and over my shoulder.
"Thanks," I croaked out, resisting the urge to press my cheek into his hand.
"For what?" he asked thickly, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ears.
"Holding me and not letting go," I offered weakly.