falling for 13 || Johnny Kavanagh

Phone Calls

G R A C E

Johnny: "Hey." His voice was low and rough, tinged with both exhaustion and worry. "Finally. Jesus, I've been trying to get through to you for days. What's going on? Why haven't you been answering me?"

Grace: I shifted on the edge of my bed, my knees pulled to my chest. My fingers gripped the phone tightly. "I've been busy," I mumbled, knowing the excuse wouldn't fool him. There was no point in trying to hide any of this shit anymore.

Johnny: "Busy?" His voice was sharp, full of disbelief. "Too busy to text me back? Too busy to pick up the phone? Grace, come on. What's going on? This isn't like you."

Grace: My chest tightened. He sounded so concerned, so Johnny. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Johnny: "Well, you did," he shot back. "I was ready to drive back to Cork myself and start banging on your door. You've got to talk to me. What's happening, baby?"

Grace: My breath hitched as tears pricked at my eyes. I knew I couldn't avoid it anymore. He deserved to know. "It's my dad," I finally said, my voice barely audible.

Johnny: "Your dad?" Confusion colored his tone, and then something colder slipped in, like he was piecing things together. "What about him?"

Grace: I swallowed hard. "He's not... eh- He's not like other dads, Johnny. He's...he hurts us."

Johnny: The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Then, finally, his voice came through, low and shaky. "What do you mean, Grace? He hurts you how?"

Grace: I squeezed my eyes shut. "He hits us, Johnny. Me, my brothers, Shannon. He has for as long as I can remember. And he screams and—he just...he's cruel."

Johnny: "Jesus Christ," Johnny muttered, his voice laced with anger and disbelief. "Grace, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say anything before? I would've done something—I should've done something."

Grace: "What could you have done, Johnny?" I asked, my voice breaking. "He's...he's my dad. And you've got enough to deal with. Rugby, school, your own life."

Johnny: "Fuck all that," he snapped. "Grace, you're more important than any of that. You always have been. And you shouldn't have to deal with this. Not alone."

Grace: "I didn't want anyone to know," I admitted, my voice trembling. "I was ashamed. And scared."

Johnny: "You don't have anything to be ashamed of," he said fiercely. "Not a fucking thing. He's the one who should be ashamed. He's a fucking coward, Grace."

Grace: His words sent a strange sense of relief washing over me. "I just...didn't want you to see me like this," I confessed.

Johnny: "Grace, you could never change how I see you," he said, his voice softening. "You're the strongest person I know, even if you don't see it."

Grace: Tears slipped down my cheeks, but I kept my voice steady. "How are you, Johnny? Are you okay?"

Johnny: "Don't," he said, a hint of frustration in his tone. "Don't turn this back on me. I'm fine. I'm in Dublin for a few more days, but I'll be back in Cork soon." His voice softened again. "I just wish I was there with you right now."

Grace: "I wish you were, too," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny: "I mean it, Grace. Next time anything happens—anything—you call me. No excuses, no hiding. You tell me, yeah?"

Grace: I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Yeah."

Johnny: "Good." His voice carried a weight of determination. "And I'll be back soon, I'll come see ya straight away."

Grace: "Johnny," I started, but he interrupted.

Johnny: "Next time he lays a hand on you— next time anything happens— you tell me. Immediately. No bullshit. No excuses. You tell me."

Grace: "I will" I closed my eyes, holding onto his words like a lifeline. "Thank you," I whispered.

Johnny: "Don't thank me," he said softly. "I love you."

Grace: "I love you back," I whispered.