Needing 13 - Johnny Kavanagh

LORD AND A BOY

JOHNNY

A storm brewing—that was the only way to describe my girlfriend right now. An intense, churning storm of emotions threatening to break loose at any moment.

The reason?

Teddy Lynch. Her father.

Earlier that day, I found Shannon leaning against the railing outside the P.E. hall, eyes sunken, looking like she hadn't slept in days. It wasn't long before she spilled the news—Teddy had been found holed up in Brickley House, but the worst part? He wasn't going to jail. Thirty days in a treatment facility, then he'd be let back out. No real punishment. No justice.

How could anyone think that bastard deserved rehab instead of a cell? He wasn't some poor soul who'd lost his way. He was a coward, a violent one, and he didn't belong in rehab—he belonged behind bars.

I offered to text Gibsie, maybe arrange for Shannon to hang out and unwind a bit. Seeing her so stressed broke my heart, but she said her boyfriend was already coming to pick her up. With that sorted, my thoughts turned to Tara. Shannon had mentioned that my girlfriend had not only gotten into a fight with Darren but had also had it out with her mother. Tadhg, her usual ally, was right by her side, stirring the pot as always. After that, Tara had disappeared to find Joey, and neither of them had returned home until five in the morning.

Something was wrong.

I borrowed Gibsie's car and made my way to BCS, determined to convince Tara to skip her classes and get some air. I figured we could drive somewhere, get away from everything, even if just for a little while. It didn't take long to find her—she was outside, leaning against a wall, deep in conversation with her brother. They both went quiet as soon as they saw me. Joey gave me a curt nod, then turned to his sister, muttering a goodbye before heading back inside.

I didn't need to say a word. Tara silently walked over to the car, opened the passenger door, and slid inside. She sat down, eyes distant, barely acknowledging me.

"Hey," I greeted her softly, offering a smile she didn't return.

"Hey," she replied, her voice quiet, as though she hadn't even realized I was there.

Tara wasn't like Shannon. Shannon would talk if you gave her enough time, let her process. But Tara? She was a fortress. You couldn't get anything out of her unless she wanted to tell you herself.

Think, Kav.

I glanced at her again. She'd rolled the window down, her cheek resting against the door, letting the wind whip through her hair. The tension in the air between us was thick enough to cut, and I knew I had to do something to break it. I took a detour, ditching our usual route and heading toward the coast.

The good thing about living on the south coast of Ireland? You were never too far from the sea.

Now, here we were, parked in Gibsie's battered silver Focus, rain hammering down in sheets, and she still hadn't said a word. I could feel the tension radiating off her, and it was killing me not knowing how to help.

"Tara—" I reached out, my hand grazing her shoulder. But she jerked away from me, throwing the door open, and stalked straight out toward the beach, not even bothering to look back.

"Shite," I muttered under my breath, grabbing my crutch and scrambling to get out of the car after her. I barely had the doors locked before I was hobbling through the pouring rain, trying to catch up. "Baby, wait! For fuck's sake, wait!"

She stopped, spinning around to face me. Her eyes were wild, a storm of anger and exhaustion swirling behind them. "You heard, right?" she demanded. "About my dad. Shannon told you."