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All material is copyrighted by Chloe Walsh 

Johnny & Shannon - alternative scene

"You didn't!"

"Yeah, Shan, I did."


"You lie."

"Sometimes, but never to you."

"But, Johnny, that’s impossible." I shook my head, not trusting the hope attempting to bloom in my chest. "All the tickets are sold out."

"Why'd you think I missed my first three classes on this morning,” my boyfriend replied, looking thoroughly delighted with himself. "You and me. Alone. No kids. No meddling ma’s.” He leaned closer, hitching an elbow against the newly built fence that separated the pitch from the spectators. “We can –“

"Kavanagh!" Mr. Mulcahy roared from across the pitch, causing me to jump backwards and Johnny to groan. "No girlfriends at training!"

Swallowing down his frustration, Johnny scratched the back of his neck. "Alright, sir." Turning back to me, he said, "Can we do this later?" He gestured to where the rest of his teammates were running drills. "We'll talk about this at lunch."

Could we do this later? 

After he dropped a bomb like that? 

Absolutely not.

"We’re really going?" I breathed, reaching out a hand to grab the hem of his jersey before he jogged off. "To see McFly? You’re really serious?” 

"Yeah, baby, we really are." Grinning, he leaned over the rail and tucked a rogue tendril behind my ear. "So, I did good?” 

"So good," I assured him with a bright smile, as I sprang towards him and attempted to wrap my arms around his waist, not an east feat when there was a fence separating us.  "I can't believe this," I practically screamed as I did a little happy wiggle. "You actually got us McFly tickets!"

"Good," he chuckled, wrapping his arms around my waist and hoisting me clean over the fence. “Happy to please.” 

"You are the best–" I paused to kiss him hard on the lips, "boyfriend," I kissed him again, "ever!" 

"Kavanagh!" Mr. Mulcahy bellowed. Seconds later, a rugby ball came whooshing past our heads. "Put the fucking girl down and concentrate on the game."

Johnny & Shannon at the end of his 6th year

Smiling to myself, I allowed him to turn me in his arms. "Didn’t think you were getting off that easily, did you?" Johnny teased, the alcohol on his breath potent. His smile was loose, and the seriousness that always seemed to occupy his eyes was absent. 

"This one's a request from your resident celebrity, folks," the DJ called out over the mic, and the crowd erupted in cheers. "Shannon Lynch?" The DJ added. "Your boyfriend wants you to know he's coming back for you."

"Go on Johnny boy!" I distinctively heard Gibsie hoot above the rest of the cheers and wolf whistles.

Meanwhile, my heart pumped so hard in my chest, I felt faint. I could feel the tears burning at the back of my eyes, but I refused to ruin our last night together by bawling like a baby. 

Johnny pulled me into his arms, twirling me once on the way. I laughed and let him move me around the floor as Declan Ó Rourke's Whatever Else Happens played out, breaking my heart and piecing it back together all at once. 

"This is what I feel," he told me, pulling my body flush against his, hands clamped on my hips. 

"It is?" I whispered, looking up at him with more love in my heart than I knew how to handle. 

"I'm coming back for you, baby," he promised, ducking his face to claim my mouth with his. "You better start believing it."

Resting my head on his chest, I closed my eyes and listened to every single word of the song playing around us. 

Inhaling a deep steadying breath, I tightened my hold on his neck, clinging to him for dear life, praying I could pause this moment and keep him here with me forever, or at least until I finished school so I could go with him. 

Deleted scene between Gibsie and Joey
at the end of Redeeming 6

"Can I pull off leather pants?" Gibsie asked when he burst into the annex later that evening, looking like the love child of Jon Bon Jovi and Sting. "Are my balls supposed to look like this?" Waving a hand at the bulge in his skin-tight leather pants, he added, "You can see the stem of my cock, lad. I know you can't see the full shaft, but that's not supposed to happen, right?" 

"I know I should ask what you're doing," I replied, not even surprised by his latest escapade, as I balanced my sleeping child on my shoulder, while I prepped his bottle. "But I'm going to go with 'get the fuck of my house, you creepy bastard' instead." 

"Isn't is obvious?" He stared at me like I'd grown three heads. "I’m Danny."

I gaped right back at him. "Danny who?" 

 "Zuko," he snorted. "For the school Halloween party tonight."

"You're going?"

"You're not?"

Rolling my eyes, I gestured to the baby in my arms and then to my two youngest brothers, who were snuggled up on the couch with my girlfriend. "What do you think, lad?” 

"Tadhg’s going.”

“Yeah, and I can guarantee he isn’t going to shame himself in leather and fucking lace, Gibs.” 

“Come on, Lynchy, I need your help with this," he groaned, prowling towards me with his bollocks hanging out. "Claire got me these pants, but it won't go in, lad. What should I do?" 

"You should turn around, walk out of my house, and go find someone qualified to deal with your level of crazy," I snapped, jerking away from him before my body came within touching distance of his cock. 

"I would but Johnny's not home yet," he huffed, folding his arms across his chest. "So, you're going to have suck it up and help me squash my balls." 

Deleted scene from Redeeming 6

The familiar song echoed from the speakers and I stilled, body coiled tight with tension, as a flurry of images filled my mind.


Memories, I realized.


Memories I had tried so badly to block that I had self-destructed.

Raw to the bone, I sank down on the nearest chair, completely fucking reeling.

I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t think about her.

Not now.

Not ever.


Help me.

Joey, go…


Jerking to my feet, I stalked through the club, moving straight for the bar. Every movement was automatic. A direct response to my 'trauma'. Was it trauma or was it life? Both, I thought to myself as I ordered a shot. 

Don’t do this.

Do it.

No one cares.

What do you care if no one cares?

Fuck them!

I'm not an alcoholic, I reminded myself as I stared at the glass in front of me. No, but you are a heroin addict, and you can't afford to lose control of your inhibitions. 

Doesn’t matter.

It'll make it go away.

But will it? 

Joey, help me…

Feeling frantic, I slammed the glass down and turned away. I made it three steps before returning to the bar and swiping the glass back up. 

Just give it up, lad.  

You're never going to change.

 Just like your old man.

She doesn’t want you.

One call and it's all over.

All this pain.

You're just like me, boy.

"No!" Dropping the glass on the floor, I watched as it shattered in to a million pieces. 

Devastated at the sight of my escape soaking into the floor, I spun on my heels and barreled towards the exit. 

Just make it ten minutes.

Ten minutes and if you still want to do this, you can go back inside and get shit-faced.



Breaking into a run once I reached the doorway of the club, I ran at top speed, desperate to use every one of those ten minutes to get as far away from temptation as I physically could. 

Avoiding every street corner I was familiar with, I turned my attention to the rhythm of my heartbeat, pushing my body to the point of pain, needing to move.

Panicked, I tore at my jumper, yanking it away from my body, desperate to rid my senses of the smell. 

By the time I reached the familiar terraced house, I was bare-chested and shivering. 

The fuck was I going to do now?

I couldn’t knock on her door half-naked at four in the morning. She'd think the worst. She would usually be right. Not tonight. Not for a long time. 

Restless, I decided to take a gamble on her thinking the worst.

Dodging piles of dog shit, I climbed the garden shed, moving silently to the window I'd spent the past several years of my life sneaking in and out of.

Relief more potent than I'd ever felt flooded my body at the sight of the cracked window.


My heart hammered violently in my chest when my eyes landed on Molloy sleeping in her bed and the tiny white Moses basket beside her.

Hoisting myself onto the ledge, I kicked off my shoes and quickly slipped inside.

Landing like a cat in her room, I slowly stood up, keeping an eye on her bedroom door and listening intently for any sound of life. 

When nothing but the soft snuffling snores of my baby filled my ears, I crept over to the basket, feeling my heart hammer harder with every step I took. 

The moment my eyes landed on his face, I felt lightheaded.


It happened every time I spent time away from him.


Fear channeled its way up inside of me and I instantly began to worry about his future.


Would he have the same failing – the same defected genes – as his father.


As his grandfather.


Did I curse this baby?


Was he going to grow up all fucked up in the head because I was his father?


Jesus, I hoped not.


The thought of him feeling about me the way I felt about my own father made it hard to breathe.


It made me want to run and drown myself in whatever I could get my hands on. 

I must have stood over him for a solid hour, eyes glued to his blond head, praying to whatever was up there to skip over my child and give him a fair shot at life.


A fighting chance.


Vowing more than I could ever give, I offered it all up for this kid.


Promising the sun, the moon, and the stars for life to give him all the good in exchange for whatever was left inside of me.


When he stirred a little while later, I carefully lifted him out of his basket and grabbed the bottle on the nightstand. Setting to work on a task I honestly could do blindfolded, I went through the motions of feeding and winding my son before changing his nappy and settling him back down for the night.


It was different with him than it had been with Ollie, Sean, and Tadhg. It was deeper. There was something inside of me, an invisible cord of sorts, that went from my chest into his. I felt it every time I laid eyes on him.


Feeling his tiny body pressed to my chest when I fed him was the reality check I needed. I was responsible for this tiny person and his sleeping mother. 

Thanking Jesus that Molloy slept through his feed, I tucked him back in, feet to foot, like I already knew, and gently stroked his soft cheek until his breathing evened out.


Just like his mother. 

Be like her, I mentally begged our sleeping child. Please don't turn out like me. 


Knowing that I didn’t have the willpower to resist drugs and my family in the same night, I gave into temptation and kicked off my jeans, rolling them into a makeshift pillow, before lying down on the floor between the basket and her bed.

What are you doing, lad? 

She doesn’t want you here.

She's scared of you, dammit.

Like father, like son.

Crawl back in the hole you came from.

You'll end up doing to her what he did to your mother.

You're no good, Joey Lynch. You never were.

Leave this baby alone before you taint –


My eyes sprang open at the sound of her voice and I held my breath, terrified that she would send me away again. 

"Come here, Joe." 

Uncertain, I slowly sat up and turned to look at her. 

She was lying on her side, facing me.


"Come here," she instructed softly.

Nervous, I eyed her warily. "Me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Know any other Joey's with a penchant for sneaking through my bedroom window in the middle of the night?"

"No, and I hope you don’t either." 

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