Chapter Text
The second Shannon arrived in New York, she felt like she could breathe easier.
Okay, yeah that sounded dumb considering the open air just outside of South Bend, Indiana. But stepping off the plane to a bustling airport already had her feeling so much more at home than she did at college. The Indiana city was so quiet in comparison to her home. So quiet, in fact, Shannon considered it more of a town than anything else, even knowing it was one of the state’s bigger cities.
It wasn’t very ‘New York’ of her, but Shannon was finding it difficult to keep the smile off her face. She had her team duffel slung over her shoulder as she made her way to her childhood home. The lights were starting to come on as she skipped up the steps to the house she’d called home for her entire life. It wasn’t much, and yeah, Woodland Heights was a little sleepier than other parts of New York, but she loved it there. The joy was hardly contained in her chest when she was finally turning her key into the door. Shannon let herself in like she had done many times when her dad had to stay the night at the firehouse.
Unfortunately, this time around, he was unable to get away to come pick her up from JFK, and by picking her up, Shannon meant waiting at baggage claim for her just to ride the train back to their apartment. When she’d come home for Christmas, he’d been waiting there with a slice of her favorite pizza from her favorite spot and the biggest smile she’d ever seen. Even had a cheesy poster with a Leprechaun on it that said, “Welcome Home, Superstar.” Shannon was just glad he’d replaced her childhood nickname with something a little less embarrassing. Well, mostly glad.
The memory had her debating on just dropping her bag and heading to Engine 63/Ladder 39. It had been months since she’d seen her dad, and while she was enjoying college for the most part, she missed him something fierce.
He was her person.
For her entire life, it had been just the two of them against the world. Aunt Jo too, but being away was challenging in a way Shannon hadn’t expected.
Her teammates were nice enough. Though Shannon sometimes became frustrated with the things they worried about, the partying some of them did—the general lack of focus. She tried not to worry about it, but it felt utterly frivolous. It was the same relative entitlement that Shannon had developed little patience for, ever since she’d received a scholarship to Horace Mann, the most uppity private school in all of New York that her dad insisted she accept. It was a world the daughter of a firefighter shouldn’t be in, to say the least. A lot of her high school classmates had agreed if their teasing said anything about it.
College was going well enough. She liked her classes even though they were mostly gen-eds at this point. She’d somehow managed to escape her first semester, her sport in-season nonetheless, with a 3.8. Her professors were nice, too. Except for her Calc Prof; he hadn’t been thrilled to learn he had an in-season athlete in his class.
Soccer was going extremely well. Pre-season hadn’t been easy, but Shannon didn’t shy from hard. It wasn’t in her blood. That and somehow in all her focus on basketball, and all the uphill battle, switching to soccer so late was… Notre Dame taking a chance on her? It had paid off in spades. She was consistently starting at wing-back by the end of the season and even helped them get a final-four finish. It left her hungry for more.
Even with all that, she missed being around the firehouse. She missed feeling like she was around something that mattered. People who made a difference together. When stakes were at their highest. Not the strange cutthroat sort of camaraderie she’d found with her teammates or in her classes.
She loved soccer, and she was excited about learning more, but if it weren’t for her dad’s insistence (to put it mildly) that she give it a chance, Shannon would have entered the fire academy as soon as she graduated high school. As much as doing hard things was in her blood, firefighting was in her DNA. Every dream of a future she’d ever had was of herself in turnouts.
But none of that compared at all to how much she missed her dad. It was close now. Only a few hours, maybe less, if she took Lucky for a little walk down the block.
Speak of the devil.
The rattle of Lucky’s collar split her cheeks with such a wide smile it hurt. Like she had nearly every day since she’d gotten him, Shannon crouched just inside the door, letting her bear of a German shepherd knock her over with his excitement, licking at her face. Every time she thought of home, there was Lucky with his tail wagging wildly in the door frame to their house. Her dad was her person, but Lucky was her comfort.
He had been by her side since her 10th birthday when one of her dad’s cop friends told him they had a puppy who was a great dog, just not cut out for what they needed in the department. And he was the best. His coat was more golden than black, but now his muzzle was more grey than anything else. His age showed in the slight hobble of his back leg; though the speed of his tail was wagging and how he was panting, ears and tongue floppy as they had ever been, he still felt so much like a puppy.
It was hard to catch her breath as he licked at her face. His giant paws planted firm on her shoulders as he sat on her chest. Harder even, to push his head away from hers to get a break from his relentless kisses as she laughed and laughed just like the day she got him.
“Well, Bug, I’m glad you’re happy to see Lucky, but your old man was hoping for a hug too.” He’d missed his little girl so much it took some convincing from Jo on some of his off days not to get in the car and drive to South Bend.
Shannon had been his “Bug” since she was little. The reason was a bit convoluted: It was one of the hardest calls he’d had in his career. A child about Shannon’s age had needed to be pulled out of the Hudson. He did the only thing he could think of at the end of the call– rushed to Shannon’s school, pulled her out of kindergarten, and gave her the biggest hug he possibly could.
He squeezed her so hard he was a little concerned he was going to crush her. Well, if it wasn’t for the giggling with her babyface cheeks and missing teeth. “Daddy, you’re squishing me like a bug.” She was breathless in a way he couldn’t tell if it was from the hug or the giggles, probably both.
Every shift for the next week, when he came home, Shannon had run up to him and requested a “bug hug”; thus, the nickname was born.
Except Jo was around then, too. And she teased him relentlessly at first about it the next week when Shannon had barreled into the firehouse demanding a “bug hug” in all her toddler force when Jo had picked her up from school.
“You’re gonna call her bug?” She laughed, teasing after Shannon had gotten her request before running off to the calls of “Uncle Benny” for “Junior’s” help on something.
He sighed, climbing up from the knee he had taken to be on Shannon’s level, grunting with the effort, muttering something about getting “too old for this.” It earned a slap from Jo as she helped pull him to his feet. “It makes her laugh,” he explained, despite Jo not asking.
Before he could walk back into the kitchen Jo caught him by the back of his shirt, the laughter settling from her voice as she turned him. “You genuinely see nothing wrong with calling a kid, who practically lives at a firehouse, ‘bug’?” Had he not caught the joke on his own, or if he was just being dense about it? He would do damn near anything to see that little girl smile.
“No?” Sean’s voice was serious.
Even better. It almost pained Jo to make the joke—Point out what a stupid name it was for a kid growing up in a firehouse.
Almost.
But busting Sean’s balls was one of her absolute favorite things to do. It had been since the academy. “Sean—Firebug?”
It was almost fun watching the realization of his own stupidity settle in his widening watercolor eyes. Then that split-second flash of object horror and embarrassment slid down his features before disappearing just as quickly. “Shit.”
All together it was worth every second of dealing with all of the hard this life had brought with it. “Language there, Papa. Little Ears.” She laughed so hard she had to bend over a little bit as she watched Shannon climb into Uncle Benny’s lap.
He laughed just as fondly as he sat little Shannon on his knee, reaching around her to explain how to test the SCBA, holding the mask up for her to get a little sip of air. If that little girl wasn’t his entire… “Well, I just know she’s gonna set the world on fire.” It was a proud smile, one Jo had a hard time wanting to see anything else on her best friend’s face. Besides the point, she absolutely knew it was going to be true.
And now here she was. Grown. Home. Giggling with that dog like she had been doing for so many years. Sometimes he thought maybe Lucky’s time with them was ending and he was just holding on for his girl, and Sean couldn’t be more thankful for that. Losing him would be a grief he wasn’t looking forward to coaching Shannon through; the pair of them had been attached to the hip since the day he brought him home against his better judgment.
At the sound of her dad’s voice Shannon’s head had snapped up so quickly she knocked her eyebrow hard into the crown of Lucky’s noggin. “Ah, Lucky…” she mumbled, coming away from the impact rubbing her forehead for a second before she pushed her dog off of her and damn near teleported across the room into her dad’s arms.
“Oof,” He let out a breath as she collided with his body. Sean had to take a slight step back as he caught his balance to ensure he didn’t wind up on the floor like she had when she’d been attacked by Lucky moments ago. “Tackles like those, maybe you got into the wrong kind of football,” he chuckled, teasing, as he kissed the top of her head. His hands rubbed warm friction through her sweatshirt as he held on to his girl.
Gosh, she always thought it was the firefighter in him—always so warm as she tucked into his arms. Shannon wasn’t convinced there was a safer place in this universe than being right here with her nose tucked into the dip of his collarbone and neck– her head tucked below his chin. Somehow he always managed to smell like coffee, soot, and the dawn dish soap he used to try to get that soot smell off of his skin. She even liked the slight scratch of his uniform shirt against her cheek, though this was certainly one of his more well-loved ones.
“I thought you were going to be at the firehouse.” Shannon pulled back, Lucky leaning heavily into the side of her leg, never quite able to get himself close enough to her. His tail stung just a little as it collided with her calf.
“Yeah, well, surprise! Or something like that.” He grinned, kissing her forehead one more time. Green eyes gleamed in the early evening light coming through the kitchen window. His dimples were always just a little deeper than Shannon’s, his nose just a touch crooked from that time a ladder bounced off of it in the academy—a story Shannon had only heard every time her Uncle Eric came around. But that smile was something that rarely parted with his face. It was one of Shannon’s favorite things about him—how he chose to walk through the world like that.
“What do ya say, Bug? You hungry?”
“Depends on who’s cooking?”
He dipped his head, attempting to raise one eyebrow, somehow never quite mastering that expression in all his years of fatherhood. “Who do you think?” The grin Shannon had the second she saw Lucky doubled in size, happy to have her hopes conformed. “Let's go. She’ll be happy to see you. Been talking about it all shift.” Sean slid the radio over his head and looped his arm around his kid’s shoulders, whistling at Lucky to follow.
“Is she making picadillo with mufungo?”
“Don’t know, Bug. Because we’re still standing here.” He fought the grin. Of course Jo was making Shannon’s favorite. He’d seen the bags of groceries earlier that shift, the fresh ones to make it from scratch too. Even if his daughter’s preferred cuisine broke his Irish heart a little (he was always a little partial to corn beef and cabbage). “C’mooooon. Let’s go.”
Shannon let herself be pulled out of their apartment for the short walk to the firehouse. Her dad clipped Lucky’s leash to his collar with a tiny apology that the new neighborhood laws didn’t let him trot along off leash anymore. It was still a little chilly but Shannon wasn't at all complaining when her dad pulled his watch cap down over her ears.
He was the warmest, safest, person in the world, and wearing some of his clothes somehow just felt like love. His occasional hip bump or shoulder leaning into her on their walk with her dog against her other leg didn’t hurt that feeling, either.
Walking into the firehouse, some of the guys greeted her with hugs or shoulder squeezes, and some variety of ‘good to see ya’s. Uncle Benny, too, especially when he squeezed her tight enough in a hug it was close to the ones her dad gave.
“Uncle Benny,” She laughed, trying to breathe, through the constriction, “stop. Stop. Where’s Auntie Jo?”
“Beanery, kid.” He dropped a kiss to her forehead. He hadn’t been around much after his promotion to Chief, but apparently, today was special enough to have him return to his old house. “Slaving away for you. Wouldn’t even let me sneak a taste.”
“Well, you’d eat it all!” She laughed as he put her back down.
“Bet she lets you sneak some, though.” Uncle Benny teased, pushing her in the direction of the beanery. “I put some beer in the fridge for you,” he stage whispered, grinning devilishly at Sean as he did.
“You can have one,” her dad pointed at her, his feet already kicked up on the table from his chair. Except this time when he patted the spot next to him for Lucky, the dog just huffed a protest out of his nose and followed Shannon, even as Sean faux-pouted. “Traitor.”
“Yes, Sir!” Shannon called, running up the stairs, taking them two at a time as she pulled herself along the railing.
Stepping into the beanery, Shannon saw a picture she’d only ever seen when returning to the firehouse after practice about a million times: Ricky Martin playing on the radio, Auntie Jo dancing as she chopped plantain, her large, curly ponytail swayed down her back. Shannon didn’t bother even greeting her as she stepped across the room, looping her arms around her Aunt’s waist, squeezing her tight as she rested her cheek against the older woman’s shoulder.
“Ah, Junior.” She rolled over the nickname with the accent Shannon always found so intriguing. “I was wondering when you might show up.” Jo spun around in Shannon’s arms, swinging her arm over Shannon’s shoulders to tuck her beneath her arm as she stirred the browning meat in the skillet. “Good flight?”
“No crying babies this time.” Shannon smiled as she hopped up onto the counter, spinning against it as she did. Shannon was nothing if not a creature of habit and hopping into the place she’d been sitting while her dad or Auntie Jo cooked since she was tall enough to do it (before that, she’d be lifted up by the armpits and deposited), was as second nature as most of them at this point. Even the way she swung her feet, banging her heels off the cabinet beneath them as she did, something about the rhythm of it and the way it made her heels tingle a bit with each impact. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, Mijita.” She smiled, as she deposited another kiss on Shannon’s forehead. Apparently the favorite spot for all of New York's Bravest today. “Now, tell me about school.”
“Well, you know…” Shannon started to drone on about the minutiae of college life—Not that Jo didn’t know it already. They only talked at least once a day it seemed, even if it was a five-minute check-in. On the days they didn’t talk, Jo always made sure to try and send her girl a quick text, a picture of Lucky, a story of the most recent silliness her dad had gotten into.
But even though Jo already knew all of that, Shannon went on anyway. It was just something about doing it in person that made things bear repeating. She dove into the soccer news first.It was going better than Shannon could have hoped. More specifically, the training trip they were taking to the UK and Ireland in a few days to round out their spring break had Shannon’s morale higher than ever.
She was so excited to go on her first trip outside of the US, and even more excited to finally get to see ‘the homeland’ her dad loved to go on about. He had been going on about wanting to take her since she was a kid, just hadn’t had the means to do it. She might even get to meet up with a few relatives over there she hadn’t met yet when they played in Dublin.
“Enough about your sportsball,” A dishtowel collided with Shannon’s knee as Aunt Jo poured the tomatoes into the picadillo. “Tell me about the girl!”
It wasn’t often Shannon regretted telling Jo about things, but right now… it was starting to feel that way as she looked eyes wide at the stairwell, hoping no one had come up to hear. “Auntie Jo,” she hissed, the blush dark on her cheeks, burning the tips of her ears.
“What?”
She had told Jo about it. She always told her about the hard stuff, stuff she wasn’t ready for her dad to know yet. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her dad, but Jo was a really good listener—most of the time. So when Shannon had been working herself into a panic two months into the semester about a couple of girls making passes at her… when she had no idea why or what to do about it, or how it made her feel. She’d called her Auntie Jo.
It was late one night, and Steph, a basketball player, had just bumped into her when she was walking home from the gym. It was the first time that Shannon considered saying yes to the girl, the first time she felt flustered. So that night, when she was finally lying in her bed, unable to sleep, she snuck out of her dorm to call her favorite confidant.
Jo had answered groggily but dismissed Shannon’s apologies almost as soon as Shannon started them. It was never a bad time for her. And as Jo had let Shannon ramble for a little bit about it, not catching most of it if she was being honest, she hit Shannon with the best advice she could come up with at the time: That there was no harm in trying if she wanted to.
The only difficult part for Jo was keeping the excitement out of her voice at the prospect, because Shannon sounded nervous, and Shannon was never nervous. Not when she’d fended off several boys throughout the years, claiming focus on whichever sport was in season or school. Shannon couldn’t have been less interested, much to Sean’s relief and Jo’s amusement.
So, to hear Shannon denying it now, backpedaling from that talk, had Jo just a little bit surprised. “What?”
“There is no…” Shannon hesitated, dropping her voice to a whisper, “Girl.”
Jo raises her eyebrow, pausing her stirring to look at Shannon more fully. “What do you mean there is no girl? You were so excited about it.” Shannon dropped her head, though her blush was coloring her ears so deep it didn’t do much to hide it from her stand-in mother. “You didn’t–?” Shannon shook her head again at the half-asked question. “Shannon Darragh.”
“At least tell me you didn’t stand her up.” It was something Jo had been nearly as excited for as Shannon was, when her girl had called her asking for advice. They hadn’t been able to Facetime but it was shyer and more apprehensive than Jo had seen Shannon in a long time as she explained that one of the girls on the basketball team had asked her out. Or at least Shannon thought she might have. Shannon had talked herself in circles about it, for nearly an hour before Jo told her just to ask if the girl meant it as a date or not.
“No!” Shannon defended, looking up from her lap. “I wouldn’t.”
“What happened? You were so excited.”
“Can we please not talk about it?”
Jo was often the one to take the ‘pushing’ Shannon approach, but this didn’t seem like something the teen was entirely ready to be pushed on. “Oh, of course.”
The conversation was over just in time for Uncle Benny to pop upstairs to say goodbye, called away for his ‘big shot’ chief duties. When Jo smacked his head away, from the taste he was trying to steal, she promised him she would save him a plate.
Later, sitting around the large table in the beanery, Shannon was trying not to let her soul transcend to some upper layer of heaven, if that was even a thing, as she dug into her favorite meal. The fairly new firefighter on engine 63 was talking a big game as they ate. He bragged about how quickly he got the hoses out to them on a call earlier that shift. How great he was once they got inside the fire. Shannon couldn’t help but shake her head as she looked around to see the faces of the rest of the shift as this guy talked.
He was trying to make himself look good, so they let him into the group, but Shannon had half a mind to tell him later that he wasn’t going to do anything except buy himself more drills if Jo’s face across the table had anything to say about it.
Shannon had been trying to stifle a laugh as Jo rolled her eyes at one particularly outrageous brag, a little surprised her dad hadn’t told him to shut up so they could enjoy dinner. But then, one of the guys who had been on Ladder with her dad for the last six or so years chimed in for all of them. “I bet Junior can beat you.”
Shannon rolled her eyes, sharing a look with Jo that apparently the new guy missed entirely, shaking her head. It was funny. She thought she could, but also, the teasing on her behalf was always a little amusing. That and she knew that he was going to have to do more drills; she just hadn’t thought she’d somehow get roped into doing it with him.
“You gonna call one of your old buddies in here from retirement just to get his ass kicked?” It was a fair assumption on his part. ‘Junior’ was penned in dry-erase marker on the leaderboards for almost every drill around the house. He had even heard the name in a few stories being tossed around between some of the older guys still around the house.
Laughing, Adams shoveled some more mufungo into his mouth. “Not quite.”
“Who is it then? He at another house?”
“Not a he.” Jo snorted at the same time Shannon ducked her head she raised her hand, in a sort of loose finger gun, as she gulped down a sip of the beer.
“That would be me.”
Her dad nudged her, his eyes sparkling as he leaned in, “Bug, you dust him, and I’ll take you to O’Connell’s for breakfast.”
Shannon didn’t need the incentive. Competitiveness was as integral to who she was as this firehouse. Sometimes she even hated losing more than she liked winning, and embarrassing cocky boys? That made it even better. So Shannon nodded as Jo then made the challenge.
“Well, I’m game if you are.” He smirked and Shannon wanted to wipe the floor with him. If she was going to drill after flying across the country, she certainly was going to make it worth her while.
“You’re on.”
The remaining members of the shift chuckled as the rookie took the challenge. Others pull out a couple of bucks here or there, placing bets. Nearly everyone shot her a wink as they told Jo to put money on her.
When it came time to settle the bet they lined up next to the trucks, Shannon twisting her foot into the cut in the concrete that had served as the starting point for countless races her entire life. Races with her dad to the driver's seat when she was hardly older than a toddler. Races with Uncle Benny up the stairs because the first one to the kitchen got the first pancakes off the griddle in the morning. Races with Jo the second she was big enough to fit into any part of her aunt’s turnout gear.
She’d been borrowing them ever since. Though now she had her Aunt by an inch, as much as Jo hated to admit it. As Jo brought those same turnouts over and placed them next to Shannon’s back foot, she smiled, shooting her a wink.
It had been a while, but Shannon had been doing this kind of thing her whole life. She always tried to copy the drills she saw the guys do around the firehouse, having her boredom staved off by Jo teaching her how to roll hoses or her dad teaching her to breach a door or Uncle Benny with the SCBA or Uncle Eric with the firepole (much do her father’s disapproval), or any number of the firefighters with nothing better to do than indulge her. There was even a joke about how they weren’t sure who was the house dog, Junior or Lucky.
Though Shannon couldn’t remember a time she was called her actual name at the firehouse. “Mini Masters” was tossed around for a while even before “Junior” won out simply because it got more of a reaction out of Sean than anything else.
The fresh faced firefighter was grinning ear to ear. His cocky smirk told Shannon almost everything she needed to know about him as they toed the line getting ready to start. It was fairly typical of newer firefighters, that bravado they earned by running into burning buildings and walking through the other side more or less fine. It was always interesting to watch that dwindle as they went on more calls and it matured into a steadfast sort of confidence. It was something her father pointed out often in the new guys, something he called dangerous. But Shannon knew, there was no way on this green earth, that he was going to best her in one of these drill races. Not even with her being a little out of practice from being gone for a few months.
On her dad’s mark, the two sprinted down between the engines, touching another crack in the pavement before turning back toward the turnouts. Shannon slipped Jo’s on like it was second skin and was running back to the other end before the new guy even had his jacket on. She rolled out the hose in one swing, tossing it while making some of the older guys watching from the elevated walkway whistle. She didn’t even take the time to smirk before she was running again back down the length of the rolled out hose. She drops to a knee, sliding as she reaches the end of it, also earning a teasing scold from Jo about putting a hole in her bunker pants as she starts to wind the hose back up.
It was the hard, somewhat tedious part as she scooted along a little as she pulled the hose toward herself. Her forearms burn as she rolls it back up. Pull. Roll. Pull. Roll. Doing just what her dad told her to do - dust him.
The new guy’s jaw had nearly been unhinged as Shannon crossed the finish with the rolled hose before he had even made it halfway through his. The whooping and laughs that echoed through the garage as Shannon handed the hose back to Andy was something she had definitely missed hearing at Notre Dame. The camaraderie of it all, something she’d gotten glimpses of on the team during conditioning, but nothing compared to the way the approval of her heroes felt yet.
Shannon was ducking her head as she pulled the helmet off, tucking it under her arm as she undid the turnout coat with her other hand.
The width of the new guy’s eyes said everything his mouth wasn’t. “How did you–”
Shannon figured she should probably at least ask the guy his name, but she was a little too happy to feel at home again to care. “Practice,” She smiled, toothy and wide. That warm glint in her eye at the feeling of coming out on top. “Though I’m not sure practice will help you that much.” She teased, hanging up Jo’s gear back in its proper place, slipping her feet out of the boots and back into her shoes.
It was a little weird that he didn’t say anything else to her, but Shannon was a little bit too busy watching her dad play tug with Lucky to notice the gaping the new guy was doing. She stepped into her dad, trying to knock him a little bit off balance as she did. “You owe me two donuts for that one.”
“Do I, now? That wasn’t the deal.”
“Yep. Maybe even some of that candy from your office.”
“Shhhh, no donuts if you give away my secrets—”
“Hey, Andy!”
“Fine! Fine. Whatever you want,” He teased, standing up from Lucky again, both hands raised. “I didn’t know your Uncle Eric taught you the finer points of blackmail.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sean’s response was cut off by more loud razzing of the rookie continued loudly from the back of the truck. Andy even loudly proclaimed, “Junior! I think you broke our probie.”
But someone else called, “Na, I think he just fell in love.”
Roars of laughter almost covered up the indignant “shut up.” Though that only earned so much more laughter.
“Bug,” Her dad nudged her as he tossed Lucky’s Kong down the hallway. “It’s up to you, but I did tell him he could ask you out when he asked permission.”
“Oh, I mean…” Shannon drawed pretending her attention was being stolen from the way Lucky was sliding across the smooth concrete after his favorite rubber toy. She really only could dodge these kinds of things from her dad for so long, and frankly she was dreading the day her excuses would run short.
Sean stood slowly, brushing his palms on the front of his uniform pants as he did. “He’s a good kid. Cute too.”
“Ew, Daaad.” Shannon shoved her Dad’s shoulder as he righted himself, knocking him just slightly off balance. She might have been hard avoiding the dating thing, that was true, but she also super did not need her dad of all people trying to talk about boys with her. Especially not like that. “No. Uh uh. No. No no.”
Sean laughed at his daughter’s discomfort, he was her dad and Shannon had grown up a little quicker than he would have liked with it just being him and her for so long, but he loved that he still got to do this. The teasing. The rendering her practically speechless at his ‘dad-ness’. “I can be objective!”
“I don’t need you to set up dates for me.” Shannon’s ears were burning again as she wiped at her face more to hide it than anything else. God, he could be so embarrassing sometimes.
At least the rest of the firehouse was still distracted by their rookie’s failing at the drill to notice.
“I just want you to have fun. Be a kid!”
And there it was. That thing Sean and Jo were always trying to get Shannon to relax into, her more juvenile side even though it was a piece of herself she’d tried to shed as early as she could so he didn’t have to worry so much about her. “I’m focused on school and soccer right now. I don’t have time–”
“Fine, fine.” Sean waved her off as he took the slobbery Kong from Lucky’s mouth to toss it back down the hall. It was an argument he’d heard from Shannon too many times to count. One he asked Jo about more recently, just to check on his little girl to see that everything was actually okay. His friend only shrugged and patted him on the shoulder, reminding him that he was lucky not to have to beat sutors back with a firehose, or a halogen because Shannon was, in fact, a catch. “Break the kid’s heart.” Sean laughed as he squeezed his daughter’s shoulder, wishing she’d at least have some fun before she was a full blown adult. But Shannon didn’t want to hear it now, and he didn’t want their two day visit to be ruined with such trivial things so he walked away, whistling after Lucky to take him out for a bathroom break.
“He didn’t mean anything by that.”
“Ah! Jesus!” Jo popped up next to Shannon as Sean walked away. Shannon jumped a little. God Shannon swore Jo was like a ghost that way. She might as well have shouted ‘boo!’
“You can talk to him, you know?” Jo’s voice dropped low, the edges of the constants falling far softer than her usual tone, almost pleading with Shannon to let her dad in for this struggle too. Sean loved her, and nothing, not even this, especially not this, would ever change that. Shannon had to know that.
“Jo–” Shannon shook her head, eyes wide, pleading with her aunt not to say anything more. Not here so public. Not with her dad only a few paces down the hall grinning at them as he clipped Lucky’s leash to his collar.
“You want to talk some more?” Shannon nodded blush returning high on her ears. She really did hate that sensation, it always gave her away. Even when she was little. She remembered a few times trying to cover her ears as she approached Jo or her dad with something, not quite realizing in her kid brain that it was just as obvious. “Roof?” Jo suggested, the quiet place out away from all the man-ears, she so often liked to joke with Shannon about.
Shannon nodded again at the suggestion. The conversation she had been trying not to think too much about felt like it was going to burn a hole in her tongue if she didn’t get some help wit hit. She was out of her depth and hated hiding it from her dad. But Shannon was sure of one thing, Jo would know what to do, or how to help, and she wanted that far sooner than later. Certainly before her dad came back with Lucky.
“Head up, I'll bring you a beer.” Jo smiled easily tilting her head in the direction of the stairs. It wasn’t like the roof was exactly a legal lounging spot but that didn’t stop them from having a few chairs set up there just to see the sky or enjoy the quiet between hectic calls.
“Dad said just one–” Shannon protested, always one for the rules, well the rules her dad set.
Aunt Jo chuckled, shaking her head. She didn’t know where this goody-two-shoes streak came from. Not from her, and certainly not from Sean. If anything, she and Sean tried to get her a little more stepping out of her comfort zone to have a little fun. “Another one isn’t gonna kill you.”
With the rest of the crew busy giving the probie drill tips, slipping up to the roof discretely was easy. Jo was already there, hitting the bottle cap off Shannon’s beer using the brick edge and extending it to her kid, she would be joining Shannon if it weren’t for her being mid shift. Maybe tomorrow. “Talk to me, Mija.”
It was a lot too soft for anything Auntie Jo should be saying to Shannon. Soft wasn’t really Jo’s style. Maybe they shouldn’t be having this conversation after all. At least Shannon was starting to have serious doubts about it as she looked into the top of her beer pondering why it was she was so eager to talk about this a few minutes ago down in the garage.
Shannon took a deep breath as she swirled the cool bottle around her hand still watching the top of the bottle. She was scared, of what she might say, of what Jo might think, of what might come of this conversation. But scared was one thing Shannon knew what to do with. She was a Masters, and it was one of the first lessons she remembered her dad teaching her… Masters did things, even when they were scared. Especially when they were scared.
Shannon shook her head a little bit, trying to get her thoughts to fall into place, trying to shake out the remaining apprehension as she took a small sip of the beer letting the carbonation fizzle out in her mouth before she swallowed. “I… I chickened out. With Steph, the basketball player.”
And maybe that’s why she didn’t want to admit it to Jo either. Shannon, for all her bravery or all she tried to be, she’d let the scared part of her win out and ultimately hurt someone else because of it.
“She was that good-looking, huh?" Jo leaned back against the raised edge of the roof, smiling easily at Shannon. Humor always was an easier approach with the Kid. Pulled her out of her shell just a little bit. Jo always chalked it up to her being Sean’s kid, the most un-serious person she’d ever met.
"No– I mean– she was, IS, but– I– ugh. I don’t know." Shannon dropped her head, placing the bottle on the edge of the roof next to where Jo was leaning as she leaned her elbows there to look out toward the city’s towering buildings. Words weren’t often a problem for her, or, well sometimes they could be. She was raised to collect her thoughts and speak clearly because words mean things, but thinking about this, Steph, words were a lot harder than she hoped when she’d asked for this conversation.
A fumbling Shannon wasn’t something Jo was used to either. It was still a little surprising, if not amusing to see Shannon rendered a little bit incapable of articulating her thoughts by apparently a very pretty girl. Though Jo had a feeling it was the girl part that wasn’t making this any easier on Shannon, so she took pity on her a little bit and shifted from her natural teasing to place a gentle hand on her kid’s forearm. She gave it a warm squeeze hoping that it told Shannon everything her words might fail in doing right now, that she had her, and that it was okay, she was okay.
Shannon had to fight every instinct to look atway from her aunt at the softness behind the gesture. Though she settled instead for scratching her nail at the edges of the label on the beer bottle that had started to grow soggy with condensation. A simple enough distraction while Jo’s hand remained on her forearm, waiting, giving space where Shannon needed it and support where she didn’t.
Sometimes Shannon wondered how someone that wasn’t related to her, someone who held no actual responsibility for her wellbeing cared so much. Or how Jo, a hard, fierce woman, was everything Shannon always needed in a mother that wasn’t there. It hadn’t changed, not even now as Shannon pushed the anxiety clawing its way up her chest back down far enough to let the words out. “I’m not... I mean, I'm not sure if..." She started to trail off, still not sure exactly what she wanted to say before she settled on maybe the most obvious thing, or the biggest obstacle to the problem, because as cliche as it was, it wasn’t Steph… it was Shannon that had the problem. "We're Catholic."
And they were. She was raised Catholic, Irish or Roman depending on which of her parental figures were talking. Mass every Sunday, First Communion, Confirmation, and all that. Preachers. Nuns. Cardinals that would visit Horace Mann. Shannon didn’t consider herself to be particularly devout but she was nothing if not a rule follower. And well, that was against the rules as she understood them.
The Church provided guidance and structure all her life. The few times she couldn't turn to either Jo or her Dad, there was confession. And there was something quietly beautiful, something she could relate to, something comforting about a heavenly father that cared. That watched out for you. Because it wasn’t so far of a stretch in having an actual father who did all of that for God to do that and more.
So she'd gone to Catholic school her entire life. Half the reason she chose Notre Dame was because of its Irish and Catholic ties. That and it being one of the best schools in the country and her dad’s insistence on her getting the best education she could possibly squeeze out of being good at sports—and it wasn’t all the way in California like Stanford was.
"We are," confirmed Jo with a nod as she turned to square her shoulders with Shannon. There wouldn’t be any hiding for this conversation. There was no room for shame here, not between the two of them, not even for this. Especially not for this. Jo simply wouldn’t let Shannon twist herself away from her family. Not when she was so loved, and would be so accepted, no matter what. "But you know,” She kept her voice soft, quiet to match the evening where the stars somehow seemed so loud with the city’s soundtrack muffled in the distance. “I'm pretty sure the point of faith isn't following rules.” She leaned a little into Shannon, a simple nudge in the right direction, the loving direction.
“Isn’t it?” Shannon’s eyes felt wet as she looked up from the destroyed white adhesive stubbornly clinging to the beer bottle as she set it aside, no longer wanting that fidget tool to give her away. Hiding behind it somehow made her feel impossibly more vulnerable than facing her Aunt.
Her dad was Catholic, and incredibly proud of it. It was their heritage and Shannon didn’t… She didn’t…
“No, Mija.” If Shannon wasn’t so focused on keeping those tears from rolling down her cheeks she might have been more aware of the crackling of thick emotion in Jo’s voice as she shook her head taking another step closer to Shannon. “The point of faith is love.”