‘Admittedly it was a fairly modest goal butholy shit, Sweeney!’
Holy shit indeed. Sweeney’s posts from her grid often went viral thanks to her three hundred thousand followers, butnoneof her stories had ever made such a splash.
‘How many impressions?’
‘Well, I obviously can’t see your stats, but the Banshees post has close to forty thousand likes and been shared almost a thousand times.’
Bloody hell. ‘Are you shitting me right now?’ Sweeney put the phone on speaker and navigated to her Insta stories. ‘Did Donny put you up to this?’
‘What’s Donny done?’ Fin asked, standing in her doorway all sleep rumpled.
Sweeney wasn’t sure if the audible ring on her phone had disturbed him or if he could hear Mai screaming from all the way in his room. Considering they’d no doubt heard her in Perth, it was probably the latter.
‘Would I shit you about this?’ Mai’s indignant tone echoed around the room.
Tapping on the stats for the story, Sweeney was gobsmacked to see it had almost double the likes Mai mentioned.
‘What’s happened?’ Fin demanded.
‘The photo—yourphoto—went viral overnight. Donations have flooded in and the GoFundMe page has now surpassed its goal.’
Mai, clearly not worried that Sweeney and Fin were talking, kept prattling in her ear, her excited chatter emanating from the phone in bouncy sound waves.
‘The DMs arefloodedwith media requests. From radio and newspapers and television. The ABC wants to send a news crew to talk with you guys at training on Monday afternoon. The Aaa, Bee, freakingCee,’ Mai emphasised.
It was Fin’s turn to what.‘What?’
‘There’s even a message from that Stephen Colbert guy, but I think that’s just one of those creepy old dudes trying to get me to take pictures of my boobs. Or a bot. Definitely fake, anyway.’
Sweeney caught Fin’s gaze. Fake.Just like them.
‘We can’t thank you enough, Sweeney,’ Mai said. ‘For taking those photos and sharing last night’s one to your stories. We’ll be able to invest in new jerseys for all the kids now and freeze membership fees for a while, which should really help ease the cost burden on families. And fix up some things around the grounds and the club house that have been neglected since everyone lost their jobs in Covid and then inflation went crazy. We could maybe even make some headway on that second field Michael always wanted to do.’
Still looking at Fin, Sweeney nodded. For as long as she could remember, a second field had been Michael’s big dream. But, as he was fond of saying,If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.And they’d made do with the one.
‘Of course,’ she said when she realised Mai had drawn breath and it was her turn to talk. ‘I’m just happy it worked out so well.’
‘Oh, is it wrong of me to hope that volcano I’ve never heard of keeps erupting? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could stay for a few weeks? You could go to the Gold Coast as our official photographer. Hell—’ Mai laughed. ‘We could pay you now. Donny and I will be there. The four of us could go out to dinner together at some posh place on the beach. It’d be so much fun.’
Sweeney didn’t ask how Mai knew about the volcano.She’donly known about it and its ramifications for her travel plans for twelve hours and hadn’t told anyone but Fin. And, of course,the mothersknew. No doubt Rhonda had told her sister and so it had gone on, spreading like wildfire through the family tree thanks to the WhatsApp group. And, because Donny clearly knew, too, so would all of Ballyshannon by day’s end.
‘Um,’ Sweeney said as Fin threw her awhat thelook.
She shrugged. Like she knew what wacky shit married couples thought was a good time. Did Mai seriously think the four of them were going to get matchingMurphy Timeshirts and double date their way through the Gold Coast?
‘That… does sound… fun,’ Sweeney said slowly.
Fin cocked an eyebrow at her blatant lie and mimed her nose growing. He was lingering in the doorway with his shoulder shoved into the jamb. It was such a casually virile pose for a guy who didn’t have the typical attributes she associated with virility.
Casual or otherwise.
No super bulgy muscles. No linebacker shoulders. No thick chest hair peeping out the top of his shirt. None of the blatant machismo she’d seen aplenty on gym bros the one day a year she generally tortured herself with an exercise regime.
Yes, it was January 1st.
And yet, suddenly her body was very aware of his. How tall he was, how sexy-spiky his whiskers had felt when he’d kissed her a week ago today, the smile playing on lips that knew how to draw a weird sound from the back of her throat, the thick fall of his hair and the way his shirt sat soft against his abs. But more than that was his confidence. The way he lounged like that, so sure of himself. The way he walked through the world now. Not with the swagger of a conqueror but as though he was finally comfortable in his own skin.
Hell, if that wasn’t the most fascinating thing of all. It was just plain befuddling.
