Ian (O'Connor Brothers #1)

by A. S. Kelly

  My body pushes against his instinctively. He lets go of my hair and brushes it back over my shoulder.

  “But I don’t want you to think that’s the only reason I’m here. I want you, Riley. All of you. Just for me.”

  “I-I don’t know what I think,” I stutter.

  “Don’t pretend with me. Don’t hide what you’re feeling.”

  “It’s not that simple,” I say, as he shakes his head. “I learned how to fake things years ago, I had to. It was the only way to get through those days.”

  “What does that mean?” he asks me wrinkling his forehead.

  “I understood that I had to pretend. Always. Pretend I was fine, pretend to be intact even if I was broken inside because no one wants anything to do with half a person. No one wants to see what you really are. The truth is scary. Pain is scary.”

  “I’m not afraid of your pain, Riley. I’m not scared of seeing your demons. I’m ready to face them and defeat them with my bare hands. I want to be clear with you about that, I don’t want you to have any doubts about it.”

  “It’s not easy for me to believe you,” I tell him truthfully.

  “I know, but I’m asking you to try. Try putting some trust in me.”

  Seeing Ian O’Connor standing at the door of my house, in all his charm and determination, with that body calling to me, with his sweet sexy smile and the sincerity of his words: I have no choice but to believe him.

  “I’d like that,” I say, smiling at him.

  He smiles too, then gets serious again. “I’m trying, Riley. To go slowly, to respect your space. To do what’s best for you, believe me. But what more can I do if I believe that I’m the best thing for you?”

  He looks at me intensely and my heart melts at his feet.

  “It’s damn difficult.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He sighs in frustration. “It’s okay like this. For now.”

  “I should go in now.”

  “Yeah. I have to go too. I’ve got training tomorrow morning.”

  “Goodnight then, Ian.”

  “Goodnight, Riley.”

  I close the door and rest my back against it.

  I hear him start the engine and drive away, and I try to slow down my breathing.

  I go in the kitchen, take off my jacket and put down my bag on a chair. I open the fridge and grab a bottle of wine. I let the cold glass sit in my hands for a moment before putting it back, deciding to make myself a cup of tea instead.

  I bring the mug through to my room and set it on my nightstand. I get undressed slowly, put on my trackies and sit with my legs crossed, hugging the mug between my hands.

  The house is silent, the street outside quiet. I don’t hear any noise, but I can’t let myself be swallowed by the emptiness.

  I don’t feel pain. I don’t feel the need to pretend, to smile if I don’t feel like smiling or to think about what to say or do.

  I’m me, with all of my chaos, but with my mind firmly set in the present, standing tall, with a heart that’s ready to start beating again.

  50

  Ian

  I pull into my driveway and park my bike. I walk into my living room and almost have a heart attack on finding Nick on my sofa.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He shakes the sleep off and sits up.

  “Hey, where you been?”

  “What?”

  “I waited for you all night.”

  “I didn’t know I was supposed to keep you updated on where I am at all times. What are you doing in my house?”

  “I stole the keys from Ryan.”

  “I see you two keep picking on each other – do I need to ground you both?”

  “I just needed a bit of peace. And you still haven’t found me a place to stay.”

  “So it’s my fault.”

  “You’re the one who made us come back.”

  I go to the kitchen and put the kettle on to make myself a cup of tea, even if what this situation really calls for is one of those relaxing brews that Mum used to drink before going to bed. My nerves are already wound up and my body is on high alert after having been with Riley. Of course what I really needed tonight was Nick.

  “So, what are you going to do?” I ask, turning towards him.

  He ruffles up his hair. “I don’t know.”

  “What about the team?”

  “They don’t need me for now.”

  “You out too?”

  “Not exactly. Let’s just say they’ve given me some time.”

  “Some time.”

  “To do what I need to do.”

  “You giving up with this whole dumb modelling thing?”

  “What should I do, Ian?”

  “Play the game. You weren’t bad.”

  He forces a laugh and comes to sit at the kitchen counter opposite me. He steals my mug and takes a few sips, wrinkling his nose.

  “Haven’t you got anything stronger than this?”

  “I have training tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Want to come with me? I don’t think coach would mind.”

  “I don’t know, it would be kind of awkward.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt. You’re getting a little chubby.”

  He looks at himself a minute and then goes back to drinking my tea. Why the hell is he drinking it if it’s so damn disgusting?

  “I don’t think I need to, by this point.”

  “You’re not going to play again?”

  “I’m thirty-two, Ian.”

  “That’s only two years older than me.”

  “And I’ve been out of the loop for a while now.”

  “You also still have a contract.”

  “A pro forma contract.”

  “Got it.”

  “I had to.”

  “You had other choices.”

  “Not after someone decided to steal my place on the team.”

  “Nick, come on…”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll knock it off.”

  “How’s Ryan doing?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “Because he doesn’t talk about himself. He’s an O’Connor.”

  “He’s terrible. Worse off now than when he left.”

  I run my hand roughly through my hair. Why does nothing ever go right around here?

  “How about you?”

  “Huh?”

  “How are you?”

  “That’s none of your fucking business.”

  He shakes his head. “You’re an O’Connor too.”

  I really wish that were true.

  Fifteen years earlier

  “Here,” Karen shows me to a bedroom. “This is Ryan’s room.”

  I look around suspiciously. It’s the room of a child that wants to show the world he’s already a man. Posters of rock bands on one wall and muscular rugby players on the other. This guy still hasn’t figured out which side he prefers.

  “Ryan, say hello to Ian,” she prompts gently as he lifts his hand in a small wave. “We’ve got an extra bed here. Nick and Ryan used to share a room before Nick moved to the other room above the garage. You know how it works, everyone wants their own space.”

  I don’t know how it works. I didn’t even have a room. I practically lived on the sofa. Our apartment had one bedroom and it belonged to my mother.

  “At the end of the hallway, there’s a bathroom. You’ll find clean towels if you’d like to have a shower,” she adds kindly. “And then,” she hands me some clothes. “These are Nick’s, they might be a bit big for you, but for tonight they’ll do.”

  I nod in embarrassment.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to make you something to eat. What would you like?”

  I look at her, completely baffled, taken aback by all the attention she’s giving me.

  “I don’t know, eggs and bacon, or pasta, or maybe some meat?”

  I have to hold back the knot that is trying to choke
me. “Anything is okay.”

  “Oh, okay,” she comments uncomfortably. “Okay then, I’m off. When you’re ready, just head downstairs, I’ll be waiting. Take your time and if you need anything, ask Ryan.”

  She turns to leave the room.

  “Thanks,” I say through clenched teeth.

  She looks at me and smiles.

  She is smiling. Honestly.

  A mother who smiles. I thought they were a myth. She leaves me alone with this little kid, who’s sitting on his bed with a worried look on his face and a very straight back. He looked like someone who wanted to scream ‘What the hell are you doing in my house?’ or ‘How come I have to share my bedroom with you?’

  I turn towards him as he looks me over, head to toe. I’m wearing jeans that are caked in mud and water, a hoodie and old beat-up trainers that have definitely done some damage to Mrs. O’Connor’s carpet.

  “So,” he says, lifting his head. “You’re staying here.”

  “Just for tonight,” I say flatly.

  “Yeah, right,” he says raising an eyebrow. “You’re not a psychopath, are you? You’re not going to cut me up with a chainsaw tonight?”

  I burst out laughing. “I don’t have a chainsaw with me,” I say, winding him up, but he doesn’t appreciate my sense of humor.

  “Well, I sleep with the light on.”

  He wants to be a tough guy but his red cheeks betray his embarrassment.

  I’m weighed down by a wave of tenderness. “No problem,” I say, shrugging.

  “Better to be clear about it.”

  I nod.

  “Go have your shower,” he says, nodding towards the bathroom door. “You really need one.”

  I leave the room and walk down the hall, scrutinizing the doors, trying to work out which one is the bathroom.

  “It’s the last one on the right,” Ryan says from behind me, his arms crossed. “And you can use my shampoo,” he continues in a whisper. “It’s the green bottle. Don’t use Nick’s, whatever you do. He’ll make you drink it for breakfast.”

  In that moment, in the bathroom doorway of a house full of strangers, surrounded by kind people who act the way they do purely because they want to, I don’t know if I should cry, laugh or thank God that I’ve got another shot at living.

  51

  Riley

  “Riley?” Ray pops his head into my office with a smile that goes from one side of his face to the other and a smirk in his eyes. “There’s someone here for you.”

  “For me?” I stand up and join him at the door, where the sight of his shoulders fills up my eyes in an instant.

  “Do you have something to tell me?”

  “Not now.”

  “I don’t know if I can wait. Maybe I should just ask him.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I growl through my teeth.

  Ray smiles broadly before turning his attention back to Ian. I hear him say that I’ll be right there and then he pretends to disappear behind a column.

  God, he’s so obvious.

  I try to compose myself, pulling the pen out from behind my ear and letting my hair fall freely on my shoulders before taking a breath and walking over to him.

  “Hi,” I say, shyly.

  He flashes me a sexy smile that almost makes me fall at his feet.

  “Good morning.”

  All he said was ‘good morning’ and I’m ready to jump in his arms.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I stopped by?”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He hands me a paper bag.

  “I got you some blueberry muffins.”

  “Thank you. Do you want to come into my office?”

  “I’m just passing by, I’m on my way to UCD.”

  “Okay,” I reply, disappointed.

  “We’re playing tomorrow,” he says with an overly-false distracted air. “It’s an important game, it’s a Champions Cup qualifier.”

  “Yeah, Jamie told me about it on the phone. He wasn’t thrilled to be on the bench for this one.”

  “I bet.”

  “But the wait’s almost over, right?”

  “He’ll be playing again soon.”

  “And he’ll go back to being the captain?”

  “No one deserves it more than him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For your support, for being his friend.”

  “What can I do? I love that arsehole.”

  I laugh, shaking my head.

  “I know that the last time you were at the stadium it was a bit strange.”

  “I was terrified,” I say honestly, and he rewards me with a broad smile.

  “But I’d love to have you there,” he says, full of confidence. His eyes lock onto mine, leaving me breathless. “If you’d like to, or if you don’t already have plans.”

  “Really?”

  “What?”

  “You really want me to be there?”

  He takes a deep breath. “I want you there,” he says with a tone that is both full of confidence and begging me at the same time.

  “VIP seating?” I ask, biting my lip.

  He stares at my mouth intensely and my body flushes with an unbearable heat.

  “Your name is written on that seat, Riley. It’s just waiting to be filled.”

  And I don’t know why, but my heart comes alive with the idea that he’s not referring just to a seat in a stadium.

  52

  Ian

  I take a deep breath before stepping out onto the field. Today we’re facing an important match: the Champions Cup qualifier, where the national coach will be making his requests for the player’s roster. I’m not overflowing with hope, I realise I’m getting a bit too old to play, but the dream of seeing my own name on a national jersey never dies.

  Today is a day that could have my name written down in the history books and for the occasion, I wanted my whole family to be there, dickhead brothers included.

  I wanted her there too.

  We huddle up before the first whistle to keep morale high and to plan our tactics. The guys are hyped up and ready to go, but no one is quite as worked up as me.

  I’ve never had anyone there for me in the stands, someone who was really cheering for me, someone who would jump for joy with my every tackle, burst with pride at all of my accomplishments.

  Of course, my family has always cheered me on, but now someone’s doing it from the heart just because they want to, and not because they had to drive me to training as a kid.

  We take to the field and the first thing I do is to look up at the reserved seating, where I know she’ll be, because that’s her place and no one else will ever sit their arse down there.

  When I find her, I smile like an idiot, impaled in the middle of the field. When she stands up and makes a small gesture with her hand, my whole world stops, waiting for my heart to start up again.

  How the hell did I come this far without her?

  How could I think that what I had before would be enough, that I could go on as I was, without love, that I could get by just on sport, the team and my family.

  How could I have been such an idiot?

  “Hey,” Jamie says jumping on my back and he’s lucky I don’t slam him to the ground. “We’ve got an audience today.”

  “The stadium’s packed.”

  He laughs and hops off my back.

  “The stadium…?”

  “Fuck off, Jamie!”

  “I like it,” he says in my ear.

  “Huh?”

  “I like how you are when you’re with her,” he pats me on the arse. “And I like what she is when she’s with you, even if you’re not my idea of the perfect man.”

  “It’s enough for me to be her kind of man.” I say in all seriousness.

  “Wow, it sure took you long enough,” Jamie waves his arms in the air before going back to the bench.

  He’s getting back into training but hasn’t yet set foot on the f
ield. I know how much it pains him to still be sat on the bench and not be able to participate, but he needs to get better to start playing again and avoid any further injury.

  I look back once more at the reserved seating section before meeting up with the other guys in the middle of the field. A few seats down from Riley, I see my favorite pair of arseholes, my mum and dad sitting between them.

  They’re all here for me. All the people I love. All the people I owe my life to. The ones who haven’t abandoned me, that have supported me, raised me, fed me and loved me.

  The only thing I want to do is make them all proud of me, because they deserve it. It can’t be easy taking a hurt, angry young man with no future into your house and giving him a life, a bit of hope and the will to go on.

  It’s not easy at all. Just about anyone would fail in their attempt, but they did it.

  The O’Connors did it.

  I couldn’t be prouder or more honoured to wear their name on my back.

  When I hear my name called over the loudspeaker, along with my number and my image on the big screen, I raise an arm, waving to the crowd as my way of saying: yes, I’m a damn O’Connor, and now I’m going to tear you apart on this field.

  53

  Riley

  This time, I came alone. I didn’t even ask Ray to come with me. I took the afternoon off; Ian wants me here and I’m happy to do it.

  I sit in my assigned seat, two spots down from a man in a Leinster jersey, complete with matching hat and scarf. As he turns his shoulders, I see the name O’Connor on the back. I’m overwhelmed with a sense of pride.

  Is it right for me to feel this way? To feel connected to him somehow?

  I decide not to interrogate myself too much today, to just enjoy the game, Ian and his muscular legs running ceaselessly up and down the field. He seems so fit, strong and determined that I do feel proud to be here cheering him on.