Hail Mary (The Mavericks Series)

by Julianna Marley

  Shit.

  She was right.

  “Here,” Whitney chuckled, fiddling with another doll. “If she’s going to meet her Prince Charming than she should wear these shoes.” Cassidy’s face lighting up, he felt like he was watching Quinn’s future. And she was a lucky little girl. Whitney was warm and kind and even just dressing a doll had the power to ignite a little girl’s face into pure joy.

  “Screw Prince Charming,” he scoffed, earning him a look from Whitney. “I mean, forget, Prince Charming,” he corrected. “She needs to give G.I. Joe a chance.”

  “No, Uncle Shay, she’s going out with Prince Charming Ken,” Cassidy ordered, pushing a doll car in front of him handing Whitney another Barbie. “And Miss Whitney is Barbie.”

  Last time he checked Barbie looked like a high fashion sinner. Not a southern belle with a cussing policy and a mouth dangerous enough to bring a grown man to his knees.

  “But I think Miss Whitney is prettier than Barbie,” Cassidy declared and Whitney’s mouth curved into a shy smile, smoothing out Cassidy’s curls.

  “Yes,” he agreed as Whitney blinked across Cassidy’s head at him, her smile slipping. “Yes she is.”

  “Traditionally the meat, fish and salad fork work their way out from the left side of the dinner plate,” Whitney explained to Holly as they set the dining room table for dinner. Her mandatory junior league classes growing up had only taught her how to set a customary formal place setting. Not that she had anyone to practice on, but using Fiona’s silver and fine crystal now, she was excited to set a table the way she had always dreamed of.

  “It’s beautiful,” Holly gushed, following her lead with the cutlery. “And confusing. Very confusing.”

  She hadn’t meant to take over, but the moment Fiona asked for help setting the dining room table she had taken the opportunity. Shay was clouding her head and they were dancing around each other and she needed a break. Playing dolls with Cassidy, she felt her body react to him calling her beautiful. Men didn’t call her beautiful. Not gorgeous or sexy either. They called her cute. Yet, when Shay said it, she felt it. Like he wasn’t referring to his best friend’s little sister or something. He meant it. Which was so silly, really. How many women did he say that to on any given day? It seemed the domesticity of the day was starting to get to both of them.

  “Honey I’m home!”

  Jumping, at a loud bellow right before the front door slammed shut, she looked across the table at Holly. A throaty, booming voice thick with an accent echoed inside the house; not an easy feat over the kids screaming.

  Oh please, not another brother.

  Shrugging sweetly, Holly smiled placing down another fork. “Uncle Tommy.”

  Seeing a tall man saunter across the kitchen, his black boots clunked across the floor. Yelling something that she couldn’t make out, Patrick came into the kitchen as the men got close yelling and laughing at each other before hugging. Kissing him on the cheek, Patrick smacked the man hard, both men laughing.

  “Fi!” the man yelled, turning around and looking just like Patrick. A deep scar running across his cheek, the only notable difference. Removing his sunglasses, he didn’t dress like the rest of the clan. More as if he was a part of some kind of motorcycle gang instead of some loud, football lovin’, child producing family. “I smelled ye cookin’ all the way down in the valley.” Giving Fiona a hug, he took a pint of beer from Patrick as Cian and Rory came into the kitchen giving out handshakes and back slapping hugs.

  “Hello, Uncle Tommy,” Holly said quietly as the man approached them and Whitney braced herself.

  “Ah, darlin’,” he hugged Holly. “Ye get more beautiful every time I see ya. And who is this little lady?” he asked, looking down at her as she clenched Fiona’s cloth napkins against her chest. The man was big. And loud. And scary looking.

  “Oh, this is our Whitney,” Fiona smiled, wiping her hands on her apron.

  Our Whitney.

  “Shay brought her home to share the holiday with us,” Fiona said, taking her arm. Smiling, she rubbed Fiona’s hand. This woman was so warm and so welcoming and she didn’t know what she did to deserve her favor, but she was so incredibly grateful for it. And in some small way, she felt like she fit here.

  “Pretty as a picture aren’t ya?” Tommy squinted looking back at her. Without warning he wrapped her into a hug, nearly lifting her off her toes. His stiff, worn leather jacket crunched around her as the smell of cigarette smoke filled her nose before finally placing her back on her feet.

  “Oh,” she blurted nervously, tidying herself up from his large hug. “Well, aren’t you kind.”

  “So baby fucking boy is home, eh?” he yelled, picking up his glass. Taking a sip, he gave her a wink before charting off with Patrick and Finn. He was certainly a character and also a frightening man, but in some peculiar way, he looked like he fit in.

  “The day I met my Patrick,” Fiona shook her head resting her hands on her small hips, “I just knew it was a package deal,” she giggled staring off at Tommy and Patrick laughing at each other in the living room. Watching Shay walk into the room, Uncle Tommy let out another loud cheer nearly taking Shay down in a head grip and she wanted to laugh. Seeing Shay smile for the first time since they arrived to his parents, her heart tripped. His grin reaching his eyes, he slapped hands with Tommy and she realized that the only thing more dangerous than being under the same roof as Shay, was being under the same roof with that devastating smile on his face.

  Sliding the door open, Shay walked outside filling his lungs with the late afternoon air. He needed to get out of the house. Needed to breathe. Watching Whitney bend down every thirty minutes to check on the turkey was driving him absolutely nuts. She was right when she accused him of bringing her here to deflect his absence from his family, but when she had looked at him with those big round eyes trying to act nonchalant about not having any place to spend the holidays, he knew it was a win-win. But now watching her cook with his mother and laughing alongside his sister-in-laws, it was all feeling too domestic.

  But he wasn’t hating it.

  Which was a problem.

  A big fucking problem.

  There was no room for any of that shit in his life. Not now. And most likely, not ever. He was on a winning streak, the hottest of his career and in the middle of a contract year nonetheless. He needed to solidify his future with the Mavericks and continue breaking records inside the league while he still could. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else could matter.

  “Eh, baby boy.” Uncle Tommy’s boots stomped up the side of the deck, shaking it a bit, his large frame standing easily a head taller than Shay.

  “Yo,” Shay jerked his head, leaning against the railing taking in the rigid mountains spreading out towards the clouds.

  “Sweet little thing ya trucked all the way up from the South, eh,” Tommy smirked, pinning the tip of a cigarette between his lips.

  “Who Whitney?”

  Chuckling, Tommy cupped the bud before lighting the cigarette, inhaling. “Why is there more than one lady you brought home, mate?”

  Right.

  Digging his fingers into the top of the deck railing, he shook his head. “Whitney is just a friend.”

  Letting out a puff of smoke mixing with the cold air coming from their mouths, Tommy chuckled. “A woman that looks like that in the kitchen with your mama, ain’t ever just a friend, baby boy.”

  Here we go again.

  “No.”

  Laughing quietly, Tommy cupped his shoulder. “You’ll learn.”

  Curling his fingers into the railing harder, he should have known that no good would come of bringing her home. She was sweet, not a ball buster like Erin. She was kind and polite, not a pain in the ass like Siobhan. He wasn’t surprised at all that his parents took to her so quickly, especially his mother. He should have used his head.

  “So what kept ya away for so long?” Uncle Tommy broke the silence flicking his cigarette over the railing.
<
br />   “Just busy,” he shrugged, feeling like a damn teenager.

  “Too busy to visit your parents?” Tommy lifted a brow clearly not buying his bullshit. His parents had been so busy when they were growing up, working tirelessly around the clock and taking care of four boys that Tommy had been around most nights lending a hand nearly every day. He was more than an uncle. He was like another father. “We both know damn well why you haven’t been home,” Tommy accused, staring out at the same scene and they were both quiet a moment. “Was it any use?” he asked again and Shay shook his head. Not much had changed around here since he had been gone other than his nieces and nephews growing up and Rory’s hatred for him seeming to follow suit.

  “Ya gotta move on, boy. Ya both gotta get past this. It’s ancient history now and quite frankly,” Tommy raised his voice, shaking his head, “it’s horse shit.”

  Yeah. But the problem was, it didn’t feel like ancient history. And every time he looked at Rory, it felt as if he was reliving that summer of hell all over again.

  “Uncle Shay, it’s time for the football game!” Nicky yelled from the yard below them, throwing the football in the air before catching it as Cian and his dad started filling the yard.

  He didn’t know how to fix things with Rory and even less about why Whitney was getting to him, but he did know that he was ready to kick some ass in some rough touch football.

  “You ready for me, beautiful?” Shay smirked getting down into a three-point stance, looking back at Cian. Although the same height, his oldest brother was broader than him, but speed had never been Cian’s strength.

  “Bring it, baby boy,” Cian spit. “Even you can’t put your pitiful team up on the scoreboard.”

  “Looks like getting down is causing you some problems these days, old man.”

  “Yeah, you’ll see just how much you little shit.”

  The annual Cunningham Thanksgiving football game was as deep as traditions ran in their family. He remembered being younger than Nicky and nearly salivating to play his first game after years of watching his father, Uncle Tommy and his brothers play. The game had become more extreme and nastier as they all grew up- just how they liked it.

  “Blue forty-two, hut,” his father called out as Cian bulldozed towards him. Diving underneath his arm, Shay went wide for his father’s sissy pass, the ball missing him completely.

  “Pops!” he yelled, throwing up his arms. “What the hell was that?”

  Slapping hands and laughing, Cian and Rory switched places, sweat already forming on their faces. He was trying to carry his team and was failing miserably. Not only were the numbers odd, but he had somehow ended up with only his Pops with his bad back and all sixty pounds of Nicky to work with. “Nicky,” Shay called out bringing him into the huddle. “Listen, Finn is going to go with his standard fake hand off. You have got to go low for Tommy’s legs, got that? Pops, you go wide and I’ll block Rory.” He wanted to laugh at the seriousness on Nicky’s face as they lined up again, Rory staring back at him.

  “Blue thirty-two!” Finn called out, faking the hand off just like Shay knew he would. Blocking Rory, his brother dipped low and he let him go before he caught Finn’s pass for a touchdown.

  Son of a bitch.

  “Don’t fucking take it easy on me, Hollywood,” Rory yelled, throwing down the ball and limping towards him.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shay wiped the sweat from his cheek onto his shoulder as Rory got up in his face.

  “I can handle whatever you dish out, baby boy. You just remember that.”

  Shaking him off, Shay reached around grabbing Nicky’s shoulder. They were down 3-0 and he didn’t have much to work with, but he wasn’t losing this game. He had some lost time to make up for. “Listen Pops, throw it to me and Nicky you meet me at four yards for a hand off, got it?”

  “Yeah,” Nicky agreed. “I got you.”

  “Pops, don’t screw this up!” Shay pleaded, walking away. “Please.”

  “Ay, I’m throwing it and you’re running arseways,” his father yelled at him before lining up again. He loved his pops, he did, but maybe it was time for him to bow out gracefully and handle the whistle from now on. Getting down low he glanced up at Rory who looked ready to kill.

  Fucking great.

  The guy was as strong as a truck, a destructive combination when paired with the sheer hatred he held for him. Yeah, he really needed to watch his damn legs today. But then again, he doubted Rory watched any of his games anyways so maybe he would underestimate him, at least he hoped.

  “Blue thirty-two,” his pops called out and he dipped around Rory, who nearly ripped off his shirt before pushing him. Going up he caught a pass from his father while Nicky ran around Tommy, making a beeline for him and he handed off the ball before running Nicky over the goal line.

  Finally.

  High fiving, he and Nicky did the victory dance he had taught him earlier as Cian clapped for his son. Laughing, he felt a strong shove from behind knocking him down to the ground.

  What the fuck?

  Grabbing his shoulder he looked up at Rory before shooting back up to his feet, getting into Rory’s face. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

  “I told you to stop taking it easy on me.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Shay yelled, backing away slowly. It wasn’t worth it. Rory was always looking for a fight and he was tired of it. He couldn’t do anything right. Could never say the right thing or make up for what happened to them. Pushing him again, Shay tripped up nearly falling on his ass again. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

  “What the fuck’s wrong with me?” Rory seethed, inches of his face. “You. Ya selfish bastard.”

  Grinding his teeth, Shay stared back at his brother and he knew they weren’t talking about football anymore. Shaking his head he took a step back. Giving him another strong push, Shay threw down the ball lunging before Rory’s fist connected with his jaw.

  Yea. That’s gonna leave a mark.

  Ripping him down onto the ground by his shirt, he punched Rory in the gut before his brother went for his head.

  “Hey! Hey! Hey!” he heard his brothers yell while his mother screamed. Grabbing a fistful of Rory’s hair, he tried to angle him to clock him before he got kneed in the balls.

  Son of a bitch.

  Feeling arms wrap around him dragging him back to his feet, he cursed before getting out of Cian’s firm hold. Spitting quickly, he wiped his mouth, shaking off the blood.

  “You don’t want to come home because of me,” Rory screamed, jerking out of Finn’s grip. “Fine! But don’t punish them,” he yelled, pointing to his parents.

  His chest pumping, he was quiet a minute. Rory was right. He hadn’t come home in an attempt to avoid his brother, but that didn’t have anything to do with his parents.

  “Pops is having back surgery in three weeks, did you know about that one, eh?” Rory spit out some of his own blood. Looking over at his pops, his father looked away. He wouldn’t even look at Shay, his mother holding onto his pop’s arm. “Did you even know you had another niece on the way?” Cutting his eyes to Cian, his brother looked at Erin and the yard was silent. “And you didn’t even know I was getting married, ye bastard.”

  Watching the boys, Whitney helped Holly keep the toddlers from running into the middle of the game as the older kids watched from the large swing set on the far side of the yard. She was actually enjoying the infamous Cunningham football game, even more than she thought she would. Standing off on the side, Fiona’s whistle hung from her mouth, a joyful grin on her face. Yelling out penalties and referring to them all by their full names whenever they got dirty, the guys yelled back at her.

  “Ma! Come on! That was a bad call!” Shay yelled out before she pointed down the lawn, pushing them back a few yards.

  It was easy to tell that they had all done this a million times before. Nicky had been so excited and watching his eyes light up, hanging off
every word that came out of Shay’s mouth, she couldn’t help but smile. It was sweet. And Shay, well he was simply magnificent to watch. It was clear even with her limited knowledge of the sport that he was in a league all of his own. Cian and Finn seemed to know what they were doing real well, even Rory, fiercely determined to keep up despite his leg, but Shay dominated the yard with a quiet confidence and she couldn’t peel her eyes off him. Watching him bend over in a huddle with Nicky and his papa, his white t-shirt despite the near single digits temperature had no choice but to mold to his body. Outlining the hard form of his back and arms. The sides of his shirt picking up every time he went to catch the ball, smooth skin and side views of abs made their appearance inside the game. And her body felt warm despite wrapping her coat around herself tighter. Watching him with Nicky, she bit back a grin. There was something special between the two of them and she cheered after he handed the ball off to Nicky before picking him up and running him over the goal line. He hadn’t been comfortable when they arrived. Tension and stiffness had rolled off of him, not a single smirk or arrogant joke had been shed. But watching him trash talk and high fiving his brothers now, she could see the tension lifting as he eased back into his family again. And what an incredible family it was.

  Hearing Rory yell, her head whipped up watching him inches from Shay’s face, forcing himself to stand taller. Shay stood tall, clenching the football in his hand before stepping away.

  Gosh, they looked so much alike.

  Watching Rory’s fist hit Shay, she let out a gasp before they tackled each other to the ground. Two grown men rolling in the grass as legs, knuckles and elbows went awry and she reached out grabbing a child. Maeve? Caitlin? Oh, she didn’t know who as she watched blood roll off Shay’s spectacular face before he punched Rory in the gut. Separating them, Cian and Finn struggled to contain them. They looked like fighter dogs ready to rip each other’s heads off. Resisting the urge to stop the blood rolling off the side of Shay’s face, she held her breath while he and Rory screamed back and forth at each other. The yard fell silent, as the kids stopped swaying on the swings, watching quietly. Looking over at Fiona, her heart sank. The poor woman looked like she wanted to cry as Rory shook his head. His shirt rumpled, Rory limped past her towards the deck, cursing to himself as Siobhan chased after him. Looking at Shay, she watched him as Maeve, or maybe Caitlin, grabbed her hair and he spit out some more blood. His face was hard and dirty and unreadable. The jeans that hugged his legs sinfully all day and the ones she had been enjoying too much were now stained, his white shirt ripped. Nothing more was said before Shay walked off, heading around the side of the house. She didn’t know what to do. Should she stay and console Fiona? Help with the kids? Luckily Quinn was upstairs napping, missing the entire catastrophe. Not that she would have understood, but she seemed to zero in on Shay whenever he was in the same room. Another detail she was trying hard not to acknowledge.